CHAPTER 34

When the hunting grounds opened, the crowd stirred.

But it wasn't excitement—just the release of held breaths.

I stayed where I was, watching the ceremonial send-off before my mission began.

Rows of noblewomen… handkerchiefs in hand.

But there were no coy smiles or flirtatious glances.

They were all… afraid.

One had a pale face, another kept her head down. One looked away while handing over the handkerchief, another murmured a silent prayer. One pressed the fabric to her husband's armor and whispered only one thing:

"No matter what… survive."

It wasn't a farewell laced with romance. It was an execution disguised as tradition.

And beneath my cloak, I shivered.

This wasn't a hunt. It was a ritual sacrifice orchestrated by the crown.

—

I stepped into my patrol route. Alone. Despite the cool air, sweat and dust clung to my skin.

The lines from my assignment form kept echoing in my head:

"Interference with living beings is only permitted in cases of human-on-human violence. This does not include injury, drowning, or dismemberment."

So… if a hunter got torn apart right in front of me, that was acceptable.

But if someone stabbed him—then I could act.

This wasn't a fair contest. This was theater.

—

Up ahead, a group of nobles walked together.

Their relaxed steps and careless tones made it look like they were on a stroll.

But this was a killing field.

Apparently, they didn't consider themselves part of it.

Their clothes were too clean.

One wore a lace collar, another satin gloves.

If one of them still had a pressed cloak, it meant none had hit the ground yet.

I couldn't stop myself from frowning.

What kind of hunter… comes dressed like that?

What kind of life-or-death contest looked like this?

But it wasn't the clothes that unsettled me—it was their expressions.

They weren't tense. They weren't cautious.

They didn't feel threatened.

And then it clicked:

They were the king's lapdogs.

There could be no other explanation for such confidence.

They had no fear because they already knew the rules.

Or more accurately… the rules didn't apply to them.

Which meant… this deadly game was rigged for someone else.

Then it appeared—a two-headed lion.

It wasn't normal.

Its hide looked like it had been forged from steel. Muscles coiled tight like springs.

Its eyes had dual focus. Its teeth glinted like silver.

The nobles attacked all at once.

Shouts, flashing magic, clashing swords…

I just stood there and watched.

The beast eventually fell.

One of them turned to me, panting and covered in sweat and blood.

"Hey, mage! You saw me land the final blow, didn't you?"

I looked at his face. He was wounded. Another one staggered from exhaustion.

I gave a small nod.

"I saw."

But all I could think was:

What about the ones alone? The ones sent out by themselves?

What kind of punishment was the king handing out here… and to whom?

—

As my route changed, the forest suddenly closed in.

Trees grew denser. The sky was farther away.

Sunlight fell like faded threads through the canopy.

The air carried a metallic silence—still, but not peaceful.

That's when I saw him—at the base of a tree.

The young prince.

Aurel was alone.

A tiny silhouette.

Compared to that earlier group… his solitude was almost absurd.

His back was straight. Shoulders tensed.

But his fingers… trembled subtly.

A miniature sword hung from his back—probably never used.

His armor was spotless.

It gleamed—something that shouldn't happen in a death zone.

His hair was chestnut-brown, with a stubborn lock falling over his forehead.

He kept brushing it back, failing every time.

His cheeks still held the softness of childhood.

But his eyes… had everything but youth.

Fear. Determination. Questions.

I looked at him.

So fragile. So out of place.

I gave a silent greeting.

He dipped his head in response, never meeting my eyes.

It was a rehearsed gesture.

To send Prince Aurel alone into this hunt said everything.

But if I interfered…

It would count as disobedience.

And the price wouldn't be mine alone to bear. The entire tower would pay.

Still… as I passed by, something twisted inside me.

My steps carried me away.

Why would the king want his own son dead?

This game never hinted at such things involving the royal family…

Then came the scream.

Sharp. Piercing. Deep enough to slice through bone.

Aurel. I knew the voice instantly.

In that moment, everything grew heavy around me. My feet rooted to the soil.

I forgot how to move.

This wasn't just a scream.

It was a plea. A child's cry.

And I almost turned back—almost.

But my mind slammed the rule back in my face:

"Interference is only allowed in human-on-human conflict."

So if this wasn't a human… if it was a monster, a threat, or just another "test"…

Stepping in would be a violation.

And the consequences wouldn't stop with me.

Everyone who trusted me—Lucian… they'd all suffer.

I clenched my eyes shut. My heart pounded harder.

