Chapter 9 …
“Ah-choo!”
Resting under the shade of a tree, Lyciansius grimaced as spit sprayed across his face. Unable to bring himself to wipe something so filthy with his bare hand, he wiped it off with his collar instead and silently fixed his gaze on Sweetpea.
Though the weather was warm, the night air after sunset was still chilly. Sweetpea, who had approached Lyciansius the moment he woke up in the morning, had accidentally sneezed right in his face. Startled, she froze on the spot.
“Uh, um…”
Lyciansius wasn’t exactly pleased. The brat was annoying, bothersome, and entirely unwelcome.
Because of their bond, the child’s voice echoed unpleasantly in his head, and in a moment of misplaced pity, he had reached out to her. That had been his mistake. Sooner or later, he would no longer have to see her, but still—getting sneezed on was infuriating.
“S-sorry…”
“…”
“…I’m really sorry…”
Still, he wasn’t so wicked a dragon as to harm a child who had made a harmless mistake. She would die soon enough anyway.
“Tch.”
When he finally turned his gaze away in irritation, Sweetpea relaxed and moved closer again, kneeling right beside him.
“But, Lyci—”
“Don’t call me that. That’s not a nickname for you to use.”
“Then… Lyci?”
“Stop calling me that disgusting name.”
“Anyway, Lyciansius. Please listen to me.”
Though she seemed easily frightened, Sweetpea had a streak of boldness. Even after his warning, she insisted on calling him by nicknames. Lyciansius, tired of correcting her, gave up altogether.
“We need to make money.”
“Money?”
He let out a short, derisive laugh. The bold words of this fragile human child bruised his pride.
“You expect me to care about the pitiful human invention of currency?”
Just yesterday she had been going on about money. He had gone out of his way to save her from death, and in return she wanted him to involve himself in humanity’s vulgar market?
“No, it’s not that…”
The sharp edge in his voice made Sweetpea wring her fingers nervously, her voice shrinking.
“Speak clearly.”
He hated nothing more than a mumbling voice. When he spoke coldly, Sweetpea forced herself to raise her head and answer firmly.
“I’m human, aren’t I?”
“Obviously.”
“For a day or two, I can… ah-choo!”
“…”
“I-I can sleep outside… ah-choo!”
“…”
“But in winter, I’ll freeze to death… ah-choo!”
Was she doing this on purpose?
“I need to eat at least once a day, even if not three meals…”
“…”
“And at least one winter coat… ah-choo!”
She probably wasn’t faking it, yet the timing was so impeccable that he began to doubt. Sneezing at every other word made it feel as if he were the heartless dragon for letting her sleep outside.
Not that she would even live long enough to see winter. He had no reason to feel guilty.
He had given her freedom—where she would otherwise have been abused by her own kind. That alone was an act of generosity.
“You don’t have to do anything, Lyciansius. I’ll think of a way to make money myself.”
“So I really don’t have to do anything, is that it?”
“Well… not exactly…”
“Don’t go back on your word, brat.”
“But you could at least help a little…”
“And why should I?”
“Because… ah-choo! Ah-choo!”
“You sly little brat.”
Lyciansius revised his opinion. Maybe she wasn’t innocent after all—maybe she was crafty.
“Where are you going?”
When he stood up from the tree he had been leaning against, Sweetpea’s eyes went wide.
“You won’t stop chattering. It’s exhausting.”
“Are you going to abandon me?”
She grabbed onto his collar.
“Let go.”
He shook his wrist lightly, signaling her to release him. Distrust lingered in her eyes, but her grip soon slackened, and she fidgeted nervously with her hands.
“You’ll come back, right?”
Lyciansius didn’t answer. He simply walked toward the cliff’s edge.
“I’ll keep calling you until you return!”
Her desperate, half-threatening shout made him finally look back. He let out a silent sigh.
Had he gone too far? Sweetpea swallowed hard. Lyciansius finally spoke.
“Call me only when it’s urgent.”
His voice was thick with annoyance, but Sweetpea’s face brightened with relief.
Without another word, Lyciansius shifted into his true form and soared into the sky, shrinking to a black speck in the distance. Sweetpea’s smile faded as she watched him disappear.
Swoosh—
The cool breeze stirred the grass and trees, filling the air with whispers.
A dragon! The dragon’s companion!
The natural world recognized its long-lost master without anyone needing to tell it. Sweetpea walked up to the noisiest tree and spoke.
“Hey, can you help me?”
The tree hesitated. Was she truly speaking to it? Sweetpea patted its trunk firmly.
“Yes, I meant you.”
While Sweetpea was speaking with the plants, Lyciansius completed his swift flight and landed in a dense forest. It was a familiar place for them both—especially for him.
His hand, reaching unconsciously toward a flower-covered grave, froze at the sound of a long-forgotten voice.
“Cherish humans.”
The touch that once caressed a flower—
“Cherish them the way you cherished me.”
The steadfast gaze that once looked at him…
“…”
The past pulled at him again.
“I’ll give you a reason to live.”
From beneath the depths of memory, the present reached out.
“I’ll make life so fun you won’t want to die.”
Of all voices, it had to be that brat’s…
“…We’ve been stuck together too long.”
He didn’t want to live or find amusement, but he was curious—curious about what she would do next.
“Maybe I will try cherishing humans… like you said.”
He would return anyway. For now, it was only a brief farewell.
Breaking free from the chains that bound her already felt like freedom. Sweetpea had much she had never experienced, and so much more she wanted to do. That was why she didn’t want to die.
Lyciansius spared me because of that promise I made him.
She had promised to bring him amusement. If she failed, he would let another dragon kill her—or worse, kill her himself.
She was grateful to him, and she didn’t dislike him. The fact that he tolerated her cheekiness showed that he didn’t see humans entirely as insects.
But she was still afraid. She acted more boldly around him because she felt that was what kept him entertained. Yet she didn’t know how to truly amuse him.
It was daunting. Who knew how long the dragon battles over companions would last? Until then, she couldn’t let Lyciansius leave her or kill her.
First things first—money.
She needed money both for survival now and for her future. Luckily, a small flower growing in the cliffside had whispered a clever idea to her. Sweetpea decided to follow its advice.
“Thank you so much. When Lyciansius comes back…”
She was about to thank the flower when the gentle breeze suddenly turned into a gust.
She knew this feeling well.
Sweetpea rose to her feet as the black dragon appeared in the distance. As he approached, the wind grew into a storm. By the time she shielded her eyes with her arm, the gale died down, and in front of her stood Lyciansius in human form.
His dry, weary expression made her hesitate, but then she broke into a bright smile and rushed toward him—stopping awkwardly just short of hugging him.
“You came back!”
“I promised, didn’t I?”
He shrugged with a crooked grin.
“Unlike humans, I don’t lie.”
At least he didn’t seem intent on abandoning her yet.
“Oh, right.”
“…What?”
“Didn’t my little companion say she’d think of a way to earn money?”
He fully expected a child to have no such plan—this was just to tease her. But Sweetpea only smiled wider and nodded confidently.
“Yes!”
Her firm reply surprised him.
“I’m going to sell flowers!” she declared proudly.
“And where do you plan to grow them?”
“Flowers grow in nature anyway. Since you’re fast, you can fly around and collect them…”
“And the wrapping paper or vases?”
“Um… well…”
“And the cart to carry all those flowers?”
“We can make one!”
“How?”
“Well, you can—”
His expression immediately darkened.
“And who will pull this cart?”
“You will—”
“You sly brat…”
Getting his help wasn’t going to be easy. After some thought, Sweetpea came up with a new plan.
“I’ve got a better idea!”
“What now?”
“I’ll just steal a cart!”
“…”
Lyciansius pressed a hand to his forehead.
So much for being a sweet little child—now he had to teach her about morals and conscience.
