Chapter 36
A dance partner? As if I’d have one.
I was about to shake my head… when I suddenly remembered the first and only person I’d ever danced with—Kai.
In that brief pause, Linda must have picked up on my hesitation. Her lips curved knowingly.
“Hoho, did someone come to mind?”
“A-ah, no! There’s no one I know! If it’s not for dancing, then what kind of outfit will you prepare?”
“If you’re planning to sneak off to the festival, I should make something colorful—but subtle—so you don’t stand out.”
“…Colorful but subtle?”
“It’s a festival, after all.”
“Ahh.”
I understood right away.
Since it was the spring festival, people would dress as brightly and colorfully as possible. If I showed up wearing something gloomy just to avoid standing out, I’d probably end up drawing pitying looks instead.
“Okay, make me something subtly colorful. It’s not like I have anyone to dance with anyway!”
“If you do want a dance, I’m sure the young masters would be happy to oblige.”
“Ugh, do I really have to spend even the festival hanging out with my brothers?”
“Ahaha! Oh my, excuse me.”
Linda and I exchanged a knowing wink. Maybe Linda had brothers of her own.
“Is the Duke… I mean, Father, in his office right now?”
“Yes. If you’d like to see him, you can give a note to the maid when she brings him a glass of water. That way, you can request a meeting.”
“Thanks!”
Having to send a meeting request just to see your father—honestly. But it couldn’t be helped. A duke was basically this land’s CEO, chief of police, and prime minister all in one.
I handed the note to the office maid and sat on the stairs nearby, collecting my thoughts.
The Duke hadn’t looked too happy when he gave me permission to exchange letters, had he? I should first show him that the correspondence is going well to put him at ease. Then I’ll slowly teach him what healthy human relationships are!
Honestly, whether the world follows the original novel or not doesn’t concern me. But I hate seeing kids get hurt. Duke Schlaeger, please take care of your children. This original story literally certified you as trash.
The novel barely explained why he became such garbage. He was already cold-blooded, but after gaining the Silver Dragon’s power, his temper worsened, and when his wife died, even the last shred of conscience crossed the River Jordan. That’s it.
I don’t expect to reform him. But if he can at least pretend to be a doting father, maybe he’ll learn how to hurt his sons a little less.
Where should I start…?
As I was lost in thought, I spotted a maid leaving the office after delivering a snack. She smiled when she saw me.
“He seems busy, but if it’s you, Miss, he’ll come out quickly. His Grace really cherishes you.”
“Hehe, of course, right? Thank you!”
I said it with a smile, but come on—cherishes? That guy doesn’t cherish me. It’s all an act.
Time passed quickly as I waited outside the office.
Ten minutes… twenty… thirty…
Just as I was about to give up and leave a note suggesting a specific time, I heard a strange sound from inside the office. Drip. Drip. Like water steadily falling.
Did he spill a water jug? But there’s no way he’d just leave it there…
…Wait a second.
A headline flashed through my mind like breaking news:
“Death by Overwork at Desk Again… Tragic Morning Discovery of a Father of Three in His 40s”
He sits too long! He works alone! Overwork! He’s middle-aged, whether he looks it or not!
He ticks every box!!
Panicked, I shoved open the heavy office door with my whole shoulder.
“Duke! Are you alri—?”
And what I saw inside the office—
…Honestly, I would’ve been less shocked if he’d been slumped over his desk, dead.
The Duke was conscious. Physically unharmed. But mentally? Definitely not okay.
He had shoved his right arm into the lit fireplace.
Reptilian, ice-like scales kept forming on the arm, only to melt off in the flames. That must’ve been the source of the dripping water sound.
“D-Duke! What are you doing?!”
“What brings you here, Sol?”
He answered in an oddly soft tone, looking utterly exhausted. There were dark shadows under his eyes. Crap, is he hallucinating from overwork?
I rushed forward, deciding words weren’t enough.
“Are you insane?! Take your arm out—Eek!”
C-Cold!
The moment I grabbed his collar, it felt like I’d been electrocuted. That’s how fast the cold reached my bones. The Duke clicked his tongue.
“Don’t do anything unnecessary—”
“Ouch! That hurts!”
“—Back off before you get frostbite—”
“Duke, sir, I’d like an explanation first before I back off!”
“…Damn it.”
With a long sigh, the Duke swirled his arm in the flames once more, then stood up. A miniature snowstorm swirled inside the fireplace, and the flames were snuffed out instantly.
His arm wasn’t exactly unscathed. It was beet red and looked scalding hot.
“I’ll get some cold water! You need to ice it!”
“Sol, do you even know who I am?”
“A middle-aged office worker who died from overwork!”
“…What?”
“I mean—uh, never mind…”
“…Haah.”
The Duke sighed again.
“You must have really been scared. I’m fine.”
He drew a small circle in the air. Immediately, snowflake-sized ice crystals began to fall from it, cooling his arm. The redness started to fade.
Ah… Right. He can manipulate ice. And here I was, offering to get cold water like an idiot.
My face flushed with embarrassment. But that feeling didn’t last long.
So cold!!
“Achoo!”
Now that I looked, the windows were frosted over, and the floor was wet from melting ice!
I hugged myself and shivered.
“Duke, seriously—what is going on?”
“…Are you cold?”
“Yes!”
“You’re quite the nuisance.”
Yikes, am I about to get kicked out?
But instead, the Duke rang the handbell. When a startled maid entered the icy room, he said calmly,
“Blankets. Warm soup. And fresh firewood.”
Soon, the office was cozy again, and I sat with a cup of cocoa in hand. But I could still vividly remember how the chill from his body had pierced me to the bone.
“Duke, what was all that? Your room was freezing, and you had your arm in a fireplace! Are you okay?”
In response, he rolled up his sleeve dramatically. Beneath the scorched shirt, his muscled arm was covered in scars.
Cuts, puncture wounds, burns, big and small… I swallowed nervously.
“I’ve been through a lot since childhood. War. Monster attacks. Harsh terrain. Military campaigns… I handled most of it with my own strength.”
“Most of it?”
“There’s still one thing I can’t control.”
He opened his palm, and a silver bolt shot up toward the ceiling—then shattered into ice.
“…The power of the Silver Dragon. Sometimes it tries to consume me from within. So I was just burning it off.”
“Consume you? That power has a will of its own? It’s not just… a portable ice maker? Or, like, a personal winter?”
“You say the oddest things.”
He didn’t look even slightly amused.
“The dragon’s immense power exists to serve the world. It’s not something a mere human should carry.”
“…”
“But some lunatic ancestor of mine decided to fuse the sleeping Silver Dragon’s power with his own body, and this cursed game of hot potato began.”
“…If it’s really that painful—”
A dumb thought crossed my mind.
‘Can’t you just… give up the power?’
But that would be absurd. If he did, the vultures eyeing House Flugel would come rushing in.
While I hesitated, a crooked smile played on the Duke’s lips.
“So your sharp tongue fails you in moments like this. Don’t bother scraping together some half-hearted comfort. And next time, don’t barge into my office—”
“Fine, I’ll just use actions instead of words.”
“…Hm?”
I set down my mug and marched over, grabbing his right arm tightly. It was still hot, but underneath… I could feel a serpentine chill slithering inside.
Honestly, I was scared. What if he lashed out again and shot that cold into me?
But instead of backing off, I—
“Sol? What are you doing?”
“Guess. It’s something kids usually do for their parents.”
…I started massaging his arm.
Honestly, it wasn’t ideal for massaging—too muscular, and that writhing cold underneath was unsettling.
Still, out of sheer stubbornness, I pressed firmly against the chill, moving from forearm to upper arm, then to his shoulder. The Duke, initially bewildered, finally caught on.
“This is… could it be…”
“If you say ‘a new assassination technique,’ I’ll seriously hit you.”
“You must be feeling better if you’re joking.”
“I shouldn’t be, though.”
I pressed down on his stiff shoulders. It felt like a rock. Is this muscle or stone?
Giving up on massaging, I began tapping with my fists.
“Does it hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
Slowly, his breathing grew deeper and slower. The icy energy beneath his skin began to settle.
Thank goodness.
As I let out a sigh of relief, the Duke—eyes now closed—murmured,
“Did you do all that knowing it would calm the beast?”
“Hmm—”
Half, maybe.
There’s a similar scene in the original novel. After coming of age, Elber occasionally loses control of the dragon’s power.
Others feared and avoided him—but only the heroine approached him, calming him with kind words and fragrant herbs.
The point was: if someone else stepped in to distract him, it helped.
Of course, I didn’t mention any of that.
“Living inside a person must be hard for a dragon too. It’s already cramped; the least you can do is keep it cozy and soft.”
“…That’s the dumbest metaphor I’ve ever heard for a dragon’s power.”
“So am I wrong?”
“…No.”
See? I do think this novel had terrible logic, but I did read it thoroughly.
I kept tapping his shoulder for a while longer. His expression eased, and the chill beneath the skin faded. I finally stopped and asked,
“Are you feeling better now?”
“…Yes.”
He looked at my hand for a moment, hesitated, and answered slowly. Still, I was glad he calmed down.
As he adjusted in his chair, he asked,
“You requested a meeting, didn’t you? What did you want to talk about?”
“Yes! About the pen pal you allowed last time. Kai wrote back!”
…Did the room temperature just drop a degree again? Or is that my imagination, Duke?
