A Silent Bond: The Stray That Stayed

[MC's POV]

The scent of herbs and freshly baked sweets filled the air as I stepped into the village's small apothecary. Wooden shelves lined the walls, stacked with glass jars of dried flowers, powders, and glowing liquids. The warm glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the old windows, dust motes dancing in its rays.

"Ah, you again," the shopkeeper—a stout woman in her fifties—peered at me over her spectacles. "Come to sell more potions?"

I nodded, setting a small crate on the counter. "Three low-grade healing potions, two stamina restoratives."

She picked up a vial, tilting it in the light. "Good quality. You must have a steady hand, girl. You sure you're just a D-rank adventurer?"

I offered a slight smile, but didn't answer. What could I say? That the original owner of this body had barely scraped by on potion-making, while I, someone who had played this game obsessively, knew every trick in the book?

The shopkeeper chuckled at my silence. "Fine, fine. I'll take them. Ah, and since you're here, we just put out a fresh batch of chocolate cake pops. Care for a few?"

My stomach growled at the mere mention. The rich aroma of cocoa and sugar was already tempting enough, but the thought of biting into something soft and sweet after days of eating nothing but dried meat and bread was too much to resist.

I hesitated for about two seconds. "I'll take three."

The shopkeeper smirked, bagging them up. "Sweet tooth, huh? You're more human than you look, girl."

That made me pause. More human than I look?

I took the bag and left, my thoughts drifting. She wasn't wrong—I had been so focused on survival, on adapting, that I barely allowed myself to enjoy things. In my past life, I had loved sweets. Now, standing in the middle of the bustling market, I took a bite of the cake pop, the soft, chocolatey taste melting on my tongue. It was warm. Comforting. A small reminder that I was still… me.

[---]

The dungeon I chose for the day was a low-level ruin just outside the village. Dark stone corridors, rusted weapons, the distant sounds of scuttling monsters—it was a straightforward dungeon meant for beginner adventurers. For me, it was farming grounds.

With my potions and new magic, I cut through the dungeon with ease. Fire spells charred goblins to ash, while wind blades sliced through wolves. I wasn't just surviving—I was getting stronger. And with each victory, the old identity of this body—the weak, struggling D-rank adventurer—felt more like a ghost of the past.

But as I stepped out into the cool evening air, something caught my eye.

A group of men stood near the tree line, dragging something wrapped in heavy iron chains. Something small, struggling, whimpering.

I narrowed my eyes.

A baby dragon.

Its scales were pitch black, like the night sky without stars. The chains glowed faintly with magic, suppressing its power. The men—bandits, from the look of them—laughed as they pulled it along.

Tch.

I wasn't the hero type. I had no grand ideals of justice. But the sight of the little creature—trembling, its golden eyes wide with fear—made something ugly twist in my stomach.

I moved without thinking.

A quick spell and the bandits were out cold before they even knew what hit them. They weren't strong—just scum preying on something weaker. I stepped over their unconscious bodies and knelt by the dragon.

It flinched as I reached out.

I sighed. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Carefully, I pried the magic restraints off its small frame. The baby dragon whimpered, its tiny claws scraping against the ground as it tried to move. I let out another sigh and placed a hand on its head, casting a low-tier healing spell.

The wounds sealed, but I didn't wait for thanks.

"Go."

The dragon blinked up at me.

I turned and walked away.

I didn't owe it anything. And I didn't need attachments. This world was too cruel for that.

[---]

But it didn't leave.

For days, I felt it watching. Following. Hunting small animals and leaving them near my camp as if trying to earn its keep. At first, I ignored it. Then I left food out. Then, one night, as I sat by my campfire, stirring a pot of stew, I heard it.

"…Tch."

I froze.

A low, grumbling voice.

"…Fine. I suppose… I should say something."

Slowly, I turned. The black baby dragon sat a few feet away, its tail flicking, golden eyes narrowed. It was trying to look annoyed. Indifferent. But its tiny claws flexed against the dirt, its wings twitching.

A tsundere dragon?

I bit back a laugh.

"Well?" I said, raising an eyebrow. "What do you want to say?"

It huffed, looking away. "…Thank you."

I smiled. "Took you long enough."

The dragon scowled, but it didn't leave.

[---]

Over the next few days, we settled into an unspoken rhythm. It followed me everywhere—though it would never admit it. I hunted, and it pretended not to wait for its share. It trained with me, testing its small claws and flames, growing stronger.

And finally, I decided to name it.

"Kkum."

The dragon tilted its head. "What's that?"

I smiled, the word rolling off my tongue like a distant memory. "It means 'dream' in my original language."

Kkum blinked, then scoffed. "Hmph. I suppose that's… fine."

I laughed. "Glad you approve."

As the days passed, Kkum's presence became something familiar. A silent protector. A reminder that even in this cruel world, I wasn't alone.

And maybe… just maybe, I didn't have to be.