Chapter 26
“It would’ve been better if you’d just asked for my signature without saying anything.”
Kur looked at him with a hint of pity. Before Medo could understand what he meant, Baberi stifled a laugh.
“Come to think of it, just letting you two marry feels wrong somehow.”
The corners of her lips curled upward, like a child who had just found a new toy to play with.
“Sharon isn’t just any retainer. She’s like family to me.”
It wasn’t only to tease Medo that she said this—Sharon often reminded her of Yu Chaerin.
But as a king, Baberi disliked the idea of calling Sharon “sister.”
“I think of Sharon as a daughter.”
“You’re too young to be saying that.”
Kur snorted, and Baberi hissed sharply at him not to interrupt.
“In any case, I can’t just let go of such a precious, daughter-like person so easily. You understand?”
“Then… what should I do?” Medo asked nervously.
“You’ll have to show me you can make her happy for the rest of her life. For example…”
Baberi crossed her arms, leaning back in thought. How could she make this amusing without Sharon scolding her for being too harsh?
“…you’ll have to prove that you’re a man who can make Sharon laugh forever.”
“Then I shall tell you a funny story.”
So confident. Baberi raised an eyebrow, curious what kind of nonsense would come out of his mouth.
“What do you call a sword when it turns serious?”
“I don’t know. What?”
“Black.” (In Korean, “serious” and “black” sound similar: geomjeong.)
Baberi’s lips parted slightly, but Medo, unaware of her changing expression, continued eagerly.
“What kind of door does a master sashimi chef go through?”
He wiggled his mouth, clearly pleased with himself.
“A revolving door!” (hoe means both “sashimi” and “to rotate.”)
Kur, who had stopped eating, stared at Medo in silent disbelief. Baberi blinked slowly and let out a long sigh.
“I suddenly feel like firing him as Captain of the Knights. Thoughts?”
“I’m in favor,” Kur said flatly.
Medo, still giggling at his own joke, panicked.
“I have one more! You’ll definitely like this one!”
“…Fine. Go ahead.”
“Do you know why Your Majesty is the highest of all?”
Because I’m the strongest, Baberi thought automatically, but judging by the setup, that wasn’t the punchline.
“Because everyone higher than Your Majesty has been de-throned!” (de-throned sounds like “above the throne” in Korean wordplay.)
“…”
“See? Above the throne—de-throned!”
He had saved that one for an important occasion, but Baberi didn’t even smile. Medo scratched his head awkwardly.
Baberi began to worry about her daughter-like subordinate’s taste in men.
“I’ve learned one thing—you’re tragically unfunny.”
Medo’s shoulders slumped at the harsh verdict.
“You’ve soured my mood. Bring me something I’ll actually enjoy.”
At her order, Medo soon returned—with boiled beans. Baberi’s face darkened.
“Are you joking with me? You think the king’s a clown?”
“N-no, Your Majesty!”
Medo frantically shook his head and hands.
“I hate beans!”
Her shout echoed. For an instant, Medo saw his future—banished again, just like last time over potatoes.
“Your Majesty…!”
Baberi flicked a bean off the table with her fingers.
Medo didn’t dodge; he only clenched his eyes shut. Instinct told him avoiding it would make things worse.
The bean struck his forehead.
“That’s for mocking your king.”
She flicked more beans at him. Luckily, they were soft and didn’t hurt much.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty! But Sharon said this was your favorite snack—oof!”
He peeked, only to see another bean flying toward him and squeezed his eyes shut again.
“If you’re going to bring me food, bring tteokbokki! And add boiled eggs!”
At her roar, Medo bolted out of the room.
“What’s tteokbokki?”
Kur, who had finished his pie, asked. Of course, in this world, there was no such thing.
“You’re supposed to be an ancient dragon and you don’t even know that?”
Baberi clicked her tongue arrogantly. Kur scowled at the act.
“I’m not an ancient dragon. I haven’t lived that long.”
“How long then?”
“…”
“See? You always clam up when it’s inconvenient.”
Baberi taunted him, and his brow twitched. But he still didn’t reveal his age.
After some time, Medo returned—with Sharon, carrying a basket of boiled eggs.
“We couldn’t find this ‘tteokbokki’ you mentioned, Your Majesty.”
“You couldn’t find even that?”
Baberi scolded him, and his shoulders drooped. Sharon gently placed a hand on his back.
“Go on. If you peel one for Her Majesty, she’ll forgive you right away.”
Encouraged, Medo peeled an egg and handed it over. Sharon watched him fondly, pitying his nervousness.
“Your husband isn’t funny,” Baberi remarked while eating.
Sharon tilted her head, puzzled.
