Valkar's anger was written all over his face—thick, burning, unmistakable. It pulsed in the shadows beneath his eyes, blazed in the heat from his nostrils, and crackled faintly in the air like distant thunder.
Yet even with the icy fingers of fear gnawing at him from within, Kael stood his ground, resolute and unwavering in uncertainty.
What? Was he supposed to just roll over? Nod his head and say, "Oh, alright. If you say I'm a female, then I must be one"?
Absolutely not.
Anything but that.
Not while he still had breath. Not while his pride—tattered though it may be—still pulsed stubbornly in his chest.
Kael stood his ground, spine rigid, jaw clenched. That is... until he looked up and truly saw Valkar.
The deep, molten eyes glimmered with an unsettling intensity, swirling like dark, molten chocolate. Tendrils of smoke wisped and twisted from his flaring nostrils, filling the air with a sharp, acrid scent. The subtle, graceful flick of his massive tail moved like a coiled spring, a silent harbinger of the tension that thrummed in his powerful frame, poised on the brink of an explosive strike.
Kael: "..."
Screw pride.
If he died here, what good would pride do him? Would it shield him from Valkar's wrath? Would it stop dragon fire from charring his bones to ash?
Not even bones would remain. What resurrection are we talking about?
As regret began to gnaw at the edges of Kael's resolve—chilling sweat trickling down his temples, his mouth parched with the bitter taste of unsaid surrender—he was this close to blurting, "I'm a female, don't kill me!"
Then—
Footsteps.
Someone stepped into the... clinic? House? Honestly, Kael couldn't tell what this place was supposed to be anymore.
"Lord Valkar, I heard you were here. Did you come to see me?"
The new voice was nasal, a little too high-pitched for comfort. Kael turned his head—slowly—toward the newcomer, hoping, perhaps foolishly, that the tension might be diffused.
What he saw made his brows twitch.
A delicate-looking young man—well, "delicate" in the same way a hippo in lipstick might be called elegant. The guy looked like he weighed three Kaels stacked together. His stubby legs, doughy cheeks, and short, light-brown hair gave the impression of a smug, well-fed piglet in ceremonial robes.
And yet, the boy was smiling bashfully, glancing everywhere except at Valkar's face.
Kael blinked.
Was this dude trying to seduce Valkar?
(He wasn't wrong.)
"Lord Valkar," the boy cooed, voice laced with what he must have thought was allure, "you've come to this humble tribe... is it because of me? Are you—uh, I mean... are you here to join my husbands?"
Yes. You heard that right.
Kael's brain stuttered.
This short-limbed, rosy-cheeked creature—whose only feature that could be deemed "small" was likely his underwhelming intellect—was known as Rova. An intriguing blend of charm and awkwardness, he was humorously regarded as the most beautiful female in the tribe, captivating others with his peculiar allure, despite the absurdity of his Casanova aspirations.
Because of his big, dark eyes.
Of course, they're big. There was nothing small about him.
Let's not talk about that. It's probably unusable anyway.
For reasons Kael couldn't even begin to understand—tribal insanity, perhaps—Rova had attracted not one, not two, but seven strong, handsome men into his harem. All within two years of reaching adulthood.
Aside from his "beauty," Rova also possessed Grade C spiritual energy—ranking him among the top three females in power.
In this world of beasts and corruption, he was made valuable. Males—beast or otherwise—could lose themselves to their own spiritual energy. When that happened, only females could stabilize them, could draw out the madness and restore their sanity.
Females were sacred. Treasured.
And among them, Rova believed himself to be a rare gem. Certainly a worthy match for someone like Valkar—a dragon no less.
What a perfect match.
Pig face. Pig brain. Truly complementary.
"Get lost."
Valkar's voice shattered the air like an axe to glass.
Kael flinched. Even the floor seemed to vibrate.
The dragon was furious.
He had just been rejected—humiliated—by the only female he had ever desired. And now this... this thing had the gall to approach him with simpering eyes and a marriage proposal?
Rova, oblivious to the danger, puffed up. "Lord Valkar, I—"
But he didn't finish.
His eyes—finally—moved away from Valkar and landed on Kael.
Slender body. Light-brown, intelligent eyes framed by long lashes. Pale, porcelain skin. Silky black hair that cascaded like ink over the bedding.
Rova's face paled.
[Damn it. Is that... a female? How can someone look like that?]
His tongue curled into silence. Thoughts thundered in his skull, but no words would come.
[Again. Again, you attract all the attention. You enchant everyone and make them love you. Will you attract suitors everywhere you go?]
[No. No, I won't allow it. You belong to me—only me.]
Valkar saw it.
Even knowing Rova was a female, his blood stirred at the look in the boy's eyes.
Possessive. Covetous.
Unacceptable.
Not again.
Not when Valkar's own instincts howled with the same hunger.
He moved without warning.
Kael didn't even have time to curse.
The dragon lifted him with infuriating ease—one arm cradling his legs, the other wrapped around his back like iron bands.
Kael screamed. Fought. Kicked and slapped like a child in a tantrum.
"No! No! Let me go! I said Let me go!"
His voice cracked, and his fists thudded harmlessly against Valkar's armored chest. He might as well have been punching a wall.
But Valkar was done listening. His tail slithered smoothly over the stone floor, propelling him forward with eerie, almost regal grace.
Kael's breath caught.
"My skate! My skate! Stop! I want my skate! My skate...!"
A flash of desperation in his voice finally pierced through the roaring silence.
Valkar didn't stop. But he did shift.
Without breaking stride—or slither—he extended the tip of his tail, curled it around the abandoned roller skate by the wall, and swept it up with absurd precision.
Kael watched, mouth agape.
Kael: "..."
Can tails really be used like that, too...?
---
Author's Note – Irato-san has something to say:
Valkar: "Oh, tails can be used for many things, in many situations. Come here, my wife, I'll show you."
Kael fled at lightning speed—if not for his life, then certainly for the sake of his poor little chrysanthemum.
--------------------------------------
Author's Note – Irato-san has something to say:
Valkar: "Oh, tails can be used for many things, in many situations. Come here, my wife, I'll show you."
Kael fled at lightning speed—if not for his life, then certainly for the sake of his poor little chrysanthemum.
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