Esa Promesa

“Got it.” 

Lasfame said, tucking the coordinates I had given him haphazardly into his pocket before burying his face into my chest.

“Aren’t you going now?” 

“Do I have to leave immediately?”

“Well, no. Please wait until after His Majesty’s birthday.”

Diver’s birthday was in three weeks. That’s when I planned to give him a gift and leave.

Even if Silex came to help me, as long as Lasfame was around, escaping would be impossible. But knowing Diver, he’d figure out the loophole in the wish granted to him by Lasfame, and perhaps that would be enough to work something out.

Honestly, I wanted to ask Lasfame to bring Silex immediately. However, I suppressed the impulse. It wasn’t just an irrational sense of foreboding that showing Silex to Diver wouldn’t end well. I also didn’t want Silex, who detested humans, to endure being among them because of me.

Silex always stayed behind in the cradle, waiting for me to die and be reborn to begin a new life.

Even though I knew the long, cold, dark solitude of the cave wasn’t easy for him, I had no choice but to leave him behind each time.

“And one more thing, if possible, could you deliver a letter to Silex for me?”

I had already sent the supplies I would need for my next life to an inn in a village near the cradle. But they were just supplies. I hadn’t sent a letter, so by the time Lasfame arrived to fetch Silex, I was certain his anxiety would be at its peak. The letter would be crucial to reassure him.

“…Got it.”

I had expected him to either refuse outright or demand something in return, but his agreement came surprisingly easily. It caught me off guard. What was going on with this dragon?

“Was my wish too modest?”

“The nature of a wish varies for each human. Teian, I respect you.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but just a moment ago, you looked rather shocked.”

“It was unexpected.”

The unusually murmuring voice drew my attention, and I looked down at Lasfame. As soon as I did, he leaned his small body entirely against me, making himself comfortable.

Here we go again.

Lasfame’s current form might have the physiology of a dragon, but he had once explained that the further his true body was from Emar, the more his avatar became like a human vessel. This exhaustion was a consequence of that.

I never understood why he insisted on using an avatar when, as a dragon, creating a magical construct would be a more efficient choice. Watching him struggle like this always tugged at my heartstrings.

Feeling sorry for him, I did something I’d never dare attempt when he was in his adult form. I cupped the back of his head, gently pulling him closer, and adjusted him so he could lean more comfortably on me.

When Lasfame had first appeared to me in this form, I had been too flustered to do anything but awkwardly hold him. Now, it was second nature to embrace him this way.

“This body is so inconvenient.” 

He grumbled in a sleepy, disgruntled tone. I patted his back softly, knowing he would snap out of it if a major threat to Diver or Emar arose. For now, though, he seemed content to remain half-asleep, making no effort to move.

I spoke carefully to the now-quiet Lasfame. 

“Why not create a magical construct instead? As a dragon, it wouldn’t be difficult for you.”

“It wouldn’t be.” 

He replied. His tone, coupled with what sounded like a sigh, made me pause. Did I hear that right?

Lasfame tilted his head slightly to look up at me, his face irresistibly cute. I fought the urge to squeeze him tightly, especially after the one time I’d done that, and he’d instantly reverted to his adult form to return the favor, nearly crushing me.

“Then why not make one? It would share your consciousness, and the more blood you infuse, the stronger it would be.” 

“Have you ever considered what the real problem with that might be?”

“Hmm… Well, I suppose if the creator were mentally unstable, it could pose an issue. A magical construct could go berserk, and the stronger it is, the harder it would be to contain. If there’s no one capable of handling it, it’s better not to create one in the first place.”

Especially when it came to a construct linked to Lasfame, the dragon king. Dragons might be the pinnacle of magical beings, but they were still sentient creatures susceptible to emotional or mental strain.

Even without a triggering event, dragons, like humans, could succumb to illness. One such illness, if I recalled correctly, was something I’d read about called Dragon Madness. I didn’t remember the details, but I knew enough about the condition to be alarmed.

Dragon Madness. The name was self-explanatory. A dragon gradually lost its reason, consumed by insanity. When completely overtaken, a maddened dragon became a mindless beast driven by destructive instincts.

The thought of any dragon succumbing to this was terrifying, but the idea of a maddened dragon king, along with a berserk construct linked to him, was outright nightmarish. Such a catastrophe could easily spell the end of this continent.

