Chapter 67
Actually, “twenty years old” was an exaggeration—the exact age difference between His Majesty and Baeksan was seventeen years. And His Majesty considered that a reasonable age gap for dragons.
“Mother, have people ever called our kind thieves?”
“We’ve often been said to lack conscience, but never thieves.”
“…….”
That sounds like the same thing to me, Your Majesty.
However, the three young people present remained silent, careful not to forget that the person before them was the emperor of this country.
“Indeed, the number of dragons has decreased. I think people have forgotten how we find partners.”
“What methods did you use before?”
“Sometimes, like with you, Gyuhun, we found partners early. But mostly, we sought spouses after turning thirty.”
Dragons are naturally long-lived.
So long-lived, in fact, that their lifespan is nearly double that of other races.
Moreover, because there were so few of them, dragons were likely related whether near or distant, so they usually had to marry outside their species.
“Our standard was always twofold.”
First, healthy.
Second, young.
“It was a standard set to ensure that we could be together with our spouse for as long as possible.”
For this reason, dragons usually sought partners after turning twenty. That way, they could marry someone at least ten years younger.
Then, as now, both parties had to be adults to marry.
Historically, dragons who married other species usually married someone about fifteen years younger. Seventeen years was average, and surpassing twenty was not uncommon.
“Yet it was always the dragons who ended up alone.”
No matter how healthy or young a spouse they took, the spouse never lived longer than the dragon.
Many dragons fell ill and died after their partners passed first.
“So you must always live with that in mind.”
“I don’t want to think about the end already,” the Crown Prince replied, his expression uneasy.
“Since you’re a dragon, you’ll find a mate early, but the rest will follow our way of marriage. You should know this beforehand.”
“Our way of marriage?”
“Don’t you understand?”
The Emperor pointed to a scroll where the ages of the two leading candidates were written.
“Even if you found your mate here, you’d have to wait at least four to six years—or even ten—before you could marry. How old would you be then?”
“……!”
Your Majesty froze at the thought of marrying in the late twenties at the earliest, or over thirty at the latest. But then he realized his situation was comparatively better.
“Better than waiting thirteen years,” he muttered.
Better than Hwirok, who waited eleven years to marry me and still had two more years to wait.
Hearing this, my fiancé twisted his lips, unable to hide his irritation.
Trying to lighten the mood, the Crown Prince shifted the topic.
“How did Mother meet Father?”
“Why dredge up old matters?”
“I’m just curious. You’ve never told us before.”
I wanted to hear it too.
When I looked up, my eyes sparkling, the Emperor clearly looked troubled.
“I’ve also wondered why Mother chose Father,” added Hwirok, the eldest son, and the Emperor let out a small laugh as if conceding.
“It wasn’t anything special. By the time I reached marriageable age, the former royal family was in conflict, and there was no chance to find a spouse. When I finally had the time, all suitable men were either dead or already married.”
“So by process of elimination, only Father remained?”
“That’s horrific,” Hwirok said. Growing up under Baeksan, he seemed to have accumulated a lot of emotions over the years.
The Emperor laughed even more.
“I had always received proposals, but I refused at first because I was too young.”
“You refused?”
“Of course, he never really listened. Instead, he offered flowers, saying he could wait as long as needed, just don’t forget him.”
I widened my eyes.
It reminded me of when Hwirok first gave me flowers long ago.
My fiancé seemed to feel the same, a subtle shock lingering on his face—he really didn’t want to admit how much he resembled Baeksan.
“And what did you say, Mother?”
The Crown Prince asked, clearly intrigued, and the Emperor nodded before answering.
“I said I’d think about it when I became an adult. And then I completely forgot.”
War broke out.
The fragile peace collapsed, and the promise made with a boy and a pinky was soon forgotten. Amidst the chaos, many things were lost.
When peace was finally restored from the ashes,
“He offered flowers again.”
Now fully grown, he courted her once more.
“It was right to refuse. I was politically unstable and couldn’t have someone beside me.”
Yet, for some reason, the Emperor accepted the flowers.
“I thought I had lost everything from the past.”
The promise to consider it when adult. The trivial promise made with a pinky, remembered even amid the war. Precious memories that seemed to have turned to ash.
“I thought all good memories were forgotten…”
The memory remained. In the single flower and on their pinky.
So the Emperor reportedly cried in front of him, until the flustered Baeksan apologized profusely despite having done nothing wrong.
It was said to be the start of a love as tender as a flower.
Recharged by such a touching love story, I went back to searching for the villain, wandering through the banquet hall.
The smell was insane.
It wasn’t just hard to endure—it was like death itself.
Several times, the acrid stench made the hairs on my body stand on end, almost making me leap away.
People began worrying, seeing me barely leaving Hwirok’s side.
“Are you alright?”
Hongram paced anxiously nearby, and I felt somewhat reassured.
The slightly sweet, nutty scent helped push back the foul stench.
When I poked my head out from Hwirok’s embrace, Hongram let out a soft sound.
“Hyeon-nim, even in beast form, your fur is sleek and magnificent.”
He meant it as a compliment, though it sounded formal, probably not wanting to offend.
With some help from Hwirok and Hongram, I scouted the high officials.
I found the foul-smelling ones outnumbered the tolerable ones roughly seven to three.
Among the seven, most were complicated scents.
I’d smelled this before in the Security Bureau—usually those aware of their wrongdoings, shivering with guilt but thinking it necessary to commit crimes.
Politics is complicated, indeed.
There were also a few openly evil people—maybe one or two.
And at the top of them was… surprisingly, an elder of the Hong family.
“Squeak, squeak.”
The smell alone made my fur puff up like dandelion seeds. Hwirok quickly pulled me away.
“Hyeon, are you okay?”
I couldn’t even make a sound, afraid that if I relaxed for even a moment, my fiancé might act on that elder immediately.
Seeing me trembling silently, Hwirok also fell silent.
I cautiously lifted my head.
“Hic.”
Seeing the cold expression of my fiancé, I forgot my anger.
His glacial gaze was fixed on the Hong elder. I couldn’t stop hiccuping, as if he were about to incinerate the elder right there.
“You have a strange magical device around your neck,” Hwirok said in a cold voice, having examined the Hong elder thoroughly.
“It seems sealed. Annoying.”
Uh, uh… scary. Even my fiancé’s voice was sending sharp icicles through the air!
Meanwhile, exchanging a glance with the Crown Prince, Hwirok used magic.
Very discreetly, with an invisible wind blade, he cut the elder’s necklace. Hot, fiery energy spread briefly before dissipating.
“That was the answer.”
Following Hwirok’s gaze, I looked at the Crown Prince. His green eyes were fixed sharply on the Hong elder.
Tightly closed jaw, cold stare. The magical mark left on the test scroll matched perfectly.
Even His Majesty looked tense—it was more serious than I thought.
“It’s a magical contract,” Hwirok revealed.
A magical contract is an advanced spell even harder than gold magic. A sorcerer converts the life force of the contracted subject into magical power.
“We should leave.”
The Hong elder, true to his villainous nature, feigned innocence but surveyed the area sharply. He seemed to notice his necklace had been unnaturally cut.
Hwirok carried me to a secluded area and raised a magical barrier.
“The Hong elder isn’t likely a high-level sorcerer. He probably had a contracted sorcerer use his life force to steal the test scroll.”
“Impossible!”
“The Crown Prince secretly kept the magical marks from the scroll, so we can confirm by comparison.”
The evidence was secretly stored, even from the Emperor, to prevent leaks.
So it was only a matter of time before the Hong elder was caught.
A magical contract leaves a mark on the body like a tattoo.
Things were going unexpectedly well. I was just starting to relax when…
Rustle.
A court lady appeared nearby. Thanks to Hwirok’s barrier, she hadn’t realized anyone was near. Her eyes widened as she discovered us.
She was stunning.
Red hair, green eyes, more vibrant than any spring flower.
I twitched my nose to sense her aura, when suddenly Hwirok cast a binding spell.
“Oh my.”
Yet she easily broke free from Hwirok’s magic!
Then I finally smelled it.
A complex, harsh, sorrowful scent, like something rising from ashes.
I was sure.
A villain.
“Who are you?”
“Hmm…”
Hwirok lifted the barrier and used a stronger binding spell. The woman smiled faintly.
“Even I don’t know anymore.”
And, as if by magic, she vanished.
Stupidly, I realized that the magical mark she left was identical to the one on the Hong elder.
In other words, the person who made a magical contract with the Hong elder and infiltrated the palace to steal the test scroll… had just escaped right before our eyes!
