TuxedoTranslations

Chapter 67

Seeing his brother’s face, Albin felt a sudden rush of disbelief after the initial joy.

He murmured dreamily, as if in a trance: “How could brother be here?”

Not just here—his brother shouldn’t even exist in this otherworld at all.

To look especially pitiful today, he had purposely dressed lightly, without a scarf around his neck. That chilling draft brushed against his skin, jolting him awake.

He whipped his head toward Zeman.

Was this an illusion cast by Father?

He didn’t know of any magic capable of such realism, of recreating his dearest kin so perfectly—but he believed only magic could conjure such a dreamlike scene.

Yet his doubtful, stunned gaze was blocked by his brother’s frail back.

“Xiaobai, it’s me.” Moon switched places with him, shielding him firmly behind.

Albin froze, then suddenly hugged Moon tightly from behind.

“Brother…” Overwhelming joy drowned him, and he asked timidly, “Are you really my brother? Am I dreaming again?”

Otherwise, how else could he see his brother dressed this way again?

Maybe Father had already knocked him out, and this was just a dream.

That would explain why Father had been saying such outrageous things.

It all made sense that way.

“It’s not a dream. We’ll talk about me later. For now—stay away from him.” Moon stressed again.

He said this both to Albin and to Zeman.

His violet eyes glinted with killing intent as they swept over the chains binding Zeman. He did not relax his guard; his murderous aura condensed into something tangible, like countless invisible needles piercing Zeman.

He knew well those chains could never truly hold Zeman.

He desperately wanted to kill the man who had murdered his little brother—but then he turned slightly, lowering his head to glance at Albin beside him.

He couldn’t strike in front of his brother.

Moon forced down the roiling bloodlust.

“Xiaobai, I’ll take you away from here.” His tone made it sound as though Albin were the one imprisoned.

Albin hesitated and shook his head. “I haven’t asked Father why he wanted to kill me yet. If we leave, we have to take him too.”

Dream or not, he didn’t want to abandon his father.

“He’ll kill you.”

“It must be a misunderstanding, right? How could Father possibly kill me?” Albin brushed it off.

“No.” Moon shed his usual careless manner and looked down at Zeman coldly. “He really did kill you.”

Albin froze, turning to Zeman.

Zeman closed his eyes calmly. Bound head to toe in chains, he sat there without resisting—like a criminal awaiting judgment, silently accepting Albin’s verdict.

His composure stirred both Albin’s anger and unease.

“Brother, you know why, don’t you?”

Moon answered firmly: “I know. Probably more than he does.”

“Then… could you knock Father out and take him back first?”

This inn wasn’t where Albin had been staying. Edward, Padma, and Jadeite weren’t here. Clearly, they couldn’t remain in this place for long.

Zeman’s eyes snapped open in shock.

Albin apologized sheepishly: “Sorry, Father. Before I understand everything, I don’t want you escaping midway, or saying more outrageous things.”

This had to be important. He needed to hear the whole story first, then think carefully about how to persuade Father.

If Father ran away while he wasn’t paying attention, it would be a disaster. If ordinary means had worked, it wouldn’t have come to this. In the end, knocking him out and bringing him back was the most reliable option.

“If you’re angry about it…” Albin whispered, “you can spank me later. As many times as you want.”

…Again?

At those words, Moon’s deathly gaze fell on Zeman once more. Without hesitation, he cast a sleep spell to knock Zeman unconscious.

Zeman did not resist, though he could have.

He was afraid of seeing terror in Albin’s eyes directed at him.

So he chose sleep as his final escape.

In his dreams, Zeman once again saw the [white-haired boy].

As before, the boy often came to the [dragon]’s lair, and they had long grown familiar with each other.

This time, braving the snowstorm, the [white-haired boy] arrived carrying a pot.

【What’s in there?】 asked the [dragon].

The boy chuckled, lighting a fire to heat the pot’s contents.

Soon, the smell of spices and beef filled the cave.

“It’s a birthday present for Mr. Dragon!”

He lifted the wooden lid, revealing sour-fruit-braised veal—the very dish the [dragon] had once mentioned.

【Birthday?】

The boy smiled. “Since Mr. Dragon doesn’t remember his birthday, why not celebrate today instead?”

【Do as you please.】 The [dragon] lazily raised his eyelids. He had nothing else to do, so he let the boy play around.

To come here in this weather—just for that?

The boy clambered all over him, directing him to rise and lower, decorating the cave enthusiastically.

Though it was just the two of them, the place somehow felt lively.

After a while, the veal was ready. The boy asked: “Mr. Dragon, can you transform into human form? This portion isn’t nearly enough for you like this.”

Worried he might be reluctant, the boy quickly added: “I can step outside for a while. Eat first, then change back, and I’ll return.”

【No need.】 The [dragon] stopped him. A vast magic circle appeared beneath him, and in the blink of an eye he transformed into a white-haired, red-eyed man.

Eight years had passed since the disappearance of Sun Temple’s saint, Zeman. Stretching his arms, he peeked through his fingers at the boy’s delighted expression.

It was his first time looking at the boy from this angle.

At sixteen, the white-haired boy seemed far too fragile compared to his peers, as if he could snap at any moment. How had he managed to trek through the snow to come here?

But the ever-curious boy showed no surprise at his human form, nor did he remark on the resemblance to “Zeman.”

The [dragon] realized—this whole time, the boy had never asked his name, almost as if deliberately avoiding it.

The boy only teased: “Mr. Dragon also has white hair and red eyes. If you went outside, people might think we’re father and son.”

To the boy, his current self wasn’t the hero “Zeman,” only “Mr. Dragon’s” human guise.

The [dragon] picked up the veal served to him. He normally had little interest in food, but the first bite stunned him.

The meat was tender, fragrant with spices, laced with faint wine and fruit acidity, and a hint of heat that warmed his once-cold body.

Pepper… no, not pepper, but cardamom—a common substitute for the expensive spice.

Perhaps it was simply too long since he’d eaten in human form, but this dish tasted strangely familiar. Different from the flavors of the temple… closer to something he’d once eaten in the distant past.

“I learned the recipe while passing through the Lily of the Valley Kingdom~” the boy said with a grin. “Happy birthday, Mr. Dragon.”

That was Zeman’s homeland. The [dragon] recalled that he’d craved this dish on his birthday because his parents used to make it for him as a child.

And the boy’s recipe—carried the flavor of his childhood and homeland.

“Thank you.”

“And here’s my specialty—apple pie!” The boy cheerfully produced a pie from his basket to share.

Afterward, full and content, the boy lay comfortably on the cushion, encircled by the [dragon]’s tail.

Eyes sparkling, he asked: “Can I celebrate your birthday again next year?”

【Yes.】 The word slipped out. Not wanting to sound too eager, the [dragon] added, 【Even if I said no, you’d still come.】

The boy stuck out his tongue and winked. “Exactly.”

As a trade, the [dragon] said: 【Then you must come here on your birthday too.】

That damned rat didn’t deserve him. At least he wouldn’t let the boy down.

Thinking of the boy’s worthless father filled the [dragon] with irritation.

So they made a pact.

The boy stayed until the storm passed. Before leaving, he waved goodbye.

“I heard there are more and more berserk monsters lately. Please be careful at home alone, Mr. Dragon.”

【Telling me to be careful?】 The [dragon] narrowed his eyes. Did this boy not understand his power?

“No matter how strong you are, I’ll still worry about you.”

【Hmph. You should be the one careful.】

“I’ll be fine!” The boy lifted his hand confidently.

The [dragon] scowled, recalling the power in the boy’s blood.

“I’m off. I’ll keep searching for the legendary Godslaying Spear—and when I find it, you’ll agree to join us.”

Only when the boy mentioned it did the [dragon] remember their original deal.

Watching him vanish into the distance, the [dragon] muttered: 【Forget it. Next time he comes, I’ll join him—whether he finds it or not.】

Godslaying was no easy feat. If the temple discovered it, the boy would be in grave danger.

Better to stay close, to watch over him.

The [dragon] lay down, settling into another long wait.

But this time, no matter how long he waited, the boy never returned.

Dust gathered on the furniture. Irritated, the [dragon] blew it away, cleaning the cave.

But unease gnawed at his heart.

Why hadn’t the boy come for so long?

Finally, footsteps sounded outside. The [dragon] snapped his eyes open, only to see a pink-haired man in a butler’s uniform.

It was the fox.

【Where is he?】 asked the [dragon].

The fox’s expression was grim. “Albin’s been taken and hidden by the Rat. That rat is a master of hiding. We’ve wanted him dead for a long time, but he’s always slipped away. Will you join us to rescue him?”

The [dragon] agreed without hesitation.

The [white-haired boy] sat in a strange, lightless room, gazing at the bracelet on his left wrist with a troubled expression.

It was the Godslayer Spear he had recently found, now transformed into a bracelet that he wore.

He had wanted to tell Dragon Sir the good news, but his father had dragged him back home, and now he had no idea where he was.

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to see Dragon Sir again… hopefully Father will calm down soon.”

At mealtime, a brown-haired man in a mouse-gray robe walked in.

“Father!” The [white-haired boy] obediently greeted him.

The long-haired brown-haired man looked at him coldly, making his heart tremble.

“Do you admit your mistake?”

The boy’s gaze darted about uneasily.

Seeing this disobedient look, the brown-haired man changed his tone, speaking with solemn concern:

“Albin, you’re inexperienced. Sneaking outside will only make you easy prey for those people to use.”

He leaned closer, his fingers combing through the boy’s hair as though gripping his head.

The [white-haired boy] couldn’t help but protest:

“They weren’t using me. I was the one who asked them for help—to save the monsters.”

The man’s eyes hardened at his rebuttal.

“Save the monsters? Do you know how many monsters lost control, how many people died, because you ran away? Look at what you’ve done!”

The boy froze, murmuring: “It’s all because of me?”

“If those people you know truly wanted to save the monsters, they would have sent you back long ago.”

He sighed, his voice softening:

“Thinking of you being exploited outside without realizing it, as your father, I worry and blame myself. I’ve given you everything you wanted, let you live in a splendid manor, and protected you from the world’s greed… and yet, you…”

“I know it’s painful, being injured and bled so often. You’re my child—your suffering hurts me no less than it hurts you. But to save the monsters, I had no choice but to make you do this.”

Even though he didn’t believe Padma and the others were using him, hearing this filled the boy with guilt.

“I’m sorry, Father. It’s all my fault.”

The man’s expression grew cold again.

“You’ll stay here and reflect on yourself for now.”

“Yes.” The boy lowered his head.

“There are too many monsters out of control lately. To save them, we’ll need more blood.”

“I understand.” The boy quickly cut open his arm, releasing far more blood than usual.

Satisfied, the brown-haired man left.

In the days that followed, Albin continued to have large amounts of blood drawn.

His body grew cold, his mind foggy, until he lost all sense of time.

One day, the man entered again, hesitant.

“Albin, my child…” He stroked the boy’s pale cheek. “I’m sorry for what I said to you last time.”

The boy shook his head. “Don’t blame yourself, Father. It was my fault.”

“But I was at fault too,” the man said with remorse. “I was protecting you, yes, but I’ve also kept you locked away, ignoring your feelings.”

The boy stared at him in surprise.

“As for your friends…” He paused. “Not all of them are wicked.”

The boy lit up. “That’s right—they’re all good people!”

The man smiled kindly. “I won’t stop you from seeing them anymore.”

The boy’s eyes shone. “Really? I can go see them?”

“Of course.” The man gently produced a box. Inside was a necklace strung with a black crystal. “This is my apology gift.”

Without giving him a choice, he fastened it around Albin’s neck himself.

The boy admired the crystal happily, then, by habit, picked up a dagger to offer his blood in return.

But the man stopped him, shaking his head.

“No need.”

For the first time being refused, the boy grew uneasy.

“Why? Father, do you not want me anymore?”

The man embraced him, stroking his hair.

“Of course not. You’ll always be my child. But I’ve heard your [dragon] friend has lost control. Only you can save him now.”

“Dragon Sir has lost control?” The boy clutched at his clothes nervously. “Where is he?”

The man smiled faintly. “I’ll take you to him.”

By carriage, they soon reached their destination.

Before him lay a hellish scene.

The silver-white [dragon] was wreathed in terrifying white flames and black miasma, annihilating everything around him. The entire city was engulfed in fire, walls and barriers crumbling like paper before his might.

And still, the berserk [dragon] did not stop. His eyes were filled with destruction and madness, preparing to spread further.

“I have to stop Dragon Sir quickly!” The boy bit his lip, heart pounding.

But the searing waves and the dragon’s aura kept the horses from advancing. He had no choice but to go on foot.

Weakened from constant blood loss, his steps were unsteady, but he pressed forward toward the heart of disaster.

When he was close enough, he slashed a long wound on his arm, shaping the blood into a sphere with magic and casting it into the dragon’s mouth.

He watched anxiously. Moments later, the [dragon] halted, the black starry gleam in his crimson eyes fading back to normal.

The boy exhaled in relief and rushed forward.

“Dragon Sir!”

He stroked the dragon’s jaw. “Thank goodness, you’re back.”

The dragon’s awareness returned. He immediately saw the boy’s bleeding arm, and the city burning behind him.

His pupils shrank sharply—he realized what had happened.

【Wait…】

He hadn’t even finished speaking before the boy noticed the crimson glow spreading again in the dragon’s starry eyes.

The boy’s head slammed against the ground. Blood gushed from his lips as he looked down in disbelief.

The dragon’s claw—usually so restrained and careful around him—had pierced his body, nailing him to the earth.

“Dragon… Sir…?” His trembling voice called out.

Agonizing pain coursed through him, but he couldn’t understand why.

Why?

He had already broken Dragon Sir’s berserk state…

He had dealt with many monsters—he could not have been mistaken.

His gaze fell suddenly on the black crystal necklace.

The pendant glowed with an ominous aura, its color shifting to chaos, lifting slightly into the air.

His thoughts froze.

It was Father…

He went rigid, unable to move.

—It was Father who wanted him dead.

The realization was like falling into an ice pit. All strength drained from his body, the light dimming from his eyes as tears slipped down his cheeks.

He looked up at the tormented [dragon], and from his wound, blood surged forth under his magic, flowing into the dragon.

The silver scales were stained crimson.

The Godslayer Spear shattered the black crystal pendant, locking onto the bloodied claw.

Blood bubbled from his lips as he whispered, voice faint as a dying flame:

“I’m sorry… Dragon Sir…”

—Sorry, I’ll have to break our birthday promise.

—Sorry, I’ve stained you with my blood.

His consciousness grew dim, pain dragging him deeper into the abyss.

“Albin——!!”

Faintly, he thought he heard someone call his name, but the ringing in his ears made it impossible to tell who it was.

His pale face was finally tinged with red. Through darkened vision and roaring static, he saw the dragon trembling, felt the surge of warm magic desperately trying to flood into his frozen body.

Dragon Sir…

He slowly closed his eyes. In the very last moment, with lingering regret, one thought flickered in his mind:

—If only, on that day, the one who had become my father was you, Zeman.

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