Chapter 19: It’s three o’clock, let’s drink tea first

Prunieri threw the game controller onto the table, leaned back in her chair, and propped her legs up on the edge of the desk.

The fuzzy slippers on her feet were emblazoned with the cartoon mascot of some Federal food company, complementing the snack wrappers scattered all over the captain’s room.

“First.”

She held up a finger.

“Thanks for saving Xiao Ami last night. That girl’s got a head full of rocks, but she’s still part of the Red Sun Company.”

Orlando took a moment to process that “Xiao Ami” referred to the white-haired dark elf loli.

‘A head full of rocks—that’s pretty accurate.’

“It was nothing,” he said.

“Nothing?”

Prunieri raised an eyebrow.

“Hui said you caught her sword between two fingers last night. That girl may be green, but her sword speed is fast for her age.”

“…Lucky guess.”

Prunieri didn’t press the issue.

She peeled a fruit candy, tossed it into her mouth, and crunched it twice.

Her red pupils scanned Orlando up and down.

“That said.”

She spoke around the candy, slurring slightly.

“The Red Sun Company doesn’t keep freeloaders.”

Orlando didn’t respond.

“Back in the dining hall, Hui told me how much you eat.”

Prunieri swallowed the candy, her lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“Six plates of potato stew, two plates of boiled vegetables, seven slices of dark bread. And that was you ‘not eating much.’ ”

She made air quotes with her fingers.

“You know what that kind of appetite means?”

Orlando knew perfectly well.

But what came out of his mouth was, “It means I eat a lot.”

“A lot?”

Prunieri laughed.

“That’s almost enough to feed a dragon.”

Orlando’s expression didn’t change.

‘No shit. I am a dragon. Just not by choice.’

“Well, an appetite is a blessing.”

Prunieri put her feet back on the floor and sat up straight.

At a meter fifty, sitting straight in the chair didn’t add much height, but when she looked at him, her eyes carried a weight that didn’t match her frame.

“So, Mr. Orlando.”

She folded her hands on the table.

“Tell me about your background. What country were you in before? What did you do? Why did you come to Rantesti City?”

Orlando’s mind started racing.

He couldn’t tell the truth.

‘Hello, I’m the daughter of the Silver Dragon Queen, I was turned into a loli and raised for two years, and now I’m running around looking for some clock-headed riddle-meister’s so-called Alderon Ruins.’

But staying silent wasn’t an option either.

Just as he hesitated, Hui spoke up.

“Captain.”

Hui’s voice came from beside Orlando.

As gentle as ever, as soundless as ever—Orlando hadn’t even noticed when he’d moved to stand next to him.

“Mr. Orlando used to live in the Osteria Federation, where he worked as a document clerk. After the economic downturn, he was laid off, drifted, and eventually came to Eldron. As for martial skills, he can handle a wooden sword and has some real combat experience.”

Prunieri raised an eyebrow.

“Osteria?”

“Yes.”

Hui didn’t elaborate.

Prunieri didn’t push.

She glanced at Hui, then at Orlando, and shrugged.

“Fine. If Hui vouched for you, I won’t ask.”

Orlando let out a mental sigh of relief.

At the same time, he made a mental note to thank Hui later—the fake background he’d spun actually sounded plausible.

The document clerk part was true.

The layoff part was true.

Telling the truth in a different way was harder to disprove than an outright lie.

“Your room is on the second floor, end of the hall, left-hand side.”

Prunieri picked up the game controller again.

“As for what work you’ll do, Hui will arrange it. Don’t bother me while I’m gaming.”

On the screen, the little soldier in armor started slashing slimes again.

Hui led Orlando to the second floor.

The room wasn’t big, but it was about a hundred times better than the rented room he’d had in Rantesti City.

An iron-frame bed with a mattress that looked thick.

A desk, a chair, a wardrobe.

The window faced the inner courtyard, where he could see a few wooden crates stacked below and a handcart.

“Please rest for now, sir,” Hui said from the doorway.

“Dinner is at six—you already know where the dining hall is. Tomorrow I’ll take you to familiarize yourself with the Red Sun Company’s daily routine.”

“Got it.”

Hui gave a slight nod, turned, and walked away.

His footsteps were still completely silent.

