The Trainer and the Dragon
Letting someone touch your head—it was the ultimate sign of trust. For any living being, the head was a vital, vulnerable part. To offer it willingly meant putting your life in someone else’s hands.
And if that being was a dragon?
The danger multiplied tenfold. Because dragons… could breathe fire.
I couldn’t move.
Not because I didn’t want to, but because I knew—one wrong step, one misinterpreted gesture, and I’d be reduced to ashes before I could even scream.
The Agryx dragon let out a low, rumbling growl that sounded disturbingly like a cat purring. Its molten-gold eyes turned to me.
I flinched under its gaze.
“…What do you want?” I asked warily.
The dragon’s eyes narrowed, as if displeased, and it gave the ground a few impatient thumps with its tail. Then, without warning, it moved its head closer on its own.
My hand, still frozen mid-air, now felt the warmth and roughness of its scales. They weren’t smooth like I’d expected. They were hard, ridged—like the inside of a seashell—gleaming faintly red from the grooves that caught the sunlight.
It wasn’t exactly elegant.
But the message was clear.
The dragon… wanted to be patted.
I didn’t know what it saw in me, but this was a chance no trainer in their right mind would pass up. Agryx dragons were legendarily temperamental. Getting close, let alone touching one? A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
And as I gently stroked between its brow ridges, the dragon let out a soft, pleased rumble, half-closing its eyes in bliss.
I raised a hand toward the other trainers, signaling them to stay back.
If they rushed in now, thinking the beast had calmed, it could snap again. Caution came first.
“It appears,” came a calm voice behind us, “that a trainer has been chosen to take charge of Kazen.”
The words echoed through the silent training ground.
The dragon blinked slowly, opening its eyes. It raised its head and looked toward the voice—the Duke’s aide, the peacock.
“Ah…”
I reluctantly stepped back. The sensation of touching those scales was unexpectedly addictive.
But then—
Thud.
The dragon’s tail slammed down behind me, blocking my path.
“…Huh?”
Was it… stopping me from leaving?
It didn’t even look at me—just casually turned its body to bar my way, pretending not to notice.
I looked past the dragon to where Duke Albarant stood, now placing a leash on the dragon.
His cold gaze turned to the curator.
“I heard this was the Empire’s finest training center. Perhaps I was mistaken.”
His voice was composed, but each word cut like a knife.
The curator flinched.
“Several unqualified trainers. How disappointing.”
“Y-Your Grace, Duke Albarant…”
“What trainer approaches a dragon without first gauging its temperament?”
The Duke’s words were icy and deliberate.
The curator floundered. He looked pathetic now—but frankly, it served him right. Thompson’s earlier blunder had been a rookie mistake, yet the curator had been shielding him for months, taking bribes and turning a blind eye.
“I… that…”
“We’ll continue this discussion later.”
The Duke’s tone left no room for protest.
The curator paled instantly.
And then, the Duke’s gaze shifted—straight to me.
All the trainers, who had earlier scoffed and whispered behind my back, now turned their eyes toward me.
“What is your name?”
“…Lithia, Your Grace.”
I bowed, following proper etiquette. Any licensed dragon trainer needed to know how to conduct themselves before nobility. It was part of the job.
“Trainer Lithia. An impressive performance.”
“No, sir. I simply acted according to my principles. As a trainer, I prioritize the safety of human lives.”
“There may be others who know that principle, but only one person here acted upon it.”
His cold voice had grown warm. Just slightly.
“…Would you be willing to take on Kazen’s training?”
My heart sank.
…I can’t tell him I was just here to watch, not participate!
All eyes were on me now. Even Kazen was looking at me with unsettling fondness.
“Others haven’t had a chance yet,” I said quickly.
“…Hmm?”
“There are trainers here more experienced than I am. I believe they deserve the opportunity as well.”
A nobody like me, catching the Duke’s attention because of a fluke? That’d be gossip fuel for months. And I really didn’t want that kind of attention.
“I never planned to become the Duke’s personal trainer,” I thought bitterly. “If that idiot Thompson hadn’t messed up, I’d still be sitting in the corner.”
“Hm. The trainer makes a fair point,” the Duke replied with a nod.
“Then let’s proceed once Kazen has calmed. I expect the next trainer to prove they deserve to stand in the Ashar Training Grounds.”
With those final, icy words, he gave me a long glance and began to lead Kazen away.
The dragon, of course, didn’t move.
The warden slumped down with a loud sigh and barked orders.
“Move the injured! Clean up the area!”
“Yes, sir!”
“And Lithia!”
“Yes?!”
I turned to him, and he waved a hand, too exhausted to yell.
“…Well done.”
“…That’s it?”
“I’ll pay you extra. Hazard bonus.”
Under normal circumstances, I’d have snapped at him.
But he looked like a man on the edge. And I had bigger things to worry about.
‘It’s not like I’m the official trainer yet,’ I told myself.
The Duke’s domain was in the far east—miles from the capital. If I got stuck there, visiting the orphanage would become nearly impossible.
Please… someone else volunteer. Anyone. Knock the Duke out. Knock the dragon out. Take my place.
“I’m screwed.”
I sighed, burying my head in my hands as chaos unfolded in front of me.
Maybe I’d been hoping for a storybook moment. Maybe I’d underestimated the intelligence of an Agryx dragon.
Either way, I regretted everything.
While I was on a short break, Kazen had gone wild again. Sparks flying from his nostrils, tail lashing—full-blown tantrum mode.
“Ugh!”
One of the trainers went flying, his shirt ripped apart, landing in a groaning heap as he dragged himself away on his butt.
Kazen let out a furious snort, slamming his tail against the ground like a toddler in a rage.
“Kurrrrrrr!”
As the dragon reared its head, glowing with heat, the director scrambled backward.
“Isn’t there anyone else who’ll try?” the Duke asked dryly.
No one answered.
Everyone took a hesitant step back.
Even minor burns were common when dealing with fire-type dragons—but with Kazen? One wrong move and you were a six-month medical case… if you survived at all.
And now?
Now every single person was staring at me.
“Trainer Lithia.”
“Y-Yes, Your Grace?”
“Can you take charge of Kazen’s training?”
…I was going insane.
Why here? Why now?
I wanted to cry.
‘Don’t get cocky just because the scene feels like a novel or a manhwa!’ I shouted internally. ‘There’s nothing special about me!’
And then… there was the peacock.
Everyone else might want this kind of glory, but I certainly did not.
“Your Grace,” I said, “May I speak with you privately?”
The Duke’s brow creased. “Hmm?”
“I believe… a conversation is necessary before I give my answer.”
He didn’t like it, but he nodded.
“Very well. A trainer’s insight is crucial before training begins.”
I exhaled in relief.
“Please follow me,” I said.
“Put Kazen in the pen and return,” he replied, handing me the reins.
The second I touched them, Kazen leaned his massive head against me, purring and refusing to move.
“…Come on.”
“I said let’s go first—!”
The dragon grumbled, legs locking stubbornly, tail swaying slowly. It wouldn’t budge unless I patted it.
So I did. Gently scratching the bridge of his nose.
The dragon let out a pleased huff and began to walk, tail swaying contentedly behind him.
With each of his massive steps, the ground shook slightly. I had to use one hand to shield my face from the breeze stirred by his movement.
“…And that idiot Thompson.”
Since training camp, he’d done nothing but drag me down. And this time? He could’ve died and taken us with him.
I should’ve let him crash and burn.
“Lithia, you idiot…”
And yet… I was happy.
Happy to be handling an Agryx dragon.
I knew it was trouble, and I was still smiling.
“Huh?”
Kazen tilted his head at me, confused by my reaction.
The Duke and his peacock aide… Kazen…
They all acted like they knew just how powerful they were.
And I?
I was stuck in their orbit, trying not to fall.
