Chapter 2 Part 5

 Alexander asked expressionlessly,

“Why?”

The doctor, sweating, placed a jar of ointment on the edge of the bed.

“It’s for the bruising. Apply it regularly—it’ll help.”

He quickly scurried off, leaving Alexander to slowly turn back toward Melissa. His sharp golden gaze dropped to her abdomen, and she could almost feel his touch.

“I didn’t think you’d be up so soon. I heard your ribs were fractured. And there were issues with your internal organs.”

“I’m… I’m pretty tough. I heal fast. This is nothing.”

“May I see?”

He cut her off and gave the jar a light shake.

“You said it’s nothing, didn’t you?”

It was then Melissa realized her attire wasn’t much different from the others’. Though the clothes reached her ankles—probably out of consideration for her unfamiliarity with southern style—her arms were still bare. It was certainly comfortable, but still…

“Just loosen the belt and lift your top a little. Only enough to show your stomach.”

He spoke in the tone of someone coaxing a child.

“So I can apply the ointment properly.”

“I-I can do it myself.” Her voice trembled.

For someone who’d lived as a hostage most her life, she’d thought she was used to handling people. But it was nearly impossible to stay composed before him.

“Can’t I even do this, as your younger brother?”

His tone turned almost disappointed, and Melissa wanted to scream that she’d never had a younger brother like this. If she couldn’t say that out loud, she’d rather faint.

She wondered if she was overreacting and glanced around. The attendants and knights who had followed Alexander in stood with their heads bowed, and even Boris, though close by, didn’t intervene, his face nearly expressionless. Was this kind of thing normal in the South? Even him calling himself her younger brother… The absurdity of the thought clawed at her.

“…Okay.”

In the end, she gave a nod and untied her belt. It was a simple knot and should’ve come undone easily, but her hands trembled, and even that basic motion was difficult. In the silence, only the whisper of cloth brushing against itself filled the air.

“Boris.”

Alexander called in a low voice. With a sigh, Boris turned around. Melissa, having fully loosened the tie, raised her top just enough to expose her abdomen. A bruise bloomed just below her navel—purple fading to yellow. The fabric in her hands trembled as it hung in the air.

Without hesitation, Alexander scooped up a dollop of ointment.

“This won’t do.”

Clearly, dismissing this as simply a southern custom was a stretch. Especially since Alexander wasn’t even from the South. But before she could protest, his hand gently pressed her shoulder down. Her back met the pillow, and his fingers met her stomach.

“Hhn—”

Melissa bit her lip, trying to bear the slick, cold feel of the ointment. She instinctively grabbed his wrist and looked up. Alexander’s face was unreadably indifferent. There was no lust, no indecency—only calm detachment. And yet the act itself was undeniably intimate.

Her thoughts darkened. He was doing this because of that “special power,” wasn’t he?

“Even if you heal quickly, an injury like this isn’t nothing.”

But his words were too gentle for someone so cold. She couldn’t answer. His eyes lifted from her stomach and met hers—so close she couldn’t look away, caught like a rabbit in a snare.

“You’re not meant to just stand there and take it, either.”

The memory that rose instantly was of him stopping Franz from striking her.

Melissa, dazed for a heartbeat, quickly pulled her top down. His hand withdrew.

“What can I possibly do if I don’t let myself be hit?”

Melissa felt a different kind of discomfort from him now.

He kept subtly suggesting other possibilities, as if gently inviting her to try living a different kind of life.

She loved him. She admired him.

But… she didn’t want him.

Because she knew her place.

She had never even imagined such a thing. That’s why this was uncomfortable.

She didn’t believe all the rumors, but she was well aware of how he had ensnared, betrayed, and eliminated the other lords to seize Tavalon—how he used layered operations, close-quarter ambushes, even psychological warfare with dragons.

They had never been close, but she had gathered as much information on his movements as she could.

Right now, Alexander wanted her to use her powers to do something.

But because he wouldn’t clearly say what he wanted, she couldn’t read his true intent.

He was dangerous.

And even more dangerous was how completely defenseless she was in the face of that danger.

As always, she had to rein herself in.

“Should I raise a sword and resist? Or threaten him with my ability to see wraiths?”

His unwavering gaze pierced her like a blade.

Suddenly feeling tears well up, she tensed her expression and spoke firmly,

“I’ll handle my affairs myself. But… thank you for the concern.”

She tightened her belt and straightened her clothes.

Still looking down, focused only on her hands, she had made her stance clear.

The one who shattered that fragile calm was Alexander.

“Whether you choose to ignore me or not, I regret to inform you that you won’t be returning to the capital anytime soon, my lady.”

Melissa’s head snapped up in shock.

He was smiling.

“Your power is tied to dragons. And since you’re not yet formally a part of the Bergritz family, I can’t allow someone with such strength to leave freely.”

“But…”

“Please understand that, given my position, I must enforce this.”

He leaned down and pressed a brief kiss to her cheek.

Her gaze, which had been holding firm as if refusing to yield, began to waver once again. Melissa’s icy blue eyes, once like the cold winds of a snowy mountain, now rippled like waves, as though the slightest gesture might bring her crumbling down—yet she had built higher walls than he’d expected. It seemed that something more than affection for him had taken deep root within her. Perhaps it was her grandfather, Baron Cliff Gallandia, whom she believed would welcome her one day. He considered, briefly, whether killing the baron might be an option—but quickly realized that doing so would paradoxically grant her freedom, and abandoned the idea. Alexander, too, wanted her to come to him by her own will and choice. The emotions Melissa showed toward the baron were more of resolve than yearning, more of determination than hesitation. It was not something he could obtain through force.

He desired her. If a hostage like her, despite her circumstances, were to choose him—then it would not take long for him to reach the end of his plans. After all, love was impulsive and fickle. He wasn’t asking for eternity. He only meant to use it appropriately.

Hiding his venom, he spoke gently.

“It’s a southern-style greeting.”

The sight of the pale woman turning beet red was always amusing. Ah, how absurd love could be.

“Of course, it’s something only close family members do.”

“…Ah, close… um, family…”

The woman who had briefly shown her thorns was now drenched in embarrassment. He extended his arm toward the flustered woman.

“If you’re well enough to move, I’d like to introduce you personally.”

Melissa, unable to refuse, took his arm and stood up. But the moment she did, her stomach let out a loud growl.

From where he stood facing the wall, Boris let out a stifled snort, and Melissa felt as if she might faint from the shame.

“Looks like a meal should come first.”

Alexander, in contrast, spoke without a trace of amusement.

Melissa, her head spinning, gripped his arm tightly.

“Before that!”

Her blue eyes dropped downward. Not just her gaze—her whole body seemed to shrink, as if it might collapse at any moment.

“I want to bathe…”

Between the strands of her lowered silver hair, the tips of her ears glowed red.

Boris, unable to contain himself any longer, burst out in loud laughter while Alexander arched a brow.

“I think you’re fine as you are.”

Melissa glanced up to see if he was joking, but his expression couldn’t have been more serious.

Her hair was a tangled mess after several days without bathing, and more than anything, she just felt unclean.

She shook her head firmly.

“No, not at all. I’m really not fine.”

“Then we’ll wait. Prepare the bath so the lady can wash.”

With that order to the servants, he exited the room.

Only after he disappeared did her tension begin to ease.

Melissa slumped onto the bed, right where he had sat, and buried her face in her hands.

***

The table was full of delicacies she’d never had in the capital.

From finely chopped vegetables wrapped in grape leaves to crisp slices of fried mullet, and even rich, aromatic wine.

At the estate, she’d eaten at the same table as the servants, and meals rarely consisted of more than bread, cheese, and watered-down alcohol.

With so many delicious dishes in front of her, she should’ve been enjoying every bite.

But sitting across from her, Alexander stared openly.

Because of that, she couldn’t even swallow properly.

By now, it had become confusing.

If he wanted her power, shouldn’t he propose a deal or demand conditions? But he hadn’t done either.

Why…

Troubled, she barely finished her meal before following him as he guided her through the estate.

Despite everything, Melissa looked around with excitement.

She wanted to take it all in—this southern land she might never see again.

The servants’ clothing consisted mainly of large, plainly patterned fabrics secured with sashes, with subtle variations in style based on their rank.

The sea breeze that swept in through arched windows tickled her cheeks, making her feel as if she were ankle-deep in the ocean she’d never seen.

The sky was a vivid blue, and the pale earth had the tone of white clay.

And above all—there were the half-dragons.

Half-dragons, said to be born from the scales of true dragons, soared through the sky on massive wings, guarding the stronghold of Tavalon.

They were creatures of savage beauty, with talons like wild beasts and scales like serpents.

It was easy to imagine those great jaws spewing fire, ripping livestock apart with razor-sharp fangs—yet the sight remained no less breathtaking.

Tavalon had once been the most ravaged land, ruined after the war with the elementals.

To purge its monstrous taint and reclaim even a shadow of its former self through dragonfire had taken immense effort.

All of it—every step—was accomplished by Alexander.

She was just realizing that anew when a voice came from behind.

“You seem quite taken with the half-dragons.”

She’d been so absorbed in the view that she’d forgotten his presence entirely.

“I guess it’s because I’ve only ever seen them in illustrations. They’re far more impressive in real life.”

“Even though they’re incomplete creatures? Just half-dragons?”

Half-dragons were indeed flawed beings—more beasts than divine creations like true dragons.

Flying predators, perhaps. Their ferocity made them difficult to control, and not everyone viewed them favorably.

But to her, they were simply magnificent.

Melissa turned back toward the window and spoke, almost to herself.

“No living thing is truly complete on its own.”

“You’re certain of that?” he asked with a scoff.

But lost in the view outside, Melissa didn’t even notice his tone as she smiled faintly.

“I’m sure of it. All life depends on other life to survive.”

“…”

“Humans too. What makes us different is that we’re always seeking something beyond survival—meaning, joy, connection.

And to find that, we search for something… or someone… perfect. Like a god. Or love.”

The blue sky and the shadow of a half-dragon swept across her clear eyes.

Melissa spoke her thoughts with quiet vitality.

“People cling to things like gods or love… and eventually, they start to believe such things truly exist somewhere,” she said. “Which just proves that nothing perfect actually exists. That’s why we living beings are always incomplete—why we’re always imagining, always chasing something absolute to believe in.”

Unaware of the implication herself, Melissa had just declared gods and love to be illusions.

Alexander stared at her, impassive.

Was she serious?

Or just swept up in her own thoughts, speaking nonsense?

Either way, he wasn’t interested in indulging her further.

He hadn’t brought her here to trade philosophies.

“…Huh, they’re eating raw meat—bones and all!”

Just in time, the half-dragon handlers on the wall began tossing meat to their beasts.

Their jaws spread wide, covered in thin membranes, then snapped shut again.

To Melissa, the way they chewed resembled cooing infants—strangely adorable.

“Melissa.”

Alexander stepped forward.

She tried to pull back from the windowsill, but it was too late—his arms had already boxed her in.

The mind that had just been captivated by dragons snapped back to him, entirely.