NOVEL NEXT 2
The Gold Dragon swept his gaze across the prince’s chamber.
As before, the room was lavish—exquisitely crafted tables that seemed to bear the soul of their artisans, and a spacious bed so inviting one might drift into sleep the moment they lay down. His attention shifted to the guest table, its surface immaculate, the chairs untouched, as though they had never been used. Not a single speck of dust marred them.
Dressed in the casual attire of his lair, the dragon took a seat in one of the ornate chairs. Despite the simplicity of his clothing, the furniture seemed to suit him perfectly, as if it had been made for him alone.
His gaze landed on the sword rack mounted on the chamber’s wall. Among the display were dazzling ceremonial blades adorned with gemstones, set beside well-worn training swords, their hilts darkened by constant use.
Turning back to the table, the dragon idly inspected the array of teas arranged there. For all his nobility, he took pleasure in handling small tasks himself.
The prince, watching him, slowly lowered the dragon scale he had been about to toss out the window. Holding it carefully, he walked to his bed and placed it inside a treasure box, closing the lid with quiet finality. He still couldn’t believe Adrian Heather—the dragon—was standing in his room.
The thought of a dragon steeping his own tea, a scene straight out of fairy tales, sent a flicker of disbelief through him. Subtly, he lifted a finger toward the servant’s bell. A clear chime filled the air. Moments later, a knock sounded at the door. Without taking his eyes off the dragon, the prince ordered tea to be brought—but instructed that the tray be left outside.
The being before him was undoubtedly the dragon to whom the scale belonged. And yet, standing there, he looked far too much like Adrian—his friend who had died.
Adrian Heather of Basamiel Academy had also relished handling small tasks himself and had been quite adept at them. But that made sense—Adrian had been a commoner.
Sensing the prince’s confusion, the dragon smirked slightly. He was reminded of their first meeting. The Gold Dragon flicked his index finger toward the prince—a gesture identical to the one the prince had used moments ago to summon the servant. But this was no simple household magic.
At that small motion, the prince’s body lurched forward, moving on its own, gliding smoothly across the floor.
“Urk—!”
In an instant, he found himself standing directly in front of Adrian, without ever having willed it. Behind him, the plush cushioning of furniture pressed against his legs.
“Sit. The tea is still a long way off.”
With a casual wave of his hand, the dragon had pulled him to the opposite sofa as easily as breathing. He fully intended to sit and wait patiently for the tea to arrive.
The prince scowled from his seat, fixing the dragon with a glare. The dragon, amused, could almost hear his thoughts.
Still as particular as ever.
The prince was likely displeased that magic had been used on him without permission. Even after months apart, he hadn’t changed.
When the prince remained silent, the dragon spoke first.
“So?”
At the sound of Adrian’s voice coming from the dragon’s lips, the prince lifted his head.
“…What… What do you mean?”
Adrian had spent years with Mikhail, but this was the first time he had ever heard him speak so formally.
The moment the prince met those golden eyes—liquid metal, shifting ever so slightly—he finally grasped the reality of the situation. The being he had summoned was, indeed, a dragon. He was sitting across from a legendary creature, separated only by a table.
“Your wish. What is it? You know the legend, don’t you?”
The Gold Dragon had no intention of going into a long-winded explanation about the myth surrounding his scale, especially when he had been summoned against his will. Instead, he placed a broad, elegant white hand over his chest, his confidence unwavering.
“You summoned me. You need to state your wish.”
A Gold Dragon was bound to grant the wish of the human who called upon him. And once that was done, he would retrieve that damn scale and put it back where it belonged. It had been so long since he had last taken this form that he hadn’t even realized a piece of him was missing.
The prince had only wanted to verify whether the scale he had acquired was genuine. He averted his gaze from the dragon’s brilliant, mesmerizing eyes. No matter how powerful a dragon was, he was not a god. Even if he could grant any wish, bringing back the dead was beyond his reach—something the prince knew better than anyone.
Just then, a soft scraping sound came from the door, followed by a knock—the servant had arrived with the tray.