Orlando closed the door and threw himself onto the bed.

The mattress really was thick—more comfortable than any place he’d slept in the past two months.

He stared at the unlit bulb on the ceiling for about ten minutes, running through the day’s events from beginning to end.

He pushed those thoughts aside and closed his eyes.

The fatigue of his body surged up like a tide, and his consciousness soon sank away.

The dream wasn’t a pitch-black void.

It was white.

The height was wrong.

He looked down at himself.

Silver hair fell across his chest, and he was wearing a black nightgown he’d never seen before.

The neckline was ridiculously low — even worse than the strapless dress in the Silver Dragon King’s Palace.

Those two troublesome mounds of flesh were pushed up by lace trim, faintly glowing silver-white in the moonlight.

His hand—no, her hand—was slender and pale, with nails of a faint silver.

“Damn.”

Olivia’s voice came out of her own mouth.

She stood in an endless white space.

The floor was white, the ceiling was white, everything in every direction was white.

It was like standing in the middle of a thick fog, but even the fog was white.

Then the sound of gears turning echoed.

Click.

Click.

Click.

The sound came from far away, growing closer.

The white fog parted, and a figure emerged.

Clock head.

Body of gears.

Pale golden wings fluttering slowly behind her back.

She was about a meter forty tall, about the same height as Olivia’s current form.

Victoria.

Her wings cast faint golden light spots in the white space.

The hands on her clock face pointed to some time Olivia couldn’t read, and her gear body emitted a fine mechanical sound with every step.

“Long time no see.”

“How are things going?”

Olivia crossed her arms—then realized the motion made those two lumps press together even more, and quickly dropped her arms again.

“I’m stuck in the city now,” she said.

“That’s rough.”

Victoria tilted her clock head.

The hands clinked with the movement.

“Hmph.”

Olivia turned her head away.

The silver hair slid over her shoulder and hung over her chest.

She reached up and brushed it back, the motion so natural she didn’t even notice.

Victoria let out a light laugh.

The sound echoed through the gears with a metallic resonance.

“Looks like the Silver Dragon Queen trained you well,” she said.

“You’ve got quite the princess vibe.”

Olivia froze.

She looked down at her own hand—the one that had just brushed back her hair.

Slender fingers, pale silver nails.

That gesture… it was the one Astrid always made before speaking.

‘When did I learn that?’

She didn’t know.

“Business,” Olivia said, dropping her hands and letting her voice turn cold.

“Fine, little princess.”

Victoria stopped laughing.

Her gear body leaned forward slightly.

The hands on her clock face began to turn slowly, making a fine ticking sound.

“About that ruin—I’ll give you a clue.”

She raised one metal finger.

“North of the Aether.”

Olivia waited about five seconds.

Victoria didn’t speak again.

“…That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“North of the Aether? What does that mean? Is Aether a place or literal? How far north?”

Victoria tilted her head again.

The hands on her clock face clinked.

“Figure it out yourself.”

“Can you stop being a riddle-spewer!”

Olivia’s voice echoed in the white space.

Victoria’s figure was already fading.

The sound of gears grew distant.

Her pale golden wings folded in and melted into the white fog.

“Wait—”

Victoria vanished.

The white space began to collapse.

The white floor split into countless cracks, and golden light surged up from the gaps.

Olivia looked down and saw a scene she’d never seen before—huge stone pillars, a collapsed dome, walls engraved with runes, steps buried by windblown sand.

A ruin.

A forgotten ruin hidden somewhere.

The image flashed and was gone.

She fell.

Olivia snapped her eyes open.

Silver pupils stared at the ceiling.

She sat up, silver hair sliding off the pillow and spilling across her shoulders.

“—!”

A short yelp.

Not loud, but enough to make herself fully awake.

She looked down at herself—silver hair, white collar, and those two lumps that jiggled from the motion of sitting up.

“Calm down.”

She took a deep breath.

“Calm down.”

She closed her eyes and focused on the draconic bloodline inside her.

The silver light receded from her skin.

The silver hair shortened from the ends, its color changing from silver-white back to ordinary dark brown.

The two lumps on her chest shrank—a process accompanied by a mild ache of shifting bones.

Her shoulders broadened, her arms thickened, and her Adam’s apple reappeared.

