“Ugh, my head hurts…”
Olivia woke up from the darkness.
The back of her head felt like someone had hit her with a club, and everything in front of her was swaying.
She sat up, propping herself on her elbows.
Silver hair slid off her shoulders, spreading across the unfamiliar white sheets.
“What is this…”
She looked down.
Two white things hung on her chest.
The skin was so pale it made some inappropriate images pop into her head.
She shook her head hard to get rid of those messy thoughts.
The two things shook along with her.
“What… what is this!”
The door opened.
Astrid walked in.
Silver-white hair fell to her shoulders, her silver pupils fixed on Olivia, a slight smile on her lips.
She walked to the bed and sat down, reaching out to brush the tangled strands of hair from Olivia’s forehead behind her ear.
“Awake now?”
“Are you getting used to your body?”
Olivia’s pupils sharply contracted.
She slapped the hand away and shrunk back into the corner of the bed.
“You old dragon, what… what did you do to me!”
“A girl shouldn’t talk so rough.”
“You… I am not your daughter!”
Olivia sprang from the corner of the bed and lunged at Astrid.
“Change me back now!”
Astrid extended her arms and caught her.
The silver dragon queen, about 5 feet 2 inches tall, pulled the silver-haired girl into her embrace.
She rested her chin on top of her head, her voice falling through the silver strands.
“As expected of my heir. The genetics are good.”
Olivia’s face flushed from her neck to the tips of her ears.
“I… am…”
Astrid set her down from her embrace and took her hand.
“Do you want to see what you look like now?”
“Then take a look.”
By the bed stood a full-length mirror with a silver frame carved with the patterns of the Dragonrest Mountains.
Olivia stood in front of the mirror.
Silver-white hair fell to her waist.
Silver pupils, the exact same color as the “mother” in front of her.
Delicate collarbones, snow-white skin that stirred the imagination.
(Explicit details omitted)
Then she let out a sharp shriek.
Two years later.
Osteria, Silverport City suburbs, a rented room.
Orlando shot up from the bed, like someone had stabbed him in the back.
His back was covered in sweat, his shirt sticking to his skin, damp and sticky.
His heart was beating fast and heavy, thump thump thump, like someone was drumming inside his chest.
He breathed heavily, staring at the ceiling, taking about ten seconds to figure out where he was.
Rented room.
Silverport City.
Osteria.
Although it had been two years since he left Astrid,
that image was still too vivid.
He looked down at his hands.
A man’s hands.
Knobby knuckles, long fingers, nails cut short, with thick calluses on the base of the thumb and fingers.
The result of years of holding guns and turning screws.
He touched his chin.
Stubble pricked his fingers.
He touched his throat.
His Adam’s apple was there, protruding, bobbing as he swallowed.
He let out a long breath, collapsed back onto the bed, arm draped across his forehead.
Staring at the water stains on the ceiling, lost in thought.
That dream.
Again, that dream.
More accurately, not a dream.
A memory.
Two years ago.
He had been turned into Olivia by Astrid and spent two full years as the Silver Dragon Princess in Skyreach City.
Two years.
Seven hundred and thirty days.
Every day was like a nightmare—not the terrifying kind, but the kind where you know it’s fake but can’t wake up.
Raised by Astrid as her daughter.
Every morning someone came to comb her hair, dress her, put on her shoes.
Every single garment was a skirt.
All kinds of skirts.
Lace, silk, satin, tulle.
Pink, white, lavender, silver-gray.
Long ones trailing on the floor, short ones above the knee.
Not a single one she wanted to wear.
But her body was only 4 feet 7 inches tall, with about as much strength as a chicken.
The result of resisting was being held down with smiles by the maids and then putting on whatever.
During meals, she sat next to Astrid, using silver utensils, eating dragon food.
Most of it she didn’t recognize, occasionally fruit and desserts.
Every time she wanted to throw the plate at Astrid’s head, but then forgot.
Over two years, she learned dragon history, dragon etiquette, dragon magic.
But Astrid cared more about whether she walked with her head up and chest out, whether she smoothed her skirt when sitting, whether she smiled when meeting guests.
Although she wanted to flip the table every time, Astrid always appeased her with a plate of dessert.
The most terrifying thing was that Astrid never scolded her.
Never.
No matter how she threw a tantrum or yelled, Astrid always wore an expression that said, “It’s normal for a child to throw a fit.”
Then she would whisper in her ear, “There, there, Mother understands.”
Two years.
Seven hundred and thirty days.
She tried to escape.
Every time she was caught.
Not caught by the guards—the guards of Skyreach City didn’t even need to catch her, because she couldn’t escape the city.
Skyreach City was built on the highest peak of the Dragonrest Mountains.
Outside was a ten-thousand-foot abyss.
A little girl at 4 feet 7 inches would be flattened into a meat pie if she jumped.
She tried blending in with other dragons, only to be smilingly hauled back by the maids at the city gate.
She tried stealing a guard’s keys, only to be smilingly blocked by Astrid in the corridor.
She tried faking illness to stay indoors, and Astrid would sit by her bed with medicine, smilingly feeding her.
During those two years,
Astrid genuinely treated her as a daughter, which was more terrifying than torture.
Astrid seemed to be waiting for her to get used to it, to accept it, to forget that she was once called Orlando Delford, until she herself mentally became Olivia, completely accepting the identity of the Silver Dragon Princess.
Astrid had all the time in the world.
Dragons have extremely long lifespans.
She could wait a hundred years, two hundred years, five hundred years.
And now Olivia’s lifespan was as long as a dragon’s.
She could afford to wait.
But Orlando could never accept such an absurd situation.
If he stayed here any longer, he would probably never be able to leave…
Three months ago, an opportunity came.
Astrid was going to the northern tundra to inspect dragon territories, a trip of half a month.
She prepared a week in advance—stole a map, hid some dried rations, figured out the guard shift changes.
That night, she climbed out the window, crawled along the outer wall to the city gate.
Then unfolded her dragon wings and left that place.
Flying over Eldron, she looked down through the clouds, seeing the lights of the town, the harbor, the direction of her father’s workshop.
She thought about going back.
But in her current form, landing in front of her father—what would he think?
The empire’s former dragonslayer, seeing his son turned into a dragon princess—he would probably draw his sword first.
She kept flying.
Past the coastline of Eldron, across the strait, all the way to Osteria.
When she reached the border of Osteria, she found she could turn back into a human.
Osteria was a good place.
Dragons couldn’t enter, and the people of Osteria didn’t ask about the past.
So he stayed.