6. Three People, Three Different Dreams (同床三夢)
Su-ryeon trudged back to her quarters. She had been summoned to the Advisor’s office and spent a long time bickering with So-han. While the process wasn’t useless, it was utterly draining. Do I really have to stress this much over mere seating arrangements for a state funeral? Su-ryeon thought blankly, her voice trailing off with exhaustion.
“I’m home, Rok.”
Opening the sliding door, she instinctively looked for Rok. Rok was a lizard—or at least, she still desperately wanted to believe so—but he often acted as if he understood her words. Thus, she made a habit of offering a light greeting whenever she left or returned. To someone like her, who had endured a lonely life, having a being that welcomed her was a source of true happiness.
“You’re back?”
The moment Su-ryeon stepped into her bedroom, her body froze. A human voice? She clenched her fists. If necessary, she was prepared to throw a punch.
Earlier that morning, she had been terrified to see Rok fluttering about with a bloated body. He had been flapping his wings vigorously while munching on an apple she had bought the night before. Her mind had gone blank. He was a creature that could only be defined as a dragon. For a human voice to be coming from a room where such a creature resided meant someone was after him. Dragons were legendary; selling one on the black market would fetch an astronomical sum.
Su-ryeon grabbed a long stick—where it came from, she didn’t know, but it didn’t matter.
“Hyaaaaaa!”
Closing her eyes tight, she swung the stick toward the source of the voice. She heard the whistle of air, but no blunt impact. She peeked one eye open.
A young boy with red hair and golden eyes stood there, looking bewildered. He appeared to be seven or eight years old. Perhaps he had rummaged through her wardrobe, for he was clumsily wearing her oversized ceremonial robes.
“Who… who are you?”
“How can you not recognize me?”
“Wait, why are you speaking so informally?”
The sight of a child speaking down to her prickled her nerves. The boy smiled brightly and pointed to his eyes and hair.
“Do you really not know?”
She watched him with suspicious eyes. Who on earth could you be… Suddenly, it clicked. The reddish hair matched Rok’s scales, and the golden eyes were identical to Rok’s pupils. Her legs began to tremble.
“Could it be… Rok?”
“Yup!”
The innocent-looking boy immediately lunged forward and hugged her tight. Su-ryeon looked down at Rok, who only reached her waist, and thought:
I’m doomed…
No animal is capable of human transformation—except for the legendary dragon. By taking human form, Rok had personally confirmed his identity. She pressed her hand to her forehead, a headache blooming.
“Oh, my head…”
“Does it hurt?”
The boy looked ready to burst into tears and led her toward the bed. Entranced by his shimmering eyes, she allowed herself to be pulled. Once she was seated, Rok stood before her and gently stroked her hair. Su-ryeon’s face flushed with embarrassment.
“What are you doing?”
“You stroked me like this when I was suffering from the divine fever.”
Rok grinned and took her hand, pressing her palm against his cheek. It was warm. In that instant, the bewilderment she felt vanished. She realized that Rok’s recent erratic behavior and heat were due to this “divine fever” of transformation.
“You weren’t feeling well because of the fever?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Are you okay now?”
“Yup.”
She had been increasingly worried about his sensitivity lately. Knowing the cause and that he was recovered, she let out a sigh of relief. As she offered a faint smile, Rok’s golden eyes flickered with a hint of red. Noticing this, Su-ryeon grabbed his cheeks.
“Rok, your eyes are getting cloudy—”
“You’re going to make a contract with me, right, Cheong Su-ryeon?”
“What?”
The abrupt mention of a contract left her stunned, as if she’d been struck by a hammer. Rok’s gaze wasn’t that of a child; it was filled with a deep craving. What did he want? Power? The authority of a dragon?
Transcendent beings were pure and noble, but they lacked human concepts of guilt or remorse. That’s what the records said. Making a promise carelessly could incur a dragon’s wrath. She had to avoid an answer for now.
“It’s the day before the state funeral, so I need to sleep early. Rok, shall we just sleep for now?”
“Okay, sure.”
She lifted him up and tucked him into bed. A soft blush colored Rok’s face at her gentle touch. She dimmed the lamp. A humanized dragon cannot use its power without a contract, so nothing dangerous should happen. She patted him, hoping he’d fall asleep quickly.
“Cheong Su-ryeon…”
“Yes?”
“Don’t go anywhere anymore…”
“Okay.”
