Chapter 1
Prologue
“L–Lady Iola?”
“Shh. Keep your voice down—they’ll hear us.”
In the dead of night, a man in light sleepwear barged into the private room of a lady staying alone at an inn.
Iola climbed onto the bed and lowered himself over her, hands pressed against the sheets. Beneath him, Viretta clutched her cheeks with both hands, covering her mouth in alarm.
It was a position far too bold—enough to make her chest tighten.
“I came because I have something to tell you,” Iola whispered. “Now that we’ve finally made it this far, I’m a little emotional.”
Outside the inn loomed the dragon’s lair—an abandoned mine, feared by all.
A single flap of its wings could bring down a village; a sigh could dry up a lake.
“To think we actually made it here, just the five of us. It’s an honor to take on what everyone else avoids—with you, Lady Viretta.”
“O–Of course. It’s our mine, after all. It’s only natural I handle it.”
Viretta Medlit, second daughter of the Medlit Trading House, turned red to her ears and curled up nervously.
From where she lay, looking up at Iola’s face, he looked almost sculpted—refined and noble.
“At last, the day to slay the dragon is almost upon us. The long nights, the thorny road—we’re nearly at the end.”
“Haven’t you always slept a full eight hours, though? I thought your health was one of your charms.”
“…That’s the kind of thing a normal person would say! Difficult as it’s been, every bright, thrilling, heart-pounding moment of this adventure has been worth it. Let’s slay the dragon and set everything right.”
Viretta, who had been pretending to sound pitiful to earn some sympathy, quickly changed tune at his words. Iola laughed at her sudden about-face.
“That cheerful spirit of yours always gives me strength.”
“Of course it does. Without cheer and good health, I’d be a corpse.”
“Hardly. You’ve plenty of other virtues. Without you, we’d never have come this far.”
Iola slowly rose from above her, offered his hand, and helped Viretta up from the bed.
Then, stepping down, he knelt on one knee. Even dressed casually, without sword or armor, he looked every bit the knight.
“My dear Lady Viretta, I must tell you something. We can’t know what tomorrow holds, so I’ll say it now.”
“Wait… are you confessing to me?”
“Yes. You could call it that.”
Viretta’s eyes widened.
Iola—the perfect gentleman, well-bred, charming, and talented—was confessing to her, alone, in the middle of the night.
“You’re wiser than I could ever hope to be.”
That wasn’t true.
Viretta wasn’t foolish, but Iola was a prodigy—someone pursuing five degrees and dissertations at once. There was no universe where she could call herself wiser.
“You’re brave, too. Brave enough to join a dragon hunt that even mercenary captains turned down.”
That wasn’t quite right either. She hadn’t realized just how terrifying dragons were—until it was far too late.
“You’re generous enough to invest your hard-earned money in this cause.”
She had, in fact, stolen that money from her father.
“And you had the resolve to lead us all here.”
And so, the five of them now stood on the brink of the dragon’s maw.
“I was happy to be your fiancé, even if only for a little while.”
Her fiancé’s eyes sparkled with pure sincerity.
He genuinely looked delighted—delighted to be facing a dragon with only five people by his side. He truly trusted her.
Come to think of it, he had always been that way—from the very first day they met.
“It’s all thanks to you, Iola.”
It was his unwavering faith in her that had pushed Viretta into this ridiculous, suicidal mission. The result was dangerously uncertain, and that made it all the more bittersweet.
Iola, every inch the gallant knight, took her hand and kissed it.
“There’s only one way I can repay your love and faith.”
He gazed up at her, eyes full of warmth and devotion.
“There’s really no need,” Viretta said quickly.
She already knew what he was about to say.
For the sake of her fiancé’s trust, she had stolen her father’s fortune, crossed mountains and rivers, and come to hunt a dragon.
Given all that, there was only one thing a man like him could possibly say now.
“To break off our engagement with honor—I will slay the dragon myself!”
Iola declared it proudly, with all the confidence and passion in the world. It was his tenth such dramatic “break-up speech.”
“There’s really no need for that…” Viretta muttered sadly, like a parrot doomed to repeat the same miserable line over and over.
“I can’t allow you to be tied to a disaster like marriage to me.”
“Well, life needs a little unpredictability to stay fun.”
“No. I’ll oppose my family itself if I must. You deserve a life untainted by regret.”
“You… don’t actually dislike me, do you?”
“On the contrary—I adore you. That’s why I must risk my life slaying a dragon to call off our engagement.”
His resolve was admirable—but oh, how tragic the result.
It was hardly what one expected from a man sneaking into his fiancée’s room at night.
Utter nonsense, irrational logic—but for them, nonsense was normal.
Because when you’re on a deranged quest to slay a dragon just to break off an engagement, reason doesn’t apply.
And the reason they’d come to walk this ridiculous path was, in truth, quite simple:
“For the one I love, I’d even hunt a dragon!”
It had all started with that one boast.
Prelude
Five days remained until Viretta Medlit’s engagement ceremony—the second daughter of the great merchant Medlit.
It was a typical arranged marriage between two powerful houses.
Viretta folded her arms and snorted.
“He must be at least ten years older than me.”
“He’s your age,” her father, Kadlen Medlit, replied, stroking his beard.
“Then he must look ten years older. Probably dull and plain—someone no woman would look at twice.”
“I heard he’s a fine young man.”
“Oh, please. Everyone thinks that about their own child. I’m sure you’ve called me a ‘stunning beauty,’ too.”
She flicked her soft, barley-colored curls as her father grimaced at her attitude.
“You don’t have to sugarcoat it, Father. I’m prepared. I’ll marry some stranger for the sake of your business ambitions—my tragic, loveless marriage.”
“How many times must I say it? He’s a good man. Even your sister praised him.”
“She only looks at credentials. A man who accepts an arranged marriage without meeting his bride or exchanging even a letter doesn’t strike me as the affectionate type.”
Viretta’s complaints went on endlessly—but there was no real sorrow in her tone.
It all sounded rehearsed, like a performance.
Her father, seeing through the act, finally sighed. “He’ll be here tomorrow. You’ll see for yourself.”
“Then the sky will probably darken in mourning.”
Hand over her heart, Viretta looked out the window dramatically—only to see a sky perfectly clear and bright.
A beautiful day. Not even a hint of impending tragedy.
“If you’ve nothing else to do, get some sleep,” Kadlen said. “You’ll meet your fiancé sooner that way.”
Five days until the ceremony. The fiancé and his father would arrive tomorrow.
And then, two months of endless speculation about Viretta’s fiancé would finally come to an end.
Tomorrow. At last.
“Father, you’re so heartless! To your only daughter!”
With that, she stormed out, brushing past the servants and leaping out into the garden.
“Be back before dinner,” a maid called lazily after her.
* * *
“And so,” Viretta sighed dramatically, “because of my father’s ambitions and the politics of adults, I’ve become the victim of a loveless marriage.”
“That’s terrible. No wonder you looked so sad,” said the young traveler beside her.
They stood on a quiet street, just beyond the bustle of the main square—a lady and a stranger deep in conversation.
The lady was Viretta Medlit, the soon-to-be bride. The man, a young traveler.
“Yes. Thank you for your sympathy,” Viretta said graciously.
He had found her sitting forlornly on the street and asked if she was all right. Grateful for the attention, Viretta had poured out all her grievances.
“Is that why you call your father ‘Father dear,’ as though he were someone else’s?”
“Something like that,” she said vaguely.
In truth, it was just a habit she picked up from a letter-writing manual that said calling one’s father formally was more refined.
“A loveless marriage—hard to believe in this day and age.”
“He could still turn out to be a good man,” he offered.
Viretta shook her head, grabbing his wrist as she looked up at him with fierce conviction.
“Would that matter? Could you live without love?”
“Well, perhaps it’s not the right time to say this,” he began carefully, “but to me, marriage is a union of families and a pledge between two people. With resolve, even without passion, one can build a good life.”
“That’s not living,” Viretta declared. “People need love. Without true love, even wealth and power mean nothing.”
Of course, she’d never been in love. Not once in her twenty-three years—not even a proper crush.
But the man didn’t know that. He simply listened in awe.
“Do you really think love is that powerful?”
“Of course. Think of the knight who turned down gold and a princess’s hand from the king—just to return home to his beloved. That’s love. That’s what makes life worth living.”
Her eyes sparkled as she clasped her hands dreamily.
The young man’s eyes widened. “Then what will you do?”
“Do?”
“If you can’t live without love, but you’re being forced to marry—will you defy them?”
“Exactly. For true love, I’d do anything.”
“Anything?”
His expression lit up with admiration.
Viretta’s pride soared. “Of course! I’d defy my father’s expectations, flee to a faraway land with nothing but the clothes on my back. Love matters more than money or status.”
In truth, she was just thrilled to finally have an audience.
For two months, everyone in town had grown sick of hearing about her engagement. This man was the first in ages to actually listen—and such a handsome listener at that.
“For love, you’d even face hardship, then?”
“With unwavering resolve! For the one I love, I’d even slay a dragon!”
Today was her last day of freedom. Tomorrow, her fiancé would arrive, and that freedom would vanish forever.
Simply put, Viretta Medlit—the Medlit family’s second daughter—was a hopeless braggart.
She turned ordinary matters into melodrama, fear into legend, and fantasy into “true love.”
Everyone in town knew it. Everyone except the young man before her.
“You’d slay a dragon?” he breathed, eyes shining.
“Yes,” Viretta said proudly. “I’m not one to speak empty words.”
Of course, that was exactly what they were—empty words.
Any sensible person would have known she was exaggerating.
But the young man was not just any sensible person.
He was the exception.
The next morning, Viretta entered her father’s sitting room in high spirits.
The young man’s admiration still echoed in her ears, and she felt lighter than she had in weeks.
She wasn’t worried about meeting her fiancé anymore.
If he turned out unpleasant, she could always act like the tragic heroine. If he was decent—well, even better.
Her father waved her over. “Ah, Viretta, there you are. Our guests have arrived. This is my second daughter, Viretta.”
She turned—and froze.
Across from her sat two men: one older, one young and sharp-featured.
The youth’s hair was a rich brown, short at the sides but longer on top—a foreign style. His green eyes glinted as he smiled.
Polished, composed, strikingly handsome.
And unmistakably familiar.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” he said brightly. “Fancy meeting you here!”
The very same man she’d met yesterday—the one she’d impressed with her speech about true love—was her fiancé.
