Strawww

But he didn't feel the satisfaction he had before.

The sword came down. The edge cut. The body fell.

The air smelled of iron and damp earth. Always the same.

Day after day. Blood after blood.

There was no difference between the living and the dead.

The sky was gray. The world was gray.

Even Choi Han felt that way.

The current king of the Roan Kingdom, Alberu Crossman, always entrusted him with missions for the safety of the Kingdom, and it was fine, or at least it was at first.

These days, he's practically a servant of the Kingdom, sent to solve any problem, no matter how small.

A band of bandits ravaging the border had been eliminated. The report would be brief: "Threat neutralized, minimal casualties."

Another success for the Roan Kingdom.

The problem was, he felt nothing anymore.

No satisfaction, no pride, not even relief.

"Everything I do... is it really worth it?"

Before he could make a decision, one of the palace servants called out to him.

"Young Choi Han, Your Majesty, the king requests your presence in the throne room," the woman said before leaving briskly.

He wiped the blood off his sword before Heathing it in the same scabbard He'd carried for years.

"I wonder what you need from me now."

His boots echoed against the stone of the palace corridor as He walked toward the throne room. There was no rest. There never was.

Before him, sitting on his throne, King Alberu Crossman watched him with that mixture of sharpness and disdain.

His fingers tapped against the armrest, as if he already knew Choi Han was coming to deliver the same report as always.

"Choi Han," he said, his voice firm, without hesitation.

"Good work on the bandits."

The knight bowed his head.

"I did as you ordered, Your Majesty."

Alberu agreed, although his eyes were already fixed on another document.

"Yes, you always do. That's why you never let me down, that's why I entrusted you with another mission."

Of course.

There was no surprise on Choi Han's face, only silent waiting.

The past few months have been like this. Kill. Eliminate yourself. Return. Search. Ever since the now king was crowned, everything changed for him. He no longer recognized the man sitting before him; that was not the man he swore to protect.

"A dragon has appeared on the borders of the kingdom," the king continued, leaving the scroll in front of him. "Rumors are growing, the villages are restless."

The word "dragon" echoed in his chest. Ancient beasts. Monsters that laid waste to entire villages.

And now it was his task… to hunt one down.

“And my duty is…?”

Alberu looked at him, as if it were obvious.

“To kill him.”

Silence filled the room. Choi Han lowered his head and clenched his fist tightly around the hilt of his sword.

“Just as I thought.”

“…As you command, Your Majesty.”

Just as his meeting with His Majesty ended, some maids appeared and took him to his chambers, leaving him fresh food and clean clothes.

Like a puppet, he dragged himself to the bathroom, where he finally removed those disgusting clothes, which stuck to his skin with every movement.

But it was okay; he had grown accustomed to having blood dripping down his body.

After all, he was a murderous monster.

He killed because he was asked to; he no longer did it out of kindness to people.

It had been so long since he had stopped caring about the citizens.

‘When had he become so selfish?’

Putting his thoughts aside, he tossed his clothes into a corner of the bathroom.

I turned on the faucet to let the water run and stepped into the shower.

He could feel the water falling over his body, hitting his shoulders with a constant murmur.

Hot.

Burning.

It should feel good.

Warm.

Comforting.

But he didn't actually feel anything.

Steam filled the room, fogging the mirrors, erasing even his reflection. Choi Han didn't care. He didn't even look up to check if he was still there.

He ran a hand over his face. Water and sweat. Or was it still blood? What did it matter? Everything mixed the same, liquid flowing indistinctly.

His chest rose and fell with a mechanical rhythm.

Breathe. Breathe out. Nothing more.

A heart that beat only because it didn't know how to stop.

He has closed his eyes.

And for a moment, in the darkness behind his eyelids, he was unable to distinguish himself from the shadows.

The water continued to fall.

And he... he was simply there.

He doesn't know how long he stood motionless, letting the hot water run over his body.

He had to hurry to kill the dragon.

These were orders he had to obey; after all, what else could he do?

He began to dress in the clothes he had been given earlier; it was a set of all-black clothes. He had discovered years, or even decades ago, that blood was less visible on black clothes.

He left the room, his hair still dripping with water, carrying only his sword, with which he had killed so many.

Instead of hailing a carriage for a comfortable, short journey, Choi Han preferred to walk to his destination. After all, completing one mission only resulted in another; it was an endless cycle.

This time, the King forced him to at least ride, so Choi Han couldn't refuse. This had happened several times before, usually when Choi Han was sent to eliminate something that was harmful to the King.

The road to the edge of the kingdom stretched endlessly, a patchwork of jagged mountains and dense forests where the light barely managed to filter through.

The horse moved forward with heavy steps, panting, but Choi Han didn't feel tired. Nor did he feel rushed. It was an automatic movement: the reins in his hand, the monotonous sway of the back beneath his legs, the rhythmic breathing of the beast.

Sometimes, the wind blew so hard it tore leaves from the trees and threw them into the air like blades. Other times, the rain fell without warning, soaking him to the bone. And he just kept going.

He didn't remember the taste of the food they had left for him in his chambers.

He didn't remember sleeping these past few nights.

He only remembered the smell of iron, dry on the hilt of his sword.

People said dragons were monsters. That they laid waste to entire villages, reducing everything to ash.

And yet, as he ventured deeper into the mountains, all he found was silence.

No ruins.

No corpses.

No fire.

Just nothingness.

With every step, he wondered if he was walking toward another slaughterhouse, another mission that would be reduced to a briefing: “threat neutralized.”

Over and over, the same words in his head. The same ones he'd written for years.

He could almost see them, black on white, like invisible chains.