Even as his consciousness drifted, Rok gripped her finger tightly. In contrast to the fast-asleep boy, Su-ryeon tossed and turned. Even if he looked like a child, sharing a blanket with another “person” for the first time made her restless.
The next morning, she woke to Rok’s voice. Her sleep quality had been poor due to her late-night worrying.
“Cheong Su-ryeon, wake up!”
“Ugh… mm…”
She responded groggily, then felt a strange sense of dissonance. Rok was standing by the bed looking down at her, smiling playfully.
“Rok… did you get taller since yesterday?”
She wiped her eyes and stared. Yesterday, he was shorter than her seated height. Now, he was level with her.
“Did I?” Rok replied innocently.
This is strange. Without a contract, he shouldn’t be growing this fast. Even while eating breakfast, Su-ryeon tilted her head in confusion.
“Rok, I’m heading out.”
“I’m coming too.”
Rok grabbed her hand with crystal-clear eyes. Su-ryeon looked troubled. If I take him with me, rumors will start flying… She decided to use a “white lie.”
“I’ll be back soon. Rok, I’ll be back by the time you count to one hundred.”
“Don’t lie to me!”
“What?”
Rok had no intention of letting go, and his grip was surprisingly strong. Despite Su-ryeon’s own physical training as a deputy advisor, this wasn’t the strength of a normal child.
“Then make a contract with me.”
Rok kept bringing up the contract, as if sensing her reluctance. She avoided his eyes again, her mind racing for an excuse.
“If you won’t contract with me now, then take me with you.”
“Where? To the Seonnong Palace?”
“Anywhere.”
What is wrong with him? Su-ryeon gaped. Unlike her, Rok looked relaxed and almost sly—less like a dragon and more like a clever serpent. Realizing she would be late if she lingered, she opened her arms. Rok beamed and dove into her embrace, burying his face in her hair, inhaling the faint scent of water lilies.
“You must absolutely not turn back into a dragon, okay?”
“Okay!”
He sure is good at answering, she thought skeptically.
At the palace, Su-ryeon reviewed the funeral proceedings. She kept the traditional flow of previous kings but meticulously adjusted the seating and procession for the noble families. When she entered the Advisor’s office, So-han looked up.
“I heard you brought a mysterious child with you.”
“How do you already know that?”
“The eyes and ears of this palace aren’t just limited to the servants,” So-han replied dryly.
“Fine, you’re so clever.”
So-han rubbed his temples. “What are you going to do if they find out he’s a dragon?”
“No one knows. As long as he doesn’t transform. Besides, I told them I’m just babysitting a neighbor’s kid. Wait… how did you know he was a dragon?”
He merely shrugged.
“Actually, being caught as a dragon is the secondary problem. The contract is the real issue. I’ll say it again: you must never form a contract.”
“If you become a Dragon Master (Yong-ju), there’s no point in your ‘demotion’ to the archives. You said you didn’t want to be the subject of palace gossip anymore.”
His judgment was terrifyingly fast. Su-ryeon nodded. Beneath his blunt words was a tiny bit of concern for her goals. If she became a Dragon Master, she wouldn’t just be the talk of the palace; she’d be the talk of the entire kingdom.
“Be careful,” So-han added, hesitating. “Both of you.”
He recalled the dragon’s eyes. They didn’t look like the eyes of a wild animal; they looked like the eyes of a possessive predator. He didn’t know why the dragon was so obsessed with her, but caution was necessary.
Su-ryeon nodded firmly. “So, the funeral?”
“First, the summoning of the soul, then silence, then the eulogy by Head Ipchwi of the Chu family. Then the offering of flowers, and finally the funeral procession.”
So-han spread out the seating chart. They had agonized over where to place the families and their vassals.
“The heads of the four families will lead the front row. For the vassals, you, Cheong Su-ryeon, will draw lots on the day of the funeral to assign their positions.”
“Why me?”
“Is there anyone else more disconnected from the interests of the families than a ‘Powerless One’ (Museong-ja)?”
It was a fair point, even if it meant more work. This way, the Chu family would be satisfied, and the others wouldn’t have grounds to complain—though the Ha family might still grumble.
“And the final procession?”
“Led by His Majesty as the chief mourner, with the rest following the seating chart.”
Su-ryeon nodded. At that moment, she believed it was a well-organized plan. She believed that once the funeral passed, she would finally have a quiet life in the archives.
She had no idea that on the day of the funeral, she would end up making the very contract she so desperately wanted to avoid.