Not inclined to wait for the prince to move, the dragon rose from the sofa. At that moment, the prince stiffened, his body tensing in alarm.
“Why? W-where… where are you going?”
Mikhail stammered, uncharacteristically flustered. His urgency brought back the memory of that moment months ago—when the prince had desperately clung to Adrian’s hand on the edge of a cliff.
“…Relax. I just need a cup of tea first.”
The dragon strode through the prince’s chamber as if he owned it, moving with the same effortless grace as always. He opened the door without hesitation. As requested, no servants were present—only a neatly arranged tray with steaming tea and an assortment of desserts. Picking up the tray, he walked back to the table. The prince sat waiting, his expression still clouded with confusion. The sight was almost pitiful—a grown man sitting there like a lost puppy.
True to royal standards, the tea and confections were flawless, perfectly suited to the dragon’s refined palate. It had been a long time since he had been served anything like this, so he was willing to grant the prince some leniency.
The prince wished he could stretch this moment—prolong his chance to see Adrian’s face, even if only for a little longer. He knew that if he dared to demand the impossible, the dragon’s temper would turn against him.
As the dragon sipped his tea, his expression, his mannerisms—everything—was identical to Adrian. The real Adrian had once sat in the academy dormitory, drinking tea just like this, day after day.
The prince said nothing as they drank. Even after the last bite of dessert was gone and the tea had nearly run out, he remained silent. The dragon arched a brow, subtly urging him to speak, but the prince continued his act of feigned contemplation.
…It seems I’ll need to give him more time.
Setting his teacup down on the tray, the dragon hesitated briefly before slowly rising from his chair.
“We can’t waste each other’s time, can we? Next time we meet, I hope you’ll have a wish in mind.”
Whenever that may be.
The man with hair like molten gold and gleaming golden eyes smiled as he activated the mana within his body. In an instant, magic flared around him, enveloping his form in a shimmering glow—the spell for teleportation to his lair. He planned to return there and continue his work until the prince came up with a suitable wish.
Golden strands of the dragon’s hair fluttered in the still air of the prince’s chamber, and his luminous golden eyes shone like a full moon in the night. Around him, waves of warm mana pulsed, making the prince’s silver hair stir as well.
It was a stark contrast to the Adrian the prince knew. The Adrian he remembered was a magicless commoner. His eyes had never shone so vividly before.
Just as the Gold Dragon’s form began to dissolve into golden dust, the prince snapped himself out of his daze, shaken by the sight’s beauty.
His firmly set lips parted, and he murmured, “No.”
This was a rare chance—an opportunity to make a wish to one of the most noble beings in existence, a dragon who defied the natural order itself. But what truly disturbed the prince was the fact that Adrian, whom he had thought to be dead, was about to vanish from his sight once again.
Where the Gold Dragon had stood moments ago, nothing remained but scattered golden motes of mana, twinkling like shattered fragments of light. The room, once bathed in golden radiance, fell into silence.
The dragon had completed his teleportation spell, returning safely to his lair as always. Unlike the extravagant splendor of the prince’s chamber, his lair was a rugged space, filled with furniture collected according to his own taste rather than lavish decorations. It was a room shaped by his hands, a reflection of his true self, and returning here always put him at ease.
The moment his feet, which had been hovering slightly above the ground, finally touched down—
***
The prince swiftly grabbed the ornate box he had carefully placed on his bed. Thankfully, the dragon’s scale remained inside, lying undisturbed.
Taking a deep breath, he lifted his hand and gently ran his fingers over the golden scale, its surface gleaming like Adrian’s hair.
Suddenly, a surge of mana that did not belong to him rippled through the air. It was unfamiliar yet unmistakable. He knew exactly where it was coming from.
The dragon cursed inwardly. Being forcibly summoned twice in one day—how infuriating.
When he opened his eyes, he was once again inside the prince’s chamber.
The prince stood before him, holding the ornate box containing his scale. Just as he had expected, until the dragon granted the prince’s wish, he could be summoned back—again and again.
A smirk tugged at the dragon’s lips.
Ah, right. This bastard was always like this.
He had underestimated the prince’s tenacity. Severely.