“What?”

Something suddenly clicked in my mind, dragon kings succumbing to Dragon Madness and their magical constructs going berserk. It was too familiar.

“Why do you ask?” 

“Lord Lasfame, this might be a stretch, but… may I ask something?”

“Go ahead.”

“In the past, wasn’t there an incident where a dragon, no, a dragon king, succumbed to Dragon Madness, causing all their magical constructs to go berserk?”

I stopped myself from saying more, realizing that if it had been a dragon king, no one could have stopped it. The world as we knew it wouldn’t have survived. Still, the nagging sense of déjà vu gnawed at my nerves. The more I spoke, the more my vague suspicion solidified into certainty.

“I don’t remember the details… but I think something like that happened.”

Trying to recall something I’d never thought much about before triggered a splitting headache. I pressed my eyes shut and leaned back heavily against the chair.

I tightened my arms around Lasfame, ensuring I wouldn’t accidentally drop him. If I did, I’d undoubtedly hear an earful later.

“Ugh…”

I felt as though I was on the verge of remembering something important, but the pulsating pain in my head made me give up. Perhaps when Lasfame fell asleep, I could lay him down and think it through while I washed up.

Taking deep breaths to steady myself, I waited for the pain to subside before opening my eyes again.

Then I realized something, Lasfame hadn’t responded. I’d had my eyes shut for quite a while due to the headache, but in that time, he had neither moved nor made a sound. He simply stared up at me, unblinking.

“Lord Lasfame?”

“There was no such thing.”

His voice, though in the body of a child, carried the weight of his adult form. The heaviness of his tone made me pause, but I nodded in response.

“Is that so? I must have been mistaken. If something like that had happened, the continent wouldn’t be in one piece now, would it?”

Whatever it was, it wasn’t my concern. Still, the strangely subdued look in Lasfame’s eyes unsettled me. I didn’t want to upset this kind dragon who had always been kind to me.

Lasfame buried his head back into my chest. His small, warm body was comforting, and my eyelids grew heavy. I was exhausted. The morning’s endless wandering had taken its toll. My hands, which had been gently patting his back, went limp.

I needed to put Lasfame down before falling asleep, but my drowsiness got the better of me. My eyes closed, and sleep engulfed me like a tide pulling me under. Just before I drifted off, a voice brushed against my ear—not the voice of a child but that of Lasfame in his adult form.

“Perhaps the destruction of the continent would have been better for me. At least then, I could have blamed you.”

His voice was so sorrowful that I thought it must have been a dream.

*

The day of departure for Sol Avla, the day I had dreaded, had arrived. I felt a wave of despair the moment I opened my eyes that morning. But as it turned out, there was something even more disheartening waiting for me, and I discovered it only after boarding the carriage.

The journey from the capital to Sol Avla would take a week. Whether on horseback or by express carriage along the main road, that was the standard travel time. I hadn’t even considered the possibility that Diver would travel on horseback.

It wasn’t just a matter of the carriage’s convenience, I simply knew Diver too well. He didn’t dislike horseback riding; he found it tedious.

That’s why, whenever Diver had to travel a great distance, I made it a point to personally inspect the carriage he would use. Of course, this time, because Diver had gone out of his way to prevent me from working, I had to rely on my replacement to secretly check it. As long as Diver didn’t find out, it didn’t matter.

I had ensured that I knew everything: which of the royal carriages Diver would use, what was inside, and what accommodations he had requested. Based on that information, I had assumed that Diver would be traveling alone in his carriage.

After all, when Gehin gave me the seating chart for the other carriages, my name had been listed with Asyan and Diver’s personal physician in a separate carriage.

“Surprised?”

But all of it, every last bit, was false information orchestrated by Diver. Smiling broadly and brazenly admitting to his scheme, Diver made my fists clench in frustration.

“…I must have misread the seating chart.”

Despite sitting in the carriage, adorned appropriately to present himself to the citizens outside, Diver’s infuriatingly handsome face was somehow even more aggravating today.

“You read it correctly, Tei, I just didn’t change it because I wanted to surprise you.”

The moment we passed the city gates, Diver eagerly drew the curtains shut, blocking the window from view. His playful expression only added to my annoyance.