Still, I stayed still.

I whispered to myself:

"You can't get involved. That's the rule."

But then came that inner voice—familiar and unwavering.

It was my conscience.

"This is a child, Elysia. Just like you once were. Left alone."

I couldn't just stand there.

But I couldn't outright disobey, either.

So I made a choice.

And that choice came in a single, quiet phrase:

"I'll just… check what's happening."

Yes. I wasn't interfering.

Just observing.

Maybe I'd find a loophole.

Maybe it wasn't too late.

Maybe…

My steps carried me without permission.

Slow. Quiet. Cautious.

But my body had already decided.

I wasn't walking the official protocol—I was tracing the edge of morality.

Through the underbrush, I whispered to myself:

"I'm not interfering. Just looking. Just… looking."

But deep down, I already knew it would never end at "just looking."

I ran.

Despite the fear crushing my chest, Aurel's cry still echoed through the forest.

The crunch of leaves beneath me was real—but quieter.

My foot slipped. Damp soil clutched my ankle. My breath caught.

But I didn't stop. I couldn't.

That voice… was a command now.

And then—I saw it.

In the clearing where the trees parted, it stood.

A monstrous creature.

Dragon—but not the kind we knew.

Four carriages long. Black-spined. Covered in sickly scales of gray and green, like fossilized rot.

No grace in its design. It was carved with hatred.

Its breath wasn't smoke—it was the stench of rotting flesh.

The smell didn't sicken me—what it meant did.

This thing wasn't born.

It was made.

Its eyes… yellow.

But dead.

No intelligence. No soul.

"A dragon?! Are they insane—putting a DRAGON in here?!"

Even my inner voice echoed uselessly.

Aurel stood before it.

A tiny body under its massive shadow.

Trying to shield himself with his bare hands.

So small.

So alone.

I couldn't engage.

The rules forbade direct involvement with royals.

Our independence and neutrality had to be preserved.

But maybe… I could distract it.

Without fully breaking the rules—create a window.

I faked a misstep.

Tumbled into the brush with a loud crash.

Branches snapped.

The dragon turned.

Its massive neck twisted.

The ground shook.

Its head lifted.

And then… we locked eyes.

Dead yellow met mine.

No spark. No comprehension.

But it saw me.

Then—system notification appeared:

⸻

🔔

[New Threat Detected!]

Beast: Incarnate Dragon

Power: 10,000

Resistance: 8,500

Aggression: Extremely High

⸻

My total magic? 40.

Attack power? 25.

The answer was obvious.

This… was suicide.

Aurel screamed again. His voice cracked:

"Mage! RUN!"

And I… ran.

Didn't look back.

Not cowardice—just survival.

Branches clawed at my face.

Thorns tangled in my cloak.

The dragon's breath roared behind me.

Its steps thundered like drums.

Then—

A shadow appeared.

But I couldn't stop.

A collision.

My body thrown back.

Breath gone.

Pain bloomed.

Before I could think, a hand gripped my wrist—ice cold.

I looked up.

In the darkness stood a figure I knew too well.

Eyes like obsidian.

Hair long, disheveled, falling past his waist.

Wearing royal armor—dull but heavy.

Cassian.

The prince I'd avoided in-game.

The psychopath I maxed my relationship bar with… and ran from ever since.

He looked at me.

His silence louder than a scream.

"You…" he finally said.

His voice deeper than I imagined, but softer than I expected.

"You're real."

The dragon roared again.

The forest trembled.

Cassian turned his head.

His gaze met the beast's.

And the creature—froze.

Didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

Neither did I.

Cassian turned back to me.

There was something burning in his eyes—not fire, but recognition.

"I've seen you in my dreams," he said.

"Again and again. Same face. Same eyes."

I swallowed.

Sweat slid down my back.

I couldn't speak.

"I kept wondering," he continued.

"Am I imagining it… or did someone put you in my mind?"

Time stopped.

Only my heartbeat remained.

He leaned in.

"What's your name?"

"Elysia, your highness," I said. My voice didn't tremble.

But my world shook.

As soon as he heard my name… he changed.

His eyes. His posture. Even his breathing.

"For the first time," he said, "I felt something.

Whether that's good or bad… I don't know."

His fingers were still on my wrist.

Cold. Firm.

But he didn't let go.

A decision was being made.

And I was trapped between Cassian and the dragon.

Then… he pushed me.

Hard.

No questions.

Straight toward the monster.