Orlando woke up the next morning because of hunger.
To be precise, his stomach woke him up.
The sound was so loud it was like someone banging a drum.
The guest next door thought it was a rooster crowing.
He sat up from the wooden bed and looked down at his stomach.
“Can’t you just calm down for a bit.”
His stomach rumbled again, this time with a little curve at the end, like it was singing.
Fine.
He resigned himself and climbed out of bed.
The inn he stayed at last night was the cheapest in Rantesti City—three copper coins a night.
The bed board was as hard as sleeping on the street, and the straw stuffed inside the pillow prickled the back of his head for half the night.
The only good thing was the price.
Cheap is justice.
He threw on the linen cloak.
He had grabbed this cloak when he left the Elf Forest.
It was rough as a burlap sack, but the hood was big enough to cover most of his face when pulled down low.
For someone currently being “wanted” by the dragons—no, that’s a different matter—for someone hiding from the Silver Dragon Queen, this thing was more practical than any noble’s robe.
When he washed his face, he saw his reflection in the water basin.
The teeth marks the white-haired loli had left on his wrist last night were still there, scabbed over with a thin layer.
“The fangs of the Dark Elf clan.”
He muttered, pulling his sleeve down to cover them.
“Hurts more than a cat bite.”
When he walked out, the innkeeper’s wife was asleep on the front desk.
Her snoring was louder than his stomach.
Orlando thought to himself, ‘This must be what they mean by “birds of a feather flock together.”’
Rantesti City looked a bit more respectable during the day than at night.
The shops along the cobblestone street had opened—bread sellers, fishmongers, cobblers.
Orlando pulled his hood down a little lower.
His stomach growled again.
The sound was so loud that the fish-selling auntie next to him turned her head and gave him a look.
“What are you looking at.”
He lowered his head and quickened his pace.
“Never seen a hungry person before.”
When he reached the street corner, he stopped.
There was a wooden bulletin board there, with a few yellowed pieces of paper nailed to it.
Most were city hall notices—things like “No Dumping Garbage on the Street” and “No Washing Your Feet in the Public Well”—stuff nobody ever read.
But the topmost paper was new.
The paper was very white.
The ink was fresh and bright.
The edges were neatly fastened with four iron nails.
Orlando only glanced at it at first.
Then his steps stopped.
He stood in front of the bulletin board, staring at that paper for five seconds.
Then another five seconds.
Then he tilted his head to the left.
Tilted it to the right.
Trying to confirm from different angles that he wasn’t hallucinating.
On the paper was a drawing of a person.
If that thing could be called a drawing of a person.
An oval head, two eyes set at different heights, a nose drawn as a crooked triangle, a mouth that was a horizontal line with the ends curled up, revealing a stupid, suffocating, mysterious smile.
A few whiskers had been added to the chin, but because the proportions were completely off, they looked like they were growing out of the neck.
Below the drawing was a line of text.
“Wanted. Orlando Dellfort, former member of the Royal Dragon-Slaying Squad. Suspected of high treason and colluding with the enemy, selling out Imperial military intelligence. Anyone providing leads will be rewarded with fifty silver coins. Anyone capturing him will be rewarded with two hundred gold coins.”
The seal was from the Eldron Empire Royal Gendarmerie.
Orlando stared at that drawing for a long time.
“High treason.”
He rolled those four words around in his mouth.
He didn’t need to think about who was behind it.
Karl von Brunswick.
That noble captain.
The guy who activated the teleportation array in Skyreach City and abandoned his teammates without looking back.
And now he had the nerve to pin a “high treason” charge on him.
His face must be thick enough to block dragon breath.
But Orlando just found it funny.
“Two hundred gold coins.”
He muttered to himself.
“I’m worth a pretty penny.”
He looked at the drawing again.
That crooked oval head.
Those mismatched eyes.
That stupid smile.
“The question is—”
The corner of his mouth twitched.
“What the hell is this thing drawn as?”
An old man who was also looking at the bulletin board turned his head and looked Orlando up and down.
Orlando immediately shut his mouth, pulled his hood lower, and put on a “I’m just an ordinary passerby” expression.
The old man withdrew his gaze, studied the drawing for a moment, and shook his head.
“That’s ugly.”
He commented, then walked away with his hands behind his back.
Orlando mentally gave the old man a thumbs up.
He stood in front of the bulletin board with only one thought in his mind.
Run.
Right now.
Immediately.
He weighed this thought in his mind again and confirmed it was the only correct option at the moment.
Then he turned and walked toward the city gate.
The north gate of Rantesti City was the main exit to the inland regions of Eldron.
Normally, merchants, travelers, and carriages flowed in and out nonstop.
Under normal circumstances, blending into the crowd and leaving the city wasn’t hard.
But today wasn’t normal.
When Orlando was still two hundred steps from the gate, he saw the soldiers standing on both sides.
Not the usual lazy gate guards who leaned against the wall with their spears crooked—but soldiers in neat uniforms, swords at their waists, holding a piece of paper in their hands.
Two on the left, two on the right, and one standing in the middle, checking each person leaving the city one by one.
Every time he checked someone, he raised the paper in his hand and compared it to the person’s face.
Orlando didn’t need to get closer to know what was printed on that paper.
That oval head.
Those mismatched eyes.
That stupid smile.
He stopped.
Turned around.
Walked back about fifty steps, stopped at the corner of a small alley, and leaned against the wall.
His mind was racing.
Going through the city gate was definitely out.
Although the drawing was abstract to the point of absurdity, the gendarmes didn’t just have the drawing—they also had his name and identity information.
If he got stopped and questioned, he didn’t even have a single usable fake identity.
Climb over the wall?
He looked up at the height of the city wall.
About four stories.
If he were in dragon form—a silver-haired, silver-eyed loli flying out from the city wall—he’d probably get shot full of arrows like a porcupine by every archer in the city.
Go through the sewers?
He looked down at the ground.
He didn’t even know where the entrance to Rantesti City’s sewers was.
While he was thinking.
His stomach growled.
Not the ordinary hunger from before.
But a sharp pain surging up from the depths of his stomach, like someone had grabbed his insides and twisted them hard.
Orlando’s expression changed instantly.
He was too familiar with this feeling.
Every time before he turned from Orlando into Olivia, his body would send this signal.
Hunger—extreme, unbearable hunger—and then his body would start shrinking, his hair growing longer and turning white, his eyes turning silver, and two lumps of flesh appearing on his chest that he absolutely didn’t want.
“Shit.”
He gritted his teeth, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
“Of all times.”
His body was already starting to tremble.
Not from the cold.
The dragon bloodline inside him was churning, like a pot of boiling water with the lid rattling from the steam.
His fingers were going numb.
The color at the tips of his fingers was fading.
Orlando took a deep breath and forced himself to move.
He ducked into a narrower alley beside him, walking deeper along the wall.
His steps grew more and more unsteady, his knees weak, like he was walking on cotton.
After about a hundred steps, he found a dead end.
Three sides were walls, piled with a few broken wooden boxes and a handcart missing a wheel.
Above him was a gap sandwiched between two buildings.
Sunlight couldn’t reach in.
It was dark and damp, the air thick with the smell of mold.
No one.
He collapsed against the wall, his back against the cold stone.
The changes in his body began to accelerate.
His fingers were shortening.
His skin was getting finer and whiter.
A tingling sensation came from the roots of his hair—silver strands were growing out of his scalp.
The worst part was his chest.
His ribs were rearranging themselves at a slow but irreversible pace.
Orlando clenched his jaw.
No.
Not now.
Turning into Olivia in this place would be suicide.
If a little girl walked out of this dead end and someone saw her, they would trace it back to him within half a day.
He pressed both hands onto his knees, digging his ten fingers into the kneecaps.
His nails pierced the skin.
The pain sharpened his consciousness for a moment.
The dragon bloodline inside him seemed to sense his resistance and churned even more violently.
An even stronger wave of hunger exploded from his stomach.
His vision started to change color.
The normal colors were fading.
Everything was being covered by a layer of silver mist.
Orlando closed his eyes.
“You—”
He gritted his teeth, his voice squeezing through.
“Push it back down.”
His body trembled violently.
His bones let out a slight cracking sound.
His fingers stopped shortening.
But the force didn’t retreat.
He was just barely holding it back with sheer will.
Like a dam holding back a flood—the water level was still rising, and the cracks were constantly widening.
He didn’t know how long he could last.
Sweat dripped down his cheeks, landing on his cloak, leaving dark wet stains.
His breathing grew faster and faster.
His fingers started going numb again.
Just then.
A voice came from behind him.
“Sir, do you need help?”
Orlando’s pupils shrank sharply.
He hadn’t sensed anyone behind him at all until the person spoke.
He turned his head.
Gray was standing there.
Half-black, half-white hair.
Heterochromatic pupils.
Dark long coat.
The exact same outfit as last night, even the position of the dark embroidered pattern on his collar hadn’t changed.
He was standing at the entrance of the alley, backlit, his facial expression hard to make out.
But from his voice, he probably still had that gentle, skin-crawling smile.
Orlando opened his mouth.
He remembered this place.
When he ran in, he had clearly checked—three sides were walls.
The only entrance was the path he had taken.
There was no one on that path just now.
How did Gray end up behind him?
He wanted to ask.
But no sound came out of his throat.
The dragon bloodline was rampaging inside him.
He was using all his strength to suppress the transformation.
If he opened his mouth to speak now, he was afraid that instead of words, a mouthful of dragon breath would come out.
Gray tilted his head.
“Sir doesn’t look well.”
He took a step forward.
Still no sound of footsteps.
“Do you need my help? Consider it thanks for what happened before.”
Orlando looked at him.
Two thoughts were fighting in his mind.
The first was rejection.
Everything about this guy was suspicious.
No footsteps.
Heterochromatic pupils.
He could use the Holy Light of the Angel tribe.
The vague outlines of wings on his back.
Going with someone like that—who knew where he would be taken.
The second thought was reality.
He was about to break.
The dragon bloodline inside him was surging more and more violently, like a beast trapped in a cage, ramming the bars with all its strength.
At most, he could hold on for another minute or two before he turned into Olivia in this dead end.
Exposing his dragon identity in a human city.
That was a dead end.
Going with this mysterious guy.
At least it was a chance.
Orlando used every ounce of strength he had and nodded once.
Gray smiled faintly.
He stepped forward and extended a hand.
Orlando grabbed that hand and used it to stand up.
The moment their palms touched, he felt that Gray’s fingers were ice cold, not like the body temperature of a living person.
But when that coolness spread up his wrist, the rampaging dragon bloodline inside him calmed down slightly.
Just a little.
But enough for him to steady himself.
“Sir, follow me.”
Gray released his hand, turned, and walked deeper into the alley.
Only then did Orlando see clearly—behind that pile of broken wooden boxes, there was a narrow door he hadn’t noticed before.
The color of the door panel was almost identical to the wall.
If you weren’t looking carefully, you wouldn’t notice it at all.
Gray pushed the door open and stepped aside to let Orlando enter first.
Behind the door was an even narrower passage.
On both walls, oil lamps were placed every dozen or so steps.
The light was so dim it felt like being underground.
Orlando walked forward, holding onto the wall.
Every step felt like stepping on a knife’s edge.
The dragon bloodline was still churning inside him, but it was a little better than before.
At least his fingers had stopped shortening, and the silver in his vision hadn’t deepened further.
Gray walked behind him.
Still no sound of footsteps.
After walking for a while, Gray spoke.
“Sir has a very special constitution.”
Orlando’s back tensed for a moment.
“What do you mean.”
His voice was hoarse like sandpaper.
“Nothing.”
Gray’s tone was very calm.
“I just thought that the way Sir looked just now—it was like he was fighting something.”
“…You’re seeing things.”
“Maybe.”
Gray didn’t say anything more.
The passage turned a corner ahead, leading deeper.
The flames of the oil lamps cast flickering shadows on the walls, reflecting Gray’s shadow as well.
Orlando glanced at the shadow on the wall.
Gray’s shadow looked normal.
There was no bulge at the shoulder.
He withdrew his gaze and kept walking forward.
His stomach churned again.
He gritted his teeth and swallowed back the breath that surged up his throat.
A flash of silver light flickered in his eyes, quickly suppressed again.
Gray was behind him.
He couldn’t see Gray’s face.
And Gray couldn’t see the silver that flashed in his eyes for that one moment.
At least not yet.
Orlando took a deep breath, focusing all his attention on walking.
One step.
And another.
A faint light was showing at the end of the passage.
He didn’t know where it led.
But it was better than turning into a loli and being chased through the entire city.