Episode 5.
“Hsst, no.”
Baberi made the same warning sound she used on Kongddeok whenever the mutt tried to steal her food.
“Watch your mouth. You don’t just go calling a king a thug.”
She shot Kur a glare that said don’t mess with me, then flicked her fingers again.
“Hand over the money. His Majesty has urgent need of it.”
She tried to lend weight to her voice, as if authority alone could cloak her in dignity.
Money, really?
Kur looked at her like she was utterly ridiculous.
“I said hurry up and give it here!”
Just then, her stomach growled—loud enough to echo.
When was the last time she had eaten? She couldn’t remember.
Grrrgle. Growl-growl-growwl.
The moment she realized how hungry she was, her belly made a whole ruckus of protest. At last she surrendered to necessity.
“I’ll forgive you for calling me a thug, but only if you bring me food.”
“I told you I’d help you become king,” Kur replied flatly. “Not play errand boy for your meals.”
In other words: find someone else.
But in the end, he had to rise to his feet. Who else was there?
Kur only meant to toss her a scrap of bread if he could find any, but the abandoned cottage yielded nothing but a handful of oats.
“Eat.”
He held the grains out in his fist. Barberry scowled at him as if she’d been gravely insulted.
“You’re supposed to cook it into porridge at least.”
“I’ve never cooked a day in my life.”
“Then consider this a merciful chance granted you by your king.”
Which, of course, meant she intended to work him like a servant. Kur trudged into the kitchen with a face full of reluctant resentment.
Where to even begin?
He glanced around and spotted the hearth.
“First, fire.”
With a flick of magic, flames roared to life.
The trouble came after.
Kur was lost. He’d watched people cook before, but never tried it himself.
“Do I… just put it in a pot?”
With a puzzled frown, he set a pot on the fire and poured in the oats. He stared at them, waiting.
But instead of softening into porridge, the smell of burning rose.
Panic set in. He grabbed water and dumped it in. Blackened oats bobbed to the surface.
After a while, it began to boil. Kur smiled, satisfied.
Only to realize something was wrong.
“Is porridge supposed to look like that?”
When the water boiled down, all that remained were ashen-gray grains. Every oat porridge he’d ever seen was pale and thin.
Trying to salvage the mess, he tossed in random powders and dried herbs he found in jars—seasonings, maybe? The smell only grew stranger.
“….”
Kur stared down at the blackened sludge with a blank expression. No one could mistake it for anything but a culinary disaster.
“…Well, at least everything I put in is edible.”
Unappetizing, perhaps, but surely not poisonous.
He killed the fire and carried the pot out, barehanded despite the steam.
“What’s with the color?”
Baberis reaction was exactly what he expected.
“They’re black oats,” Kur said with a straight face.
She eyed him with deep suspicion and sniffed the concoction. The smell was… off.
“Is this even safe to eat? Did you taste it?”
Kur flinched. He hadn’t. One look was enough to know it was ruined.
“You wanted me to cook, and now you complain? Do you think you’re in any position to be picky? There’s nothing else left here. If you’d rather starve, be my guest.”
He avoided her eyes as if already tired of her fussing.
It still smelled strange, but Baberi’s hunger won out. She picked up a spoon, blew on the porridge, and put a bite in her mouth.
“…It’s not as bad as I thou—”
She never finished. Darkness claimed her. For the second time that day, she collapsed.
***
“Haah!”
Baberi jolted awake, gasping for breath. Kur, startled, gave a small sigh of relief when he saw her eyes open.
“You bas—!”
She lunged and grabbed him by the collar.
“You pretended to form an alliance just to poison me, didn’t you?”
Her hands trembled with fury and betrayal.
Kur bit his lip, guilt flickering in his eyes, but she was far too enraged to notice.
“I told you—I’ve never cooked before…” he muttered, looking away.
Baberi shook him harder, still clutching his collar with one hand.
“I did my best!”
“You tried your best to kill me?”
He insisted he hadn’t meant to harm her, but she no longer believed him.
“So this is what it’s like, having an ally you might be assassinated by at any moment. How reassuring.”
She sneered, rising from the bed.
“You fainted because your body’s weak, not because of the food.”
Kur tried a new excuse, though his voice carried little conviction.
“What?”
Her glare pinned him in silence. Whatever else he had been about to say died on his lips.
“I should’ve just chewed the raw oats,” she muttered, shooting him a withering look.
