Chapter 5 : The Cost of the Little Girl’s Spell 

Richard strode through the bustling streets, Aurina perched on his back.

Her arms looped loosely around his head, and she held her chin high, surveying the throngs of humans below with a regal air.

The overcast sky split, rays of sunlight spilling through the cracks, cascading over her flame-red hair.

Her tiny dragon horns gleamed like polished rubies, and the light softened her delicate, infant-like face.

Passersby turned, their gazes reverent, as if offering tribute to a divine idol.

Aurina’s chest swelled with pride.

That’s more like it.

These insignificant worms should crane their necks to behold a true dragon.

She nudged Richard with her bare feet.

“Faster, faster! Charge!”

Mistaking her command for bashfulness, Richard broke into a jog, his boots thumping against the cobblestones.

Aurina nearly slipped, her arms tightening around his neck as she felt the rhythm of her “steed” beneath her.

A grin split her face, revealing gleaming shark-like teeth.

What a splendid beast of burden!

Even stripped of her formidable body and raw power, her dragon’s cunning had effortlessly enslaved this fool, Richard.

Truly, whether by wit or might, these worms could only gaze up at her majesty.

Lost in the thrill of her triumph and the crowd’s awestruck stares, Aurina barely noticed when her “Richard-brand” mount slowed, crouching to set her gently down.

Her pale feet met the dusty wooden floor, and she pouted up at him, now looming taller.

Wa“Carry me more.”

“We’re here,” Richard said.

“Carry me,” Aurina insisted, tilting her face and invoking her charm.

“Because I’m a little girl.”

Before he could respond, a woman’s voice rang out from behind the counter.

“What would you like, sir… Oh! How adorable!”

Footsteps thundered closer.

Aurina whipped around to see a drab, muted dress swaying above two large feet, charging toward her.

Craning her neck, she met the gaze of a freckled, sallow-skinned matron whose eyes sparkled with fervor.

The woman clutched a handkerchief, twisting it nearly to shreds, looking ready to pounce.

“So adorable!” the matron cried, advancing.

Aurina’s instincts screamed danger.

This woman was terrifying—time to deploy her loyal, foolish Richard as a shield.

She darted behind him, barking, “Bite her! Quick, bite her!”

Richard stepped forward, blocking the matron’s path.

“Careful. She’s a newborn dragon. She bites and breathes fire.”

The matron peered at Aurina, puzzled.

“A dragon?”

“Yes. Barely born, with no sense of human morality but all the wicked memories of her kind. Until she’s properly educated, it’s best to keep your distance.”

The matron glanced at Aurina, who was bouncing on her toes, and smiled.

“She looks as innocent as my eleven-year-old daughter. Just a darling child.”

Richard reached for Aurina.

“Disobey, and I’ll bite!”

Aurina snapped, lunging to sink her shark-like teeth into his forearm.

Richard lifted his arm, hoisting her light frame into the air. She clung on, refusing to let go.

The matron stepped back.

“Raising a dragon child must be tough for a big man like you. I’ll pick out some lovely children’s clothes—guaranteed to please!”

With that, she bustled off.

Aurina released her grip, her feet landing on the floor.

Glaring at the matron’s retreating back, she planted her hands on her hips.

“Hmph. Fled in terror by my majesty.”

Richard inspected his bracer, now etched with fine bite marks, and sighed, thinking of his dwindling funds.

“Guess I won’t fix this.”

Aurina, like a conqueror, surveyed the clothing shop.

It was painfully ordinary—long-sleeved shirts, drab dresses, cloaks.

The kind of garments worn by housewives, townsfolk, cart-pullers, or farmers trudging home through rain with hoes over their shoulders.

With a dragon’s precision, she calculated their worth and waved dismissively.

“Cheap rags, but sand grains build towers. Pack them all up.”

“We’re here to trade, not steal,” Richard said.

“Trading is a contract between people. You offer coins from your purse in exchange for their labor…”

“She was so terrified by my grandeur, she’d have wet herself and crawled away,” Aurina interrupted.

“Weaklings who can’t protect their wealth deserve to lose it to the strong.”

As if on cue, the matron stormed back, arms laden with girls’ clothing.

“Perfect timing! I’ve got fashionable dresses from Nurenburg, meant for my daughter, but they don’t suit her.”

Aurina’s eyes narrowed.

The matron’s left hand held a lacy dress, trailing soft white stockings and—horror of horrors—triangular undergarments.

Her right hand brandished white tights, black-and-white stockings, and vibrant skirts.

Aurina knew these clothes.

She’d seen them, touched them, on the beautiful females who once fawned over her—especially those stockings.

Why so many stockings?

The matron’s grin made Aurina’s skin crawl.

“They’re just sitting around, so I’ll sell them cheap. Try them on, dear, let Mommy see how pretty you look.”

Richard nodded.

“Thank you so much.”

“No!”

Aurina protested, jabbing a finger.

“How could a king wear such… female clothes? I want that one.”

Richard followed her gaze to a boy’s outfit styled like an arming doublet, worn by knights under plate armor for support and cushioning.

Its rugged look inspired admiration, spawning this imitation.

He shook his head.

“That’s for men, and it’s too big.”

