NOVEL NEXT 1
This Journey Was Doomed from the Start
The prince was drowning in misery.
The semester had slipped by in a haze, and he had sat through his exams like an empty shell. As expected, his grades were disastrous. The academy’s professors were stunned by his performance, yet not one of them dared to scold him.
The moment the academy went on break, the prince packed his belongings and retreated to the royal palace, shutting himself away in his chambers. Concerned, the queen, the king, and his siblings took time from their schedules to visit the youngest prince, yet none could offer comfort to a young man who had lost his friend in the blink of an eye.
At first, they left him be. But when days passed and he still refused to emerge, the queen took drastic measures. She ordered the servants to prepare his horse, and after a week of isolation, he was forcibly dragged out under the pretense of “getting some fresh air.”
It was for his own good—before entering the academy, he had always loved horseback riding. With a weary expression, he mounted his horse and rode beyond the castle walls, following his favorite path through the kingdom.
He was just passing through the outskirts of the city, his servant trailing closely behind, when a loud call caught his attention.
“Come take a look! Exotic treasures from distant lands!”
A merchant stood with his back against the city wall, calling out to passersby. His stall was filled with all sorts of trinkets, and next to it stood a chair, likely set there for noblewomen to sit comfortably while browsing. Judging by the items on display, it seemed the stall mostly catered to women.
The merchant, spotting the well-dressed young man on an expensive steed, called out again.
“I also have fine daggers for sale!”
With time to spare and little else to do, the prince decided to take a look. He dismounted, tossing the reins to his servant. The servant, standing close by, quickly tried to dissuade him from approaching the stall, but the prince paid no heed and strode toward the merchant. Alarmed, the servant rushed ahead to issue a warning.
“Mind your manners! You stand before the prince.”
At those words, the merchant, who had already been bowing, stiffened in shock and bent even lower.
“Oh, heavens! My deepest apologies, Your Highness.”
The prince waved off the fuss with a curt, “No need for theatrics,” before turning his attention to the wares on display. Meanwhile, the merchant—who had likely never encountered royalty, let alone nobility—broke out in a nervous sweat. A customer of such high status could not be treated carelessly.
“Please, have a seat first,” the merchant offered, gesturing toward a chair.
With effortless grace, the prince settled into it. Though it was nothing more than a simple wooden chair, it suddenly appeared refined and elegant simply by virtue of him sitting in it.
“I happen to have something just perfect for Your Highness.”
Instead of selecting an item from the stall, the merchant retrieved something from a box hidden beneath it. What he pulled out was an exquisitely crafted jewelry box. The materials were of the highest quality, its surface adorned with intricate, antique carvings, making it look exceptionally valuable on its own. But the true treasure lay within.
The merchant opened the lid. Resting atop a bed of deep purple satin was something smooth and radiant, shimmering like a golden opal.
“…A dragon’s scale.”
It sparkled beautifully, but beyond that, it seemed utterly useless.
The prince regarded it with a disinterested gaze before speaking in a tone of polite regret.
“My apologies, but I have little interest in jewels.”
Then he added, “Do you have anything else?”
At this, the merchant scratched the back of his neck. There was nothing else worth showing. Seeing his hesitation, the prince began to rise from his seat.
That was when the merchant suddenly flashed a knowing smile.
“But, Your Highness, this item carries a special legend.”
A legend? Maintaining his usual indifferent expression, the prince studied the merchant, whose skin had been darkened by years under the sun.
“They say that if one with the blood of dragons rubs this scale, the owner of the scale will appear and grant a wish. Any wish within its power.”
A flicker of interest passed through the prince’s otherwise impassive eyes. A dragon that grants wishes?
Sensing his intrigue, the merchant’s voice grew even more persuasive. There was an old folktale that claimed the royal family carried the blood of dragons. If the legend were true, then the rightful owner of this scale would undoubtedly be royalty.
“And who better to match this legend than Your Highness himself?”
The merchant fell silent, waiting for the prince to deliberate.
Still seated, the prince pondered for a moment before reaching for the dragon’s scale.
But just as he did, the merchant swiftly yanked the jewelry box back.
“…Surely, I need to verify its authenticity before purchasing it?”
“Your Highness, you may only test it after the payment has been made.”
In truth, even the merchant had no idea whether the legend was real.
Markets were always full of such trinkets—branches struck by lightning that supposedly helped one pass exams, coins said to bring fortune. But this was different. The odds of finding someone who could actually test this particular item were exceedingly slim. It wasn’t every day that a common merchant encountered a person of dragon lineage.
