Chapter 12
Yuki proceeded to drag him through room after room before finally settling Ando into one of them.
It was a spacious chamber facing the garden, filled with warm sunlight. Gilded sliding panels painted with elegant dragons set it apart at a glance—but there was no mistaking it. This was a suite meant for someone of rank.
“My Lady… I am but a common soldier. Such a chamber is far beyond my station.”
Yuki blinked, caught off guard.
“Huh? You don’t like it? Then how about the room the previous Empress used? It’s right across from mine.”
“That is not my meaning, My Lady!”
Ando spoke in haste, then steadied himself.
“If it please you, might I be granted a smaller room—something more modest?”
“But you’ve just seen my place. They’re all like this.”
She said it so easily that Ando nearly faltered—but he could not yield here.
“It need not be within the palace at all. A townhouse, an inn—anywhere would suffice.”
At that, Ko’s voice came from behind him, calm and measured.
“Mr. Ando.”
There was a trace of amusement in it, though his eyes sharpened just slightly.
“To one entering Dormancy, there is nothing we place higher value on than their safety and well-being.”
He continued, his tone gentle but firm.
“Among our kind, births are exceedingly rare. It may be centuries before a new generation appears. For that reason, we see to it that those in Dormancy are given every care—allowed to pass that time in the safest and most comfortable place we can offer.”
Ko’s faint smile never left him.
“Our quarters are close by. Should anything arise, we can be with you at once. We regret that we cannot provide the room you requested—so you will indulge us, I trust.”
Spoken with such courtesy, there was no refusing him. Ando had no choice but to yield.
Even so, something in his chest refused to settle.
From the moment they met, he had the uneasy sense that the Dracoserpens had been guiding him—step by step—without ever giving him room to resist.
Why was he being treated with such care…?
Ignoring Ando’s confusion, Yuki broke into a bright, barely contained smile.
“You must be tired, so get some rest today. And tomorrow—”
“Yes, My Lady!”
Whatever duty might be set before him, he would see it done. With that resolve, Ando straightened at once, heels together.
But what followed lay far beyond anything he had expected.
“We’re throwing a celebration for your Dormancy. Every Dracoserpens in the country’s coming to the palace—so make friends, all right?”
“…My pardon?”
Unable to make sense of it, he turned instinctively to Ko and Kiba for aid. Ko inclined his head.
“Births among our kind are exceedingly rare. Once in several centuries, if we are fortunate, a new generation appears. When a child is born—or when one enters Dormancy, or awakens from it—we gather from across the land to offer our blessings.”
He continued, measured and assured.
“It also serves as a rare chance for those who live apart to meet. We would ask that you take this opportunity to form bonds with many of our kind.”
Even so, the question pressing at Ando’s heart remained unanswered. This, at least, he could not leave unspoken.
“My Lady… Lord Kiba… Master Ko. You have said that I am not of your kind, but only a near kin—one who bears the blood of the Dracotyrannus. Why, then, do you extend such grace unto me?”
Dracotyrannus and Dracoserpens were not the same. And he—he was said to carry the scales of it who had once sought to bring ruin upon the world.
Even if such tales were hard to believe, if they held any truth—
Then why receive him so?
Why welcome him at all?
Yuki and Kiba exchanged a brief glance. Ko remained silent, listening.
“…Sorry. Did that bother you? Of course it did.”
Yuki asked, her smile faltering.
Kiba spoke, his voice steady.
“Dracotyrannus may not be Dracoserpens—but they are kin. And you are of the next generation we have long awaited. To us, that makes you family.”
Ando lowered his gaze, then slowly shook his head.
“And yet, I am a subject of Imresia—and a soldier of its Royal Guard. I am deeply honored by your kindness… yet my fealty lies with my homeland.”
Even as he spoke, his voice threatened to falter.
King Alexios had called him a weapon. Even within the Guard, he knew well that he was not truly accepted—not even by those under his own command.
His thoughts turned, unbidden, to his elder brother.
It would be all right.
The belongings Antonius had prepared for him—while he lay insensible—had been filled with winter garments, though it was the height of summer. His brother had known.
If that man were to be king—
Then Ando had already sworn that his life, to its final breath, would be given in his service.
And yet—
These dracoserpens, who welcomed him without reserve… this land, so warm and abundant…
He could not accept it.
That was what pained him most.
“I…”
His throat closed.
The chains that had bound his arms had broken with ease. But those that wound tight about his heart would not yield.
“…Even should you show me such grace, I have naught with which to repay it.”
The words fell from him, dry and brittle.
Sunlight flooded the garden. White sand cast back the light, the pond shimmered, and vivid flowers swayed in the distance.
Amid all that color, Ando alone seemed cast in shadow.
Yuki watched him for a moment, then took a single step forward.
But when she saw him stiffen, she stopped.
“Ando… what did you think, traveling with us?”
“…My Lady?”
“Were we a bother? Too familiar? Too big and frightening? Or do you resent us—for taking you away from your homeland?”
“Never, My Lady—such thoughts would not so much as cross my mind.”
Her voice softened.
“Then… did you enjoy it?”
Ando drew a breath, and answered with effort.
“…I found myself wishing that those days might never end. I beg your pardon.”
Yuki smiled.
“So you did have a good time. You felt at ease with us.”
Ando caught his breath. It was as though something within him had been gently laid bare.
“We felt the same,” she said lightly. “Meeting you—being with you—it’s been wonderful for us, too.”
She bent her great form and gently touched her horn to his forehead.
Ando trembled.
“Believe it or not… I think I understand how you feel. Ever since I saw you standing there, letting yourself be bound by those chains.”
He swallowed hard.
If he accepted their kindness, would that not betray the oath he had sworn?
Yuki’s tone dipped slightly.
“If I could, I wouldn’t send you back to that country. It’s not a place where you can live as you are. But… if you truly wish to return—”
Ko inclined his head.
“Neither Dracoserpens nor Dracotyrannus are bound by any master. Not even among our own kind could such dominion be enforced. To return one of our own to that cold land grieves us deeply… yet if that is your will, we shall not stand in your way.”
“Well, we’ll still try to talk you out of it. Maybe win you over.”
“That sounds very much like an attempt at dominion. Be silent. You undo everything.”
Ko cleared his throat, then added with a theatrical sigh.
“This incorrigible one does have quite the fondness for force—and precious little patience for words. A most regrettable failing… one that reflects rather poorly on me, her caretaker.
Yes—her caretaker, I’m afraid.”
“Yeah, yeah—say what you like.”
At that, Ando let out a small, breathless laugh.
Yuki and Ko exchanged quiet smiles of relief. Kiba placed a steady hand on Ando’s shoulder.
“Do not forget this. You may remain here as long as you wish. And whenever you choose… you may return to us.”
His voice was calm. Unwavering.
“Every one of us treasures you.”
Ando caught his breath.
Those eyes had not changed since the day they first met — gentle, steadfast, unbearably kind.
He had never imagined anyone would say such things to him. No conditions. No demands.
Only this:
He was loved here.
Something inside him cracked open.
A single drop struck the floor.
Ando raised a hand to wipe it away, but more followed. His vision kept breaking apart with tears no matter how hard he tried.
He had stood alone upon frozen cliffs beneath merciless storms, fists clenched until blood ran from them.
And now, for the first time—
something gentle reached him.
Warm, carrying the scent of flowers and the sea.
He turned.
White sand. A brilliant blue sea.
Ando could no longer stop the tears.
Yuki, Kiba, and Ko did not laugh.
Kiba’s hand drew him closer without a word. On his other side, Yuki stepped near and wrapped an arm around him as well.
Neither of them let him go.
“First things first—take care of your body. Even during Dormancy, there’s no shortage of things to do when you’re awake. The library, the study halls—use them as you please. If you find anything that might serve your homeland, take it with you. As much as you like.”
Yuki added with a shrug,
“Honestly? Your king’s not exactly someone I’d bet on. But I’ve been thinking—opening ties with Imresia might not be a bad move. We even found a great hot spring. So, if you’re up for it, help us out. Might as well rack up a few favors while they’re still worth something.”
The sheer casualness of it caught Ando off guard, and a laugh slipped out before he could stop it.
He brushed a hand over his face, then drew himself up, heels together, squaring his shoulders as he faced the Dracoserpens once more.
“My deepest thanks, I offer thee. My loyalty is sworn to Imresia. I possess naught but this life of mine—yet I shall strive, with all that I am, to repay the kindness I have received at the hands of the people of Tatsuno.”
Before long, a call came from the kitchens—the midday meal was ready, its rich aroma already drifting through the air.
In the courtyard where the steedraptors had landed, dragons from across the palace had gathered as if by instinct.
Rugs lay scattered over the grass. People dropped down wherever they pleased, passing dishes, trading laughter as the meal began.
Every time Ando managed to offer his thanks, another plate was pressed into his hands. He never had the chance to finish one before the next arrived.
Yuki, completely unfazed by the chef’s murderous glare, reached into a neighboring circle, snatched a dish without ceremony, and moved on to the next as though nothing had happened.
No sooner had the meal wound down than she clapped once.
“Bath’s next!”
The crowd surged toward the great bath in an instant.
That day, for the first time in his life, Ando floated.
“Relax. You won’t sink.”
With Azu steadying him, he cautiously let himself lean back—and felt the water take his weight, holding him up just as she’d said.
He barely had time to marvel at it before a great splash—Yuki’s doing—struck him full in the face.
Tien’s laughter rang out, bright and unrestrained.
“Make sure you keep drinking,” Wani said, moving among them as the others splashed and laughed, keeping a careful watch so no one overheated, and refilling their water again and again.
By the time he realized it, the bath was packed, the noise and energy no different from the feast before.
Kiba appeared more than once, delivering the same low, unyielding command.
“That’s enough. Out.”
No one listened.
At last, Ko arrived, sounding faintly exasperated.
“Honestly, you lot… must you soak there without end? It is already time for supper—will you not eat, then?”
That did it. Everyone paused, exchanging looks.
—They were hungry again.
Ando had to admit they’d overdone it—but Azu just gave his shoulder a firm pat.
“I’ll teach you how to dive deeper tomorrow.”
That night—
He still couldn’t quite grow accustomed to the chamber. It wasn’t only its size—the very dignity of the place lay far beyond anything meant for someone of his standing.
Yet the sea filled it.
Its scent drifted in through the open screens, and the slow rise and fall of the waves carried faintly from afar. A warm breeze moved through the garden and into the room, brushing lightly across his scales.
And then there was the bedding. It had been laid directly upon the floor—layer upon layer of thick quilts and padding, arranged with meticulous care.
He had slept on such bedding the night before in Hokurin, and even that had been remarkably comfortable. But this was something else entirely.
When he lowered himself onto it, it yielded at once—deep, weightless, almost like sinking into a cloud—yet firm enough to hold him steady. The fabric brushed smoothly against his scales, carrying a gentle warmth.
The moment he closed his eyes, sleep claimed him at once.