“It’s perfect for me,” Aurina insisted.

“Buy it.”

The matron chuckled.

“Sweetie, girls wear pretty dresses.”

“Richard!”

Aurina barked.

“I want it. Now.”

“Stop being difficult.”

Aurina chanted her spell.

“Because I’m a little girl, I’m a little girl, I’m a little girl, listen to me!”

“Exactly!” the matron laughed.

“Little girls wear little girls’ clothes.”

Aurina froze, her mind racing.

Without the little-girl spell, she couldn’t bend this fool Richard to her will for her grand revenge.

But using it meant donning these… excessively feminine scraps.

She, the ten-time champion of red dragons, the pinnacle of masculine might, wearing stockings and flimsy dresses?

Unthinkable!

The matron, impatient, thrust the clothes toward Aurina’s face, bubbling with excitement.

“Come on, try them on. You’ll look adorable!”

The ten-time greatest red dragon champion bolted, screaming, “No! I’ll never wear those!”

As she neared the door, Richard’s hand descended, seizing her tiny dragon horns.

“Let go! Let go!”

Aurina’s slender tail thrashed weakly at his boots.

“I won’t wear that nonsense, never!”

“Enough,” Richard said.

“As your guardian, it’s my duty to teach you to be a lady. Besides, these clothes are of great value.”

He dragged her back to the matron.

The matron’s hands twitched, like a cat lover eyeing a fluffy kitten.

Aurina bared her shark-like teeth, snarling, “Try dressing me, and I’ll eat you!”

The matron cooed, “What a cute little thing.”

Unfazed by her dragon’s aura, this wasn’t some mere worm—she was a monster, like Richard.

Aurina’s instincts were right: this matron was terrifying.

Richard spoke up.

“She’s genuinely dangerous. I’ll stay back while you dress her. If anything goes wrong, I’ll step in. She is a dragon.”

Aurina clung to Richard’s arm, picturing the horror: stripping before him, slipping into soft white stockings and those feminine monstrosities.

Then what?

Her mind flashed through hundreds of memories—females adoring her, dressing in such clothes for her, back when she was Oberth, King of Red Dragons.

She shrieked, “No! Not that!”

“Fair point,” Richard conceded.

“I should respect your modesty. Swear you won’t harm her.”

“I swear,” Aurina muttered.

“Good. If I hear screams, I’ll barge in. Think carefully,” Richard said.

“Using your shame as leverage isn’t honorable, but it’s nothing compared to a life.”

Aurina’s head dipped, and she trudged after the matron, her teeth grinding audibly.

Damn you, Richard.

I’ll remember this.

One day, I’ll turn the tables and humiliate you with frilly dresses.

As she passed him, she leapt, shouting, “War Stomp!”

Her delicate feet slammed onto his boots, her soles pressing with all her might.

Like this, I’ll crush you, break every bone, make you spit blood!

After a few stomps, her anger ebbed, and she followed the matron to the changing room, subdued.

Richard waited outside.

Soon, a scream pierced the air.

Richard gripped his sword hilt and burst in.

The matron stood, hand over mouth, unharmed and unsinged.

Then he saw Aurina, her bare shoulders gleaming, arms clutching her chest as she cowered in a corner.

Her red hair swirled as she whipped around, her face flushed, glaring accusingly.

“Worm! What are you staring at? Get out!”

“She’s like a little elf, so cute!” the matron squealed, stomping her feet.

“Sorry,” Richard mumbled, retreating and shutting the door.

His heart raced, guilt gnawing at him.

After a while, the door creaked open.

The matron nudged a reluctant Aurina forward. “What do you think?”

Aurina wore a fitted white dress, its hem brushing her knees, revealing slender legs that flowed like cream.

Her feet, encased in white stockings, turned inward, toes fidgeting nervously.

Her fiery hair seemed to set her cheeks ablaze, and she turned aside, as if too shy to meet Richard’s gaze.

“Worm,” she muttered.

“What are you gawking at? This one’s fine, right?”

“There are others.”

“No way!”

The matron dragged her back.

Maid-dress Aurina, princess-gown Aurina, ballerina-skirt Aurina… Her face, initially defiant, grew numb, her golden eyes dulling.

By the sixth outfit, her gaze was as lifeless as a doll’s.

Richard realized the matron was treating Aurina like a dress-up doll.

“That’s enough,” he said, eyeing Aurina’s vacant expression.

“We’ll take these.”

The matron pouted. “I have another style.”

“Funds are tight,” Richard said.

“And Aurina’s exhausted.”

“I’ll give you a discount.”

Richard shook his head.

“She’s tired.”

“Am… am I free?”

Aurina’s lifeless eyes lifted.

“Can we go back to your worm nest?”

“It’s an inn,” Richard corrected, glancing at her feet.

“Why no shoes?”

“She refused.”

“You can’t go barefoot,” Richard said. “The streets are filthy.”

Aurina snapped to life, shaking her head.

“A true dragon’s feet never sully, not even these stockings.”

“You’ll step in mud.”

“No, no, never,” she insisted.

“I was always barefoot before.”

“Before?”

“Er, I mean… since I was born!”

She raised a foot, the white stocking pristine despite the dusty floor.

“See? Not a speck.”