The prince’s hesitation lasted only a moment.
With a brief glance, he signaled to his servant, who had been waiting at a distance. Upon hearing the price, the servant looked visibly startled, but he obeyed without question. Without a single attempt at negotiation, a sum equivalent to several years’ wages for an average citizen was handed over.
The prince closed the lid of the jewelry box and carefully lifted it himself.
When his servant stepped forward, offering, “Allow me to carry it,” the prince dismissed him with a glance and walked straight to his horse.
This was not the kind of place where he wished to test a wish-granting relic.
As the prince and his servant mounted their horses, the merchant—still counting the money—quickly bowed and bid them farewell.
“Safe travels, Your Highness.”
As he straightened, the merchant rapidly ran through a mental checklist of what he needed to pack. The sum he had just received was more than enough to live lavishly in any provincial city.
But then, a chilling thought struck him—what if the prince realized he had been conned and returned in fury?
A shiver ran down his spine. Wasting no time, he hastily began packing up his stall.
***
The prince had intended to continue his ride but instead turned back toward the castle, sprinting straight to his chambers.
Clutched tightly in his arms was the ornate jewelry box.
At the door, he dismissed his servant with a curt request to be left alone before shutting it behind him.
The box, adorned with antique carvings, blended seamlessly into the grandeur of his room. Placing it on his bed, the prince slowly lifted the lid once more. Inside, the dragon’s scale gleamed gold under the light.
Taking a deep breath, he ran his elegant fingers over its smooth surface, brushing it lightly.
Then he turned his head sharply, scanning the room for any sign of change.
Nothing.
His magnificent chamber remained utterly still.
The prince muttered a rare curse under his breath.
So it was a scam, after all. He must have lost his senses, his grief making him desperate enough to believe in fairy tales.
Frustration flared in his chest. This time, he grabbed the scale not with careful reverence but with a rough, almost violent grip. His fingers curled tightly around it as he strode toward the window, fully prepared to hurl the worthless thing outside.
That was when it happened.
“Put that down.”
A voice rang out in the stillness of his once-empty room.
It came from behind him.
His grip on the scale slackened as his hand slowly lowered. The voice—it was unmistakable.
A voice he had heard every day at the academy. A voice that, until a month ago, had belonged to his closest friend.
The prince turned, his face frozen in shock.
“…Adrian?”
Standing before him was a man with bright golden hair.
The prince was stunned. The merchant had claimed the scale’s owner would appear—but what stood before him was Adrian Heather, the very friend who had died at the academy.
Yet the prince was not the only one caught off guard.
No one in the castle was more bewildered at that moment than Adrian Heather himself.
***
The dragon had been peacefully pulling weeds in its lair when, without warning, it was yanked back into its true form.
And the very first thing it saw upon arrival?
Some lunatic about to chuck its precious scale out the damn window.
Instinctively, the dragon had stopped him. But as soon as the human turned around, recognition struck like lightning, and the dragon barely managed to mask its own shock.
It was him.
The human from their last game.
Had it not been for the rather inconvenient fact that he had faked his own death right in front of this very prince last month, the Gold Dragon might have even greeted him warmly.
Instead, Adrian Heather—the form the dragon had assumed—quickly composed himself, adopting a regal, measured tone.
“Summoner, I shall grant you one wish.”
The prince, still visibly shaken, stammered, “W-what’s with that appearance? You look exactly like Adrian Heather.”
“It is merely the form I have taken based on the summoner’s subconscious will,” the Gold Dragon replied smoothly, feigning ignorance.
“The appearance is irrelevant to the granting of your wish.”
The man standing in the prince’s lavish chamber was breathtakingly handsome—his refined features and dignified posture seamlessly complementing the grandeur of his surroundings. Yet, upon closer inspection, there was something distinctly different about him.
His golden hair shimmered as though laced with molten gold, and beneath it, his eyes gleamed in a brilliant shade of pure gold—unlike the warm, honeyed brown that Adrian had once possessed.
The Gold Dragon’s gaze flicked downward, settling on the scale still clutched in the prince’s hand.
A memory stirred—so distant, so insignificant, that he had nearly forgotten it.
Some human, long ago, had taken his scale as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
A smirk curled at the dragon’s lips.
Humans and their greed… Tell them they can have one wish, and they’ll come asking for a hundred.
The old tales had never been wrong.