The air grew heavier as he ascended. A strange pressure seeped into his skin, as if the world itself were warning him he was entering another territory.

The forest was silent.

Too quiet, and it unsettled him.

It made him more aware of how the cold air hit his face, how his limbs were already numb from not having taken a break after mission after mission.

Not even the birds dared to sing. The fog lay like a veil over the dark trees, and each step Choi Han took sank his boots into the damp earth. His breathing was heavy, marked by days of restless travel. He had been sent to kill the creature that lived in the mountains at the edge of that land—a dragon, according to the stories.

“A monster that must be eliminated.”

That was his duty as a knight.

And yet, every time the mist thickened, he felt more and more like he was being watched. As if a colossal presence waited patiently for him to approach.

His hand trembled slightly on the hilt of his sword. Was it fear? Expectation? He doesn't think he can feel either; he stopped feeling the emotions of a human so long ago.

And he had stopped feeling fear much longer ago.

Finally, the forest opened into a clearing. There, among blackened rocks and forgotten ruins, the air itself seemed to vibrate with ancient power. And in the midst of that space… he saw it.

There was no destruction.

There were no corpses, no ashes.

The forest no longer sounded the same: the birds fell silent, the branches swayed with a deep murmur, like whispering voices.

The only constant sound was the tapping of his boots against the damp earth.

Step after step.

Mechanical.

Empty.

Until the path opened.

And the world changed.

There it was: a village.

The village greeted him like a mirage.

Small, quiet, surrounded by orchards and wildflowers that colored the edges of the path.

The air, once stifling, became lighter. The birdsong returned, soft, as if it had always been there.

Choi Han stopped.

The sun hit his sword, warm, and the laughter of children filled the air like crystal bells.

The earth smelled of fresh herbs, of bread baking in some nearby house.

Too alive.

Too human.

The colors were too vivid.

His boots were stuck in the damp earth. He couldn't remember the last time he'd stopped to contemplate something. Every time he stopped abruptly, it only caused despair and sadness, killing everyone: children, women, mothers, the elderly, men.

Was this an illusion?

A deception?

A dragon would never allow such a place to exist.

Dragons were strong, monstrously strong, arrogant and selfish; they cared nothing about humans, so this must be an illusion. He couldn't allow himself to be fooled. He had to bury those feelings that were resurfacing after so long.

'This is all a deception. These people must have been the ones who managed to escape from the nearest town and ended up dying at the hands of that damned monster.'

He tightened his grip on his sword, his knuckles tensing, gripping it so tightly they were beginning to turn white.

The silence in his heart mingled with a strange murmur, a distant echo of Harris Village, of a time he could never return to.

Situations like this reminded him that he had lost absolutely everything, that all he had left was his name and his life, not even a shred of humanity. Things like this reminded him that he had lost his home.

This illusion made him feel as if he had crossed from a withered world to a completely different one.

This couldn't be real.

The villagers worked calmly, greeting each other. They even looked at him curiously, without a trace of fear.

'Is this... what a dragon protects?'

His boots stepped onto the damp earth of the garden. The scent of the herbs, the warmth of the sun, the birdsong... It all seemed so out of place with what he had expected.

Appearances can be deceiving, he told himself.

But the peace on the people's faces was too genuine.

Choi Han made his way through the people, who seemed so happy; none of this resembled the reports he had received. This small village in the middle of the forest seemed quieter and more alive than the Roan Kingdom had been in years.

He couldn't believe it.

It must all have been an illusion created to fool him; he is a dragon, after all.

It infuriated Choi Han even more that this illusion was testing him, but even more infuriated than that was knowing that he no longer cared whether the people who had disappeared in the forest were alive or not.

He was turning into a monster.

He no longer cared about others.

He just wanted to be free again. To be happy again and turn back time to when the villagers of Harris Village were still alive.

He knew it was impossible, but still. He still wanted to feel that warmth of having a family to return to.

But what did he know about that?

His sword had taught him nothing but loneliness.

The dirt path led him toward the village, and the first thing that greeted him was not flames or ruins, but the fresh scent of orchards. Between the furrows, an old man greeted him with a slight nod. In his trembling hand, he carried a basket overflowing with fruit.

"You must be tired from the journey, young knight. Would you like some?"

Choi Han watched him, hesitant. No one offered him anything without expecting something in return. No one treated him like a common man. Nevertheless, he took the apple the old man extended.

The bite surprised him: sweet, sour, lively. He hadn't known a simple fruit could carry such a real flavor.

He continued on his way. The sounds of laughter filtered between the houses. A group of children ran past him, kicking up dust. One of them bumped into his leg and looked up, his eyes wide.

"Forgive me, sir!" he said, and instead of trembling at the sight of the sword, he smiled before running back to his friends.

Choi Han's heart gave a strange lurch. His hand was still instinctively on the hilt of his sword, but... no one looked at him as a monster. No one feared him. That laugh, light and sincere, stayed with him.

A little further ahead, the smell of freshly baked bread stopped him. Warmth escaped through the open window of a bakery. A woman arranged golden loaves on the shelves while customers chatted, laughed, and greeted each other as if they shared a common pulse of life.

Choi Han remained in the shadows, watching silently. There was a warmth there that didn't belong to his world of iron and blood.

A soft voice brought him out of his reverie. A middle-aged woman with a scarf in her hair smiled at him from the doorway of her house.

"Are you looking for Cale?"

Choi Han frowned.

"Who is Cale?"

The woman looked at him as if the answer were obvious, with such genuine gratitude that it disarmed him.

"The dragon. The one who protected us... the one who gave us this beautiful place to live."

The words echoed in his mind like an impossible sound.

A dragon... a