“Do you mean the ‘black’ joke? I thought it was so clever!”
She admitted she’d burst out laughing the first time she heard it.
Ah, so that’s why they’re getting married, Baberi thought. And at last, she granted her permission.
* * *
“Since this is the first marriage I’ve personally approved, make it grand,” Baberi commanded.
Following her orders, Sharon and Medo threw themselves into wedding preparations. Sharon was so busy she didn’t even have time to bake her usual pies.
This was a problem for Kur.
He was suffering from headaches caused by mana depletion—the aftereffect of transforming into a dragon. The strain had been worse than he expected.
And he hadn’t told Baberi.
If I tell her, she’ll just scold me again…
He already knew how that would go. Still, Sharon’s pies had always lifted his spirits a bit—but now, even that comfort was gone.
“We need a name and a flag for the country,” Baberi said, chewing on jerky. “Come up with something good, my advisor.”
“Just pick whatever,” Kur muttered sharply, his tone harsher than usual. Baberi noticed.
“Why are you so irritable lately? Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for Medo…”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“Then is it Sharon? Are you in love with Sharon?”
“Is romance really all your brain can process?”
“Then why are you like this?” she pressed, frowning. His towering figure kept blocking her view—and his scowl was contagious.
“Don’t pry. It’s something a blunt, unrefined person like you wouldn’t understand…”
Before he could finish, his stomach growled loudly.
Baberi blinked, then snorted. “So you were just hungry?”
Kur clenched his jaw in humiliation. It wasn’t hunger—it was lack of mana—but explaining would sound like an excuse.
“Hey.”
Baberi tore her jerky in half and tossed him the smaller piece. Kur stared between the jerky and her face.
“When a king gives you food, you’re supposed to say thank you.”
“…I am deeply honored, Your Majesty.”
She thought he looked ready to eat her instead. Maybe she should’ve given him the bigger piece.
“Anyway, we need a name that’ll make the Bald One tremble just hearing it.”
It had to be intimidating. But all Baberi could think of were ridiculous ideas like Death-to-the-Bald-Kingdom.
“What if it includes Your Majesty’s name? You’re infuriating enough—just hearing it would make Glok furious.”
A dangerous suggestion—but it made sense.
“Baberi… Babelon… Babera… Baberania… Oh.”
Satisfied, she clapped her hands.
“The country shall be called Baberania! The flag will be yellow, since I’m blonde.”
But a flag needed more than color. It needed a symbol—something powerful, majestic.
“What could show the greatness of Baberania…?”
She glanced at Kur chewing jerky and smiled.
“Ah! A dragon. We’ll put a dragon on the flag!”
Among all the armies that had gathered for the crusades, none had used a dragon symbol. It would make Baberania’s banner truly unique.
“Wait. If I’m deciding the name and the flag, then what are you doing?”
Forgetting the name idea was his, she glared at Kur.
“Other than scowling because you’re hungry, do you do anything useful?”
Kur was too tired to argue. He sighed quietly.
Baberi decided to give him a new assignment.
* * *
On his way to relieve the royal guard, Medo ran into Sharon, who was also heading to see Baberi.
“I used to bake something for Her Majesty every day, but lately I’ve been too busy,” she said, holding a small pie she’d somehow found time to make.
“She adores you. She’ll forgive you easily—though she wouldn’t if it were me.”
Sharon patted his back encouragingly.
“Lately, I’ve been jealous of your cooking skills.”
“You don’t need to be. Her Majesty doesn’t only like good cooks. Look at Sir Kur.”
He’s a dragon, Medo almost said, but stopped himself.
“I still don’t get it,” he said instead. “How did the Queen and a dragon end up on the same side?”
“There must be a complicated story, but I don’t really know the details,” Sharon replied with a shrug, then knocked on the office door.
“Come in,” Baberi’s voice called.
They entered—and froze.
Kur was wiping a shelf with a rag.
“What… are you doing?” Medo blurted.
“He had nothing better to do, so I put him to work,” Baberi answered casually.
Medo gaped. He knew she didn’t think much of the dragon—but to make him do chores?
He glanced nervously at Kur, half-expecting him to explode.
But Baberi, oblivious to the tension, kept scolding.
“If you’re going to clean, do it properly. Don’t half-ass it.”
“Stop nitpicking, Your Majesty. I’m doing it as you ordered.”
Kur clenched his teeth, glaring at her. Baberi pointed to the windowsill.
“Come here. You see that dust?”
“There’s no dust.”
Kur strode forward irritably, stopping right behind her—so close his chest brushed her back.
“Where exactly?”
His scent drifted toward her unexpectedly, and Baberi froze, holding her breath.
