Chapter 35: Alan’s Preference
Alan carried a certain troublemaking dragon vine back into the room. Lart’s disapproving gaze fell heavily on him, weighty as if it were tangible, but Alan didn’t pay it any mind.
That’s right, Little Green may have lost control earlier, but now it was undeniably pitiable.
At this moment, the dragon vine no longer showed any trace of the fearsome presence it had not long ago.
When held in his hands, the entire vine drooped limply, and even the leaves’ color had changed from their previous bright emerald to a murky brownish-green.
Its petals contracted, hiding the menacing mouthparts, twitching only slightly when Alan moved. From the gaps in the petals, a few drops of crystal-clear viscous liquid fell…
It didn’t look like venom; it was more like mucus caught mid-sob, unable to be sucked back in.
After returning to his room, Alan reluctantly stuffed the dragon vine back into the jewelry box it had been living in. Honestly, with Little Green’s current size, the space inside the box was a bit cramped.
It might also have been because Little Green itself resisted going back. The lifeless vine, when being shoved inside, extended a few thin leaves to cling to the edge of the jewelry box, its flower head drooping as transparent liquid dripped steadily outside.
Under normal circumstances, seeing Little Green like this, Alan would probably have patiently found it a more comfortable container. But now, with Lart’s gaze—sharp as if it had substance—pricking at him like a thorn in his back, the black-haired country mage let out a deep sigh toward Little Green. Then, he pinched the vine’s soft, floppy leaves and forcibly shoved it back into the gaps of the jewelry box.
“You… you should reflect properly as well. You’ve been way too disobedient today.”
He said this to Little Green without any particular inflection.
The dragon vine paused in its movements… and a few seconds later, its color fully faded to brown. Ignoring the cramped confines of the jewelry box, it drew its entire body back inside.
Plop.
It even used one thin tendril to “lock” the jewelry box in place.
Alan: “……”
Turning back, Alan took a deep breath.
“Alright, Lart, I think we can have a proper talk now.”
He said this to the man whose expression remained grim.
If transmigrating really had granted Alan any kind of “cheat” or special ability… it would probably be that, as a flesh-and-blood crossover, he was immune to all magic in this world that acted directly on the soul.
Alan realized this very clearly the moment he first came into contact with the “magic” of this world.
This awareness didn’t come from exploring the magical system itself so much as from a direct perception that acted on his soul.
Back when he was still in the mercenary squad, his teammates would always worry about soul-based magical traps that might be triggered during missions (indeed, those traps were always the most dangerous for mages with keen spiritual awareness). Alan guessed that every time he emerged unscathed from one of those extremely tricky soul-based formations, his teammates would silently label him with something like “unfathomable.”
What annoyed him was that whenever he tried to explain, some special “rule,” perceptible only to him, would ingeniously prevent him from revealing even a shred of information about being a transmigrator to the locals of this world.
In the end, he could only helplessly accept the label of being “extremely insensitive to soul-based magic”—but unfortunately, even with this label, he still couldn’t convince Lart in this very moment.
“…Alan, you are seriously underestimating the power of dragons.”
Lart stared at Alan intently, repeating the words.
“Veles is my elder brother, but at the same time, he is inevitably going to become a demonic dragon in the future. No one understands this better than I do.”
After being hit by Alan’s water ball spell, the former crown prince seemed slightly calmer than at first.
But it was only slightly.
“Ah? Wait… you… you and Mr. Veles are—”
Alan’s eyes widened in shock.
“Yes. We are brothers.”
Lart studied Alan’s reaction.
Perhaps now, after confessing this, Alan would finally grasp the seriousness of the situation, he thought.
Sure enough, Alan’s gaze sharpened at that moment—something that made Lart unconsciously exhale a small sigh of relief.
But the next moment, he heard Alan ask anxiously, “Then you must know how Mr. Veles is now? Is he alright? Oh my god, I’ve been so worried. The Blood Moon must be incredibly hard on him…”
Ah.
The breath Lart hadn’t yet released stiffened in his chest.
He still maintained his view: his beloved Alan had indeed had his mind twisted by the dragon’s magic.
And the symptoms were very, very severe.
“Oh, Alan… you still don’t understand…”
After a long pause, Lart finally spoke again, his voice unusually dry.
Alan could see that as he spoke, the man’s jaw muscles tensed, and faint veins bulged along his neck.
“Before the dragon slayer Victor was captured by that monstrous dragon, he was not only a great swordsman but also the continent’s foremost Archmage of the era! His power was such that even the still-living twin dark gods at the time regarded him with caution—”
Lart recalled the records he had seen in texts accessible only to royalty, and his heart contracted, feeling like a heavy, cold stone lodged between his ribs.
“However, no matter how powerful Victor was, he still could not escape the magic that twisted the soul when the evil dragon Ognigen fell in love with him.”
As the words fell, Lart’s gaze fixed on Alan, and the rest of the sentence didn’t need to be spoken aloud.
Yes, Alan did indeed have high resistance to various mind and soul magics, but even a talented rural mage could never surpass the Archmage Victor of that era.
If even Victor could not escape the dragon’s “capture,” then naturally, neither could Alan.
“The situation is extremely urgent. No one can predict what the already-corrupted demonic dragons will do to the lovers… or prey they have captured. Even the uncorrupted silver dragon Ognigen was capable of driving a righteous and wise king to madness, forcing him to bear offspring in a man’s body. And now, their souls have long since fallen into darkness; every desire has been twisted…”
A metallic tang of blood rose faintly in Lart’s throat.
He stared at Alan, and a sudden, intense urge surged from deep within him.
Perhaps he should lock Alan away.
It was as if a voice whispered in his ear:
Otherwise, this poor, innocent soul will inevitably be seduced by Veles’ corrupt desires and eventually fall into the abyss of darkness.
And right now, only he—Lart of Alfield—could protect Alan.
He could not bear to lose Alan even once more.
…
Alan had to admit, he felt a slight shiver running down his spine under Lart’s gaze.
“Ahem, um—”
The mage’s lips moved slightly, but after a long while, he still couldn’t find the right words to defend himself.
He couldn’t tell anyone about being a transmigrator, and it was nearly impossible to explain to the native inhabitants of this magic-ravaged continent his little “preference” for scaly, armored creatures.
And if he were to call it… profaning…
At this moment, Alan very inappropriately thought of the dream he had had before.
That dream, filled with wetness, saliva, tongues, scales, heat, and pleasure.
A sudden flush of heat rose to his cheeks. He lowered his gaze awkwardly and swallowed hard.
Veles could never possibly have twisted his mind.
It was he himself who had formed those absurdly filthy, shameless fantasies about Mr. Veles—ahhhhhh—
Alan let out a silent scream in his heart.