Thirty seconds later.

Orlando sat on the bed, pulling off whatever transformed black nightgown he’d somehow ended up wearing.

He looked down at his own hands.

Knobby knuckles, rough skin—a world away from the slender, pale hands of moments ago.

“Next time I dream, can I at least wear normal clothes?” he said to the air.

He found a set of clothes Hui had left in the wardrobe—ordinary linen shirt and trousers, and the size was surprisingly perfect.

He dressed, re-hung the wooden sword at his waist, walked to the door, and pulled it open.

Hui was standing right outside, one hand raised, ready to knock.

They faced each other.

Orlando’s expression switched from “just woken up daze” to “cheerful smile” in about 0.3 seconds.

“Haha, good morning, Mr. Hui.”

Hui’s hand was still hanging in the air.

He looked at Orlando, then lowered it.

“It’s already three in the afternoon.”

Orlando’s smile froze for a moment.

“…Three?”

He glanced out the window.

The sunlight was definitely afternoon light, slanting in through the window and spreading an orange-red patch on the floor.

He’d slept from last night until the next afternoon.

“Three o’clock?”

“Time for tea, huh?”

Hui didn’t speak.

His expression remained its usual gentle smile, but Orlando could swear he saw something like a “what the hell is this guy talking about” flicker through those heterochromatic eyes.

“Sir,” Hui said.

“Please go register. Give me the contract when you’re done.”

“Right, right, register.”

Orlando stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Hui turned and walked ahead, still completely silent.

Orlando followed.

They moved down the hall toward the stairs.

At the stairwell, a red head poked around the corner.

Two pigtails hung on either side.

Red eyes stared at Orlando’s back for a second.

Prunieri.

She watched Orlando and Hui go down the stairs, then stepped out from the corner.

“Hmm?”

Hui paused one step below the stairs and turned his head slightly.

Prunieri gave him a look.

He understood, and once Orlando was a little farther ahead, he came back up.

The two stood in the second-floor hallway.

Afternoon sunlight came in through the window at the far end, casting a long rectangle of light on the floor.

“What is it, Chief?”

Hui asked.

Prunieri didn’t answer immediately.

She walked to the door of the room Orlando had just left, pushed it open, and looked inside.

The room was neat.

The bed had been made.

“Mr. Orlando,” Prunieri said.

“There’s something off about him.”

Hui stood behind her, the heterochromatic eyes reflecting the light and shadow of the room.

“Indeed,” he said.

“Tell me.”

“Last night when I found him in the alley, he was suppressing something inside him.”

Hui’s voice was calm, as if stating a fact that had nothing to do with him.

“It felt like… he was fighting his own body. I’ve seen similar cases, but never someone struggling so hard.”

Prunieri didn’t respond.

“Also,” Hui continued.

“When I reached out to help him up, the Holy Light sensed the mana fluctuation inside him. Very faint, deliberately suppressed, but of very high quality. Not the texture of ordinary human mana.”

“Dragon?”

“Not sure,” Hui said.

“But close.”

Prunieri was silent for a moment.

Her red pigtails swayed slightly in the afternoon light.

She walked into the room, scanned the floor.

Under the bed, under the desk, beside the wardrobe.

Then she stopped.

Between the wardrobe and the wall, something was catching the light.

She bent down and picked it up.

A hair.

White.

Silver-white.

About waist length.

Prunieri held the silver hair up to her eyes.

Her red pupils contracted.

The afternoon sunlight filtered through the strand, refracting a faint silver halo.

The texture of the hair was oddly tough—smoother than human hair when she rolled it between her fingers.

She stared at the silver hair for about ten seconds.

“Silver dragon,” she murmured.

“Or am I seeing things?”

Hui stood behind her, not speaking.

The heterochromatic eyes reflected the silver strand, and the gold one seemed to darken for an instant.

From the end of the hall, Orlando’s voice came.

“Mr. Hui? Where’s the registration office?”

Prunieri closed her palm around the silver hair and tightened her grip.

Then she turned and walked out of the room.

She put her usual lazy expression back on.

“Coming, coming! What’s all the shouting about?”

She stuck her head out the hall and yelled down to Orlando.

“Third door on the right! Find it yourself! Are you a three-year-old that needs a babysitter?”