Chapter 2 Part 1

I knew I might get caught…

From Bright, Melissa could feel an icy fury that was beyond comprehension.

She glanced down.

Scattered at Bright’s feet were all the things Melissa had drawn—

from deer to wild boars, each sketch captured the dynamic movement of animals,

their musculature, detailed designs of firearms and crossbows,

even cross-sections of wing-like machines modeled after birds.

It was a world Melissa had created for herself—

a world built within the confines of her inability to go outside freely.

But Bright trampled that precious world

as if it meant nothing.

Several pages fluttered to the ground,

crumpling beneath her feet.

“I warned you not to end up like your mother.”

Melissa struggled to remain calm,

chanting inwardly that she’d made the right decision.

From the very beginning, this engagement

had been nothing more than Bright subtly pushing her toward betraying someone.

“That man invited both you and Franz, didn’t he?”

Bright spoke into the empty air

as though addressing someone invisible,

nodding to herself.

“Good. This works out better.”

Her tone was barely more than a murmur,

yet she almost seemed gentle.

She reached out and caressed Melissa’s shoulder,

trailing her arm down to her hand

and finally wrapping her fingers softly around the back of her hand.

Melissa nearly screamed.

At some point, a massive egg had appeared in her palm.

Not just any egg—

A dragon’s egg.

Though she’d only ever seen dragons as shadowed silhouettes,

she was intimately familiar with their appearance, reproduction, and history

through books she had devoured.

With its dark gloss and uniformly scaled surface that resembled snakeskin,

this was unmistakably a dragon’s egg.

She hadn’t felt a thing—

no weight, no warmth.

It was as if it had appeared there by magic.

How did Bright get this?

No—how had she placed it in her hands?

Melissa felt a chill creep up her spine.

“Yes. It’s a dragon’s egg.”

As if she could read Melissa’s thoughts, Bright grabbed her wrist and made her stroke the egg.

For something that was supposedly a dragon’s egg—something that should have been warm, as Bright had said—it was unnervingly cold.

Inside, it felt hollow, utterly empty.

Melissa looked down at Bright, eyes trembling.

“What is it that you want?”

“In Tavalon, you’ll find a way to open the gate to the dragons’ world.”

Bright smiled like a gentle mother.

“And then, you’ll kill the dragon.”

Terror-stricken, Melissa violently shook her head.

It was absurd. This wasn’t something a mere hostage could do.

“Madam… I… I can’t. I don’t have the ability.”

“No, you can do it, Melissa. You can open the gate. You can kill it.”

Bright gripped the back of Melissa’s hand so tightly it felt like her fingers would sink into her skin.

A manic gleam flickered in her eyes.

“Or do you not care what happens to your grandfather?”

Suddenly, a pattern inscribed in archaic, arcane script began spreading like a web from where they touched.

Melissa struggled, but she couldn’t break free.

This was sorcery.

“L-Lady Bright!!!”

“Remember this feeling.”

“Please—stop!”

Melissa used all her strength to shove Bright away.

But her hand was already covered in runes—words of a binding spell etched into her flesh.

She rubbed at them desperately, as if she could erase them,

but the glyphs only deepened.

Then, a sigil shaped like a dragon’s eye gleamed brightly on the back of her hand.

A searing pain shot through her entire body.

“Ugh!”

But the blinding light and sharp pain were fleeting.

When she finally came to and lifted her hand,

there wasn’t a single mark.

Outwardly, it looked normal—

but she could still feel something tightly wrapped around her body,

something invisible but deeply, suffocatingly present.

Her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the floor.

Above her, Bright’s cold voice fell like a guillotine.

“If you wish to open the gate to the dragons’ world—if you want to kill the dragon—my spell will help you.”

Bright knelt on one knee before her

and gripped Melissa’s chin, lifting her tear-streaked face.

“Think carefully, dear. This isn’t such a bad thing for you. If this succeeds, Alexander will die and Franz will become the Marquis. You’ll be the Marchioness and bask in all the glory.”

Whether Marchioness or mutt, Melissa would refuse anything that had to do with Franz.

But as long as Bright could wield spells, she would use her grandfather as leverage to control Melissa at will.

Marriage was only the beginning.

Melissa suddenly wondered—was her grandfather also living as if walking on ice, all for the sake of a hostage like her?

Of course he was. He missed her so deeply, as proven by the countless letters he sent.

She couldn’t lose her only family for the sake of a hopeless love.

“Lady Bright.”

Melissa called out to Bright with a trembling voice just as she began to rise.

“If I kill the dragon, promise me my grandfather won’t be harmed.”

The odds were nonexistent. But if—by some miracle—she did manage to kill the dragon, Alexander would surely retaliate.

As Melissa glared at her pitifully, Bright let out a grand laugh.

“If the dragon dies, both Baron Gallandia and your life will be spared. I promise.”

“If my grandfather so much as gets scratched, I’ll kill myself.”

It was a threat she could afford to make. What Bright wanted was Melissa’s power.

And judging by her efforts to keep Melissa married to Franz, she clearly had uses for that power even after the dragon was dead.

“I can’t let that happen, now can I. Wait for my letter in Tavalon.”

Smirking as though Melissa were nothing more than a naive child, Bright exited the room.

Melissa leaned her back against the wall and burst into tears.

With only her own life to wager, she was painfully aware of her powerlessness—and it made her furious.

But all she could do was cry.

***

The day they were to leave for Tavalon, Melissa let out a sigh as she closed the bag she’d packed.

Thanks to Bright, she’d spent half the night lost in thought. She’d woken early to finish packing and was already exhausted.

“Miss Melissa, are you inside?”

It was a voice at the door that broke her thoughts. It sounded familiar—though she couldn’t place it at first—until a lighthearted tone followed:

“It’s Boris.”

Boris? That Sir Boris?

Melissa opened the door hesitantly, still unsure. But sure enough, it was truly Sir Boris.

“Sir Boris!”

“Miss Melissa.”

When Boris spread his arms wide, Melissa bashfully stepped forward and slowly raised her hands to return the hug.

Boris had been the only one who stayed by her side after the old maid died and she was left alone.

Though technically her watchman, he had always treated her kindly—and Melissa couldn’t help but be glad to see him.

He’d left with Alexander for Tavalon years ago, and she hadn’t seen him since.

Now, with the scent of crisp autumn and the faint tang of metal clinging to his embrace, her nose stung with emotion.

As a greeting, Boris placed a quick kiss on the crown of her head.

“You’ve been well, I hope?”

He had clearly grown more solid in body since they last met, his aging face lined with more creases.

His grip on her shoulders was strong—like that of a seasoned knight.

When Melissa flinched at the strength of it, he hastily let go.

“Ah, sorry. You should’ve said something if it hurt.”

“It’s fine. I’m just happy to see you.”

“I’m glad too. But where’s that rascal Franz? He sick or something?”

Franz had reportedly come down with a terrible fever the night before.

They said it was from overexerting himself at the engagement ceremony, but who really knew.

He had told Melissa to go ahead and promised to follow in a few days.

“Tch. Arrogant bastard. If the lord calls, he should be dragging himself there if he has to crawl.

Well, no matter. I’m only here for you, after all.”

Boris picked up her luggage like it was second nature.

“Oh, I can carry it—”

“Mercy, miss. Who would let a young lady carry her own bags? Just say the word.”

Melissa could only smile wordlessly at him, and Boris shook his head in irritation.

“I see now why I was sent here,” he muttered.

“They treat you worse than a dog, but dress everything up nice and polished.

Same rotten bastards as ever.”

Melissa found it strange. Boris, Alexander’s closest aide, shouldn’t have been relegated to something as menial as carrying her bags. Yet before she could protest, Boris was already walking behind her like a servant, letting her lead the way. The treatment was unfamiliar—awkward, even.

Bright had always obsessed over managing Melissa’s outward appearance, but beyond that, she was treated no differently from a common maid.

“I never imagined the two of you would end up like this,” Boris muttered as they arrived at the estate’s front entrance. Well-dressed knights and young squires stood by a carriage prepared just for her.

While Melissa stood stunned, Boris casually tossed her luggage into the storage compartment and continued, “My apprentice was convinced it was a love match, not a political one. Stupid brat doesn’t know a damn thing. Must’ve read too many romance novels.”

He promptly reached behind her and dragged forward a boy who’d been lingering awkwardly nearby. The hazel-haired youth looked no older than sixteen. Shifting his eyes in embarrassment, he clearly couldn’t hide his guilt.

“This one’s Philip. Go on, apologize.”

“…I’m sorry,” the boy said, his broad shoulders and tall frame contrasting oddly with his timid demeanor. To Melissa, he still looked like a child.

“No need to apologize. It’s fine,” she said with a kind smile.

And it really was fine.

To an outsider, her story likely appeared as something out of a novel—a girl held as a hostage falling in love with the master’s son. But most, like Boris, knew better. They saw the engagement as a calculated move by Bright to counter Alexander, attempting to bring the Gallandias under her influence.

Even if they were a traitor’s house, aligning with multiple noble families—especially with Alexander absent from the capital—meant securing greater influence in the social sphere.

“What’s fine about that?” Boris grumbled, clearly irritated by the rumor. His brow furrowed in disapproval. “Make sure to put him in his place. First mission outside the walls, and he’s already making a mess. I gave him a few good smacks to straighten him out.”

Melissa let out a quiet laugh. Startled by her reaction, Boris, who had been pressing down hard on Philip’s crown, widened his eyes and smacked the boy from a different angle.

“Seeing how much you’re enjoying this, I clearly didn’t hit him enough.”

“No, it’s just that… My grandfather used to say the same thing. ‘Give ’em a good scolding.’”

Still smiling, Melissa gently stopped Boris’s hand. His expression froze momentarily before softening as he let out an awkward chuckle.

“You’re still exchanging letters with him, I see.”

“Yes, thanks to you.”

He scratched his head and asked, almost sheepishly,

“Do you really enjoy writing to the Baron of Gallandia that much?”

“Of course.”

“You… don’t resent him?”

The question slipped out, and Boris immediately looked regretful. After all, the Baron had executed his own daughter and sent his granddaughter off as a hostage. It would be only natural for Melissa to harbor some bitterness.

But she shook her head slowly.