IVAGHD 04

Chapter 4

The phrase “I’d even slay a dragon for you” was an idiom—one of those poetic expressions you’d find in chivalric tales or plays, like “I’d pluck the stars from the sky for your sake.”
A way to express the depth of one’s heart by promising the impossible.

And sure, idioms may differ from one culture to another, but dragons? Dragons are universally terrifying.
No sane person—foreign or not—would take that literally.

She hadn’t exactly marched into a blacksmith’s shop demanding, “Forge me a sword! I’m off to slay a dragon!”

In context, it was obviously an exaggeration—a bit of flourish, nothing more.

“Of course,” Iola said earnestly. “I was deeply moved. And ashamed of my own immaturity. I truly regret standing in the way of your love.”

Yet somehow, impossibly, he believed it.

He, and he alone, took her flowery speech at face value—every word.

“You really don’t have to feel bad,” Viretta said quickly. “It’s not your fault, and I’m… a generous person.”

Because there wasn’t even a real love to begin with.

What she meant was, Let’s just move forward with the engagement already.
But before she could say that, Iola placed his hand over his chest, eyes shining with sincerity.

“You’re too kind. But please, give me a chance to make it up to you. I want to help.”

“Help? You? Help me do what?”

Oh no.
Whatever he said next was bound to be a disaster. Every sentence from his mouth lately was a live bomb waiting to go off.

“Both our fathers are formidable men,” Iola continued solemnly. “If you were to run away with the one you love, they’d chase you to the ends of the earth to bring you back.”

He said it so calmly, as if predicting a storm.

Viretta shivered. So her future father-in-law was that terrifying?

“They’re not the sort to be swayed by reason,” Iola went on. “So, Lady Viretta…”

The tension built and built—until he finally extended his hand toward her.

“Let’s go slay a dragon.”

His eyes gleamed with the pure belief of a child who still trusted in fairy tales.

“And then, we’ll end the engagement.”

To win their fathers’ approval.
To part ways with honor.
To break off their betrothal by slaying a dragon.

“…”

Viretta froze, her mouth open in disbelief.

Nothing about his logic made sense.

She says she has someone she loves → claims she’d even slay a dragon to marry him → he hears this and goes, Then let’s slay one together!

Where in that equation did he become the leading man of this suicidal expedition?

It was nonsense. Hunting a dragon just to cancel an engagement? It would be easier to seize a remote territory and become a lord.

Worse yet, she didn’t even have anyone she loved, and her “dragon” line had been a throwaway exaggeration.
And to top it off, she’d only just started… well, kind of liking this man.

Handsome, well-bred, considerate—and now hopelessly delusional.

Sure, he might have flaws if you looked hard enough, but he wasn’t someone she wanted to dump. In fact, she wanted to keep him—preferably chained if necessary.

Her father had done well, finding her such a promising fiancé.
She wasn’t about to ruin that.

And she couldn’t just spit in the face of his careful arrangement—what kind of ungrateful daughter would that make her?

Of course, this morning she might’ve felt differently. But that was then.

She needed to act fast. Three options came to mind:

1. Confess – “What I said yesterday was just bravado! I actually support this marriage!”

2. Feign sudden love – “I’ve forgotten my old crush! I fell for you at first sight! You’re my one true love!”

3. Play the victim – “How could you suggest hunting a poor, innocent dragon? What a cruel man you are!”

Three options. Not bad, considering the panic.

She took a deep breath, met Iola’s guileless eyes, and opened her mouth—

“…Let’s go!”

The words escaped before she could stop them.

Of course. It was inevitable.

Her fiancé had done the impossible—he had believed her. He’d trusted her completely, admired her for it.

How could she crush that kind of pure-hearted faith with, “Actually, I was lying”?
That would be downright cruel.

And besides… she really was starting to like him.

People naturally want to impress those they like.
Boasting—well, that was just human nature. Hers was simply a bit… extreme.

She didn’t want to disappoint him.

True braggarts never admit they’ve exaggerated. That stubborn refusal—that’s what defines them.

If you fold the moment someone calls you out, you’re just a liar.
But if you hold your ground even when the blade’s at your throat? That’s the mark of a real braggart.

Viretta grabbed Iola’s outstretched hand, clasping it tightly with both of hers.

“Yes! Let’s slay that dragon—together!”

Viretta Medlit, hopeless braggart extraordinaire, had once again trapped herself.

Three days before their engagement ceremony.

Iola woke early, refreshed and clear-headed, in the luxurious guest chamber prepared for him at House Medlit.

But it wasn’t the silken sheets or fine decor that put him in such good spirits—it was his fiancée, Lady Viretta Medlit.

She might not look like the sword-swinging type, but her passion burned brighter than anyone’s.
The way her violet eyes had lit up when she said, “I’ll slay a dragon!”—his heart had soared.

And she was so composed, too. Yesterday, she had gracefully steered them out of a disastrous misunderstanding.

Afterward, she’d reassured their fathers with perfect poise:
“I believe I may have given Iola the wrong impression when I worried aloud about my engagement. But he was simply being kind. Everything’s fine now.”

With that, she’d calmed everyone and ended the conversation—without a single misstep.

They hadn’t spoken since. But now, with the morning sun streaming through the window, Iola decided it was time.
Time to plan their dragon hunt.

Dressed neatly, he strode confidently out of his room and into the dining hall.

He took his seat and waited patiently, posture impeccable.
One by one, the Medlit elders arrived.

But the chair across from him—Viretta’s—remained empty even as the first course was served.

“Lady Viretta hasn’t joined us,” he said politely.

“Ah, yes. My mind must be slipping,” said the elderly man at the head of the table. “Maid, where’s my granddaughter?”

The speaker was Kalin Medlit, founder of the Medlit Trading Company—and Viretta’s grandfather.

“She went out, sir,” the maid replied. “To buy jewelry suitable for Lord Iola.”

“Ah! That’s right,” Kalin said cheerfully. “I gave her some pocket money last night. She must’ve gone to spend it.”

Kadlen, seated beside him, rubbed his temples. Kalin, unfazed, kept eating.

“Viretta’s a free spirit, but she’s a good girl—always thinks of her old grandfather. I’m sure you understand.”

“I do,” Iola said warmly.

“She mentioned finding a gem that matched your hair,” Kalin added. “So there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Worry?”

The innocent confusion in Iola’s tone brought an awkward hush over the table.

There was really only one kind of “worry” that made sense in this context.
The Medlit family exchanged uneasy glances, each silently checking whether their understanding of social norms was off.

Finally, Kalin, ever the seasoned merchant, stepped in smoothly.

“You two only met yesterday, after all. It’s natural to wonder if your first impressions were good—if you’ll get along.”

“Ah, I see,” Iola said with a smile. “You’re very thoughtful. I’m quite happy to have met her.”

The tension eased instantly. The Medlits all relaxed, their expressions softening.

“Well said,” Kalin chuckled. “She’s a lovely girl. Tall, yes, but that’s no flaw—not when you’re so tall yourself. I’m glad you think well of her.”

Iola smiled, calm and sincere. “Lady Viretta and I are already of one heart.”

At that, everyone brightened. Relief and delight filled the room.

“Is that so? Wonderful!”
“What a relief.”
“Truly, what a blessing!”

No one—not a single soul—realized that what he actually meant was:

We’ve agreed to go slay a dragon together.