No matter how hungry she got, she swore never to touch his cooking again.
Her stomach growled in protest. Still, she ignored the black sludge entirely.
Today, of all days, she longed for the spicy rice cakes Yoo Chaelin used to buy her.
***
Leaving the failed porridge behind, Baberi stepped out of the hut, ticking tasks off on her fingers.
“First, medicine. And real food—not poison.”
Her voice dripped with sarcasm. Kur scowled but said nothing.
Together, they headed north along Pony Canyon toward Tiris Village.
But when they arrived, the place felt… strange.
Some villagers were hurriedly packing to leave, others’ houses already stood abandoned.
“Why’s everything in such chaos?” Baberi murmured.
“Looks like they’re evacuating.” Kur’s reply was flat, almost sullen.
The word evacuation made sense. People fled as if war had broken out.
Then Baberi glanced at the man beside her and understood. A dragon’s presence was no less terrifying than war.
“Not sure we’ll find much to buy here,” she muttered.
All the more reason to hurry before everyone left. At this rate, she really might collapse from hunger.
Wandering the disordered streets, she at last found a bakery.
[Yesterday’s Bread – 3 Gold]
The sign stuck in front of the hard loaves made her scowl.
“Why’s it so stale?”
Three gold was far too steep. But no other shop remained open.
Still better than that porridge.
With a sigh, she turned to Kur and held out her palm.
“Money.”
“Don’t have any.”
“Quit joking. Hand it over.”
Her voice sharpened with hunger, but Kur only shook his head calmly.
“No joke. Truly none.”
“You must have enough for at least a loaf.”
Yet no matter how desperately she looked at him, his answer stayed the same.
“If I had it, I’d say so.”
“Why lie about having money?”
The shopkeeper cleared his throat irritably, watching their bickering.
“If you’ve no coin, get out. I’ve got to close up and flee like the rest.”
Thrown out empty-handed, Baberi trudged along, still fuming. She couldn’t believe a dragon had no money.
Even she could tell his clothes looked expensive. And yet—broke?
“Then sell the clothes.”
“These aren’t clothes. Just magic. My skin made to look like fabric.”
“Then peel off your skin and sell—”
“Are you trying to sound like a thug?”
She admitted that was a step too far. But still, what else could they do with no coin at all?
“Seriously, why don’t you have money? Isn’t that strange?”
“And you, shouting about becoming king with not a penny to your name, that isn’t strange?”
Her temper flared. How could she possibly have any wealth? She’d been exiled, dragged back in chains, then tossed into a dragon hunt. She’d always been poor.
As a branded traitor, owning property was even outlawed.
She’d survived by hunting rabbits and foxes in the woods. On days she failed, she simply starved. A day without food was nothing new.
But two years in Korea had softened her. Three meals a day, all cooked by someone else—whether restaurants or delivery. Losing that now felt like a death sentence.
“Broke! You broke lizard!”
Kur had endured her griping with patience, but that jab made him snort in derision.
“And why would you ever think I’d carry human money?”
“Then how do you even live? What do you eat?”
Her voice rose, then faltered. What else would a dragon hunt, if not rabbits or foxes?
No—she kept forgetting. Kur wasn’t human.
The truth dawned on her, and a chill ran down her spine.
“Just so you know, I’m all skin and bones. Not worth eating.”
She edged back warily. Kur’s face twisted in disgust.
“I don’t eat humans unless I’m desperate.”
“Why not?”
“They taste terrible.”
For him to know that meant he had eaten them before.
Barberry inched farther away.
“No matter how hungry I get, I wouldn’t touch someone as tasteless-looking as you. I’d rather starve.”
The disdain in his voice made her bristle. Insulted or not, at least it meant she was safe.
“Food’s one thing. But how are we supposed to get medicine like this?”
She rubbed her aching arm, still sore.
“His Majesty is unwell. A loyal subject ought to find a solution.”
“….”
“Silent rebellion? Insolent vassal. How do you expect the kingdom to survive?”
Kur’s brow twitched, but he had no answer.
Now what?
With no better idea, Barberry trudged toward the village apothecary—the only one in sight.
“Looks like he’s packing to leave too.”
Sure enough, the man in front of the shop was stuffing belongings into a bundle.
She needed to act fast, before he vanished. And without money.
An idea sparked.
“Oh. Genius.”
A sly grin spread across her face.
