Chapter 7 …
Sweet Pea hated Chris.
If it hadn’t been for Chris in the first place…
She wouldn’t have had to run away into the forest, she wouldn’t have been threatened by the red dragon, and she wouldn’t have needed to learn that Lisiansus—the one she had come to care for—was in fact a dragon.
And that wasn’t even all.
Why did I have to get beaten by Madam Margo?
Being dragged like a hunted beast and locked in a shed—every last bit of it was Chris’s fault.
And yet he didn’t feel the slightest guilt. On the contrary, just because he’d opened the door for her, he strutted about arrogantly. If it hadn’t been with Madam Margo’s permission, stepping outside that door would only have earned her harsher punishment.
Chris never shouldered responsibility for what he did, nor did he feel remorse. Still, Sweet Pea sometimes felt gratitude alongside her resentment—after all, without them she might have lived an even worse life.
But suddenly, Sweet Pea thought—
Could there be a life worse than this?
If she had done anything wrong toward Chris, it was only that she’d gotten close to Lisiansus without his permission. Without Chris’s approval, she wasn’t allowed to get close to anyone. She was treated worse than the village’s stray dogs.
And suddenly, she felt pathetic for having run to the village in the first place, trying to protect these people.
Yes, she had been afraid of Lisiansus once she learned he was a dragon. She had wanted to run. But Lisiansus had never harmed her, nor the villagers. The ones actually hurting her were the very people she had tried to save.
Resentment welled up inside her. No matter how she tried to suppress it, the bitterness spread through her heart like fire across oil.
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
“……”
“If you know what’s good for you, next time—”
“I wish you were dead.”
The words spilled out, heavy with all the resentment filling her chest.
“…What?”
Chris blinked, startled, as though he hadn’t heard correctly.
Sweet Pea knew she could backpedal even now, pretend she hadn’t meant it. Her mind screamed that this was a mistake—but once her hatred had burst forth, she couldn’t hold it back. Her loathing burned stronger than her fear.
“I said I wish you were dead.”
Chris’s smug expression froze. Gone was the swagger, replaced by a stiff mask.
After a brief silence, his face twisted with rage.
“You crazy brat.”
Chris strode toward her, fists clenched. He couldn’t control his anger—he was going to hit her again. Sweet Pea knew it, but she refused to hide her feelings this time.
“I hate you. And I hate your mother.”
“You little—!”
“And the villagers who stand by and watch, who go along with it—they’re disgusting!”
“You filthy beggar, know your place!”
Chris swung his fist. A dull thud rang out as Sweet Pea’s head snapped back. She fell to the ground, and he immediately kicked her.
Curling up into a crescent to shield herself, Sweet Pea glared up at him even as she covered her head. The way he lashed out in blind violence, trampling the weak for his own satisfaction—he was the spitting image of Madam Margo. It made her skin crawl.
“Say it again, you brat.”
“Hhh…”
“Say exactly what you just said!”
Out of breath from the blows, Sweet Pea gasped weakly. Chris seized her by the collar, yanking her upright.
The look in his eyes said: If you want more, go on—say it again.
You think I can’t?
Grinding her teeth, Sweet Pea shouted—
“Die, Chris!”
“You—why, you little—!”
“I hope a dragon comes and burns this whole village down!”
Chris raised his hand high, ready to strike her once more. But suddenly, a fierce gust of wind swept through the open door. It wasn’t that kind of weather—yet the sudden blast made Chris falter.
This wind…
It was just like the wind from the dragon’s wings the first time she met him.
No way…
She turned toward the doorway, half in disbelief—and saw a massive black silhouette blocking out the moon.
“Wh-who are you?!”
Chris spun toward the figure, alarmed, though he couldn’t make out the person in the dark. Sweet Pea, however, recognized him immediately.
“…Lisiansus.”
The name slipped from her lips before she realized. Lisiansus stepped into the shed, his tall frame nearly brushing the low ceiling. He strode toward them without hesitation.
“Stay back—ugh!”
Before Chris could finish his warning, Lisiansus had him by the throat, lifting him into the air as easily as picking up a stick.
It had only been a few days, but Sweet Pea felt as though she were seeing him after years apart—he seemed strange, unfamiliar.
He’s a dragon… I should fear him.
And yet, every time she was in danger, it was Lisiansus who saved her. This was already the third time.
The first—when she fled from Chris’s blows.
The second—when the red dragoness threatened her.
And now—the third—right here.
Whether willingly or reluctantly, he was the only one who reached out to her.
Lisiansus stood still, holding Chris aloft as though he weighed nothing.
“So, you’re that little male brat from before.”
At last he spoke.
“Le—let… me go—cough!”
Chris’s face turned red as he struggled, unable to breathe. Sweet Pea realized this was exactly like when she had been caught by the red dragoness—except she had been rescued, while no one would save Chris. Not even Madam Margo could stand against a dragon.
“I told you before. A gentleman never strikes a lady.”
His hand was in human form, no veins bulging, no claws extended. But Sweet Pea knew—he could crush Chris like snapping a twig if he wished.
She looked at Chris.
How vile.
Oppressing and beating someone weaker, never realizing it was wrong… She had tried to see them as family, the ones who had taken her in. But now she had to admit the truth—she had only ever been their useful little slave.
She wanted Chris to suffer as she had. To know the pain of violence he could not fight, to taste the misery of being orphaned and despised.
“Break his arm.”
The words slipped out, raw and impulsive.
Lisiansus’s eyes widened slightly as he looked down at her.
“….”
Sweet Pea’s heart skipped. Would he do it? Or would he scorn her for being so brazen?
“Break that bastard’s arm.”
She repeated herself firmly. Lisiansus let out a soft chuckle.
Her stomach knotted at the sound—until—
“AAAGH!”
Chris screamed. He writhed on the ground. Lisiansus had snapped his arm with a clean, brutal crack and tossed him aside.
Though Chris howled in agony, Sweet Pea felt not the slightest pity.
“Are you satisfied now?”
Suddenly, Lisiansus leaned down close, his long black hair brushing her forehead.
“A little,” she admitted.
“Then you won’t be calling for me again, will you?”
His voice sounded almost gentle, yet carried only irritation. Why, then, had he come at all? Even if he could hear her thoughts from afar—as dragons might—why hadn’t he simply ignored her?
“Why did you come?”
She grabbed him as he turned to leave. He could easily have walked away, but instead he turned back, tapping his ear with a finger.
“Too loud.”
“…”
“Like it or not, you and I are connected. I can’t block out your voice when you call for me.”
He lifted his hand. On the back glowed a blue butterfly mark. Sweet Pea looked at her own hand. The faint mark shimmered back into visibility.
“You mean… even if I only call for you in my heart, you hear me? Why?”
She already knew the answer. She remembered the red dragoness’s words that day.
“Because… I’m your mate?”
The moment she said it, his expression iced over. The irritation vanished, replaced with chilling cold. For a moment she thought he really might leave her behind.
“Don’t go!”
She couldn’t let him go.
“If you leave, I’ll keep calling your name. Over and over—until it’s so loud you’ll want to die! I swear I will!”
Like a child throwing a tantrum, she clung to him. To her surprise, he came back to her.
Her heart thudded nervously, but she refused to look away. He bent down until his golden eye was level with hers.
“I’ve already shown a good deal of kindness to a good little child.”
“…”
“So. What is it you want from me?”
At that moment—
“Why is this door open?!”
Madam Margo’s voice rang out. She spotted Chris collapsed in the corner and came running.
“Chris? Chris!”
Panic surged. If Lisiansus left now, Sweet Pea might really be beaten to death—or worse.
Yet even with another person approaching, Lisiansus looked only at her. She met his golden eye—and seized his hand.
“Burn this village. Take me away with you.”
He stared at her hand clutching his, looking almost dazed. She gripped tighter as Madam Margo drew nearer.
“Lisiansus—please?”
For a long moment, he was silent. Then he smiled faintly, tugging her hand playfully. The butterfly marks on both their hands flared brightly.
“Very well.”
Just as Madam Margo burst into the shed, Lisiansus’s body shifted. His eyes slitted, and in an instant, his true form emerged.
The shed collapsed under the sudden bulk of the dragon, though Sweet Pea, beneath his towering body, remained uncrushed. Margo and Chris vanished from view, though the villagers’ screams echoed through the night.
The dragon’s massive body, unseen for years, was overwhelming. Yet to her, he was not a terror—he was salvation.
Without hesitation, Sweet Pea clambered onto his foot, clutching the scaled ankle. His wings beat, lifting them skyward, and fire roared over the village below.
Some fled, some screamed, others stood frozen in horror. In moments, the village was chaos. And the dragon soared higher, leaving only wind and flames behind.
Clinging to the dragon’s scaled leg, Sweet Pea looked down at the burning village. Fear churned in her chest—fear of the unknown future awaiting her. But one thing she was certain of—
She would never again live as a slave in that place.
From now on, her life would be shaped by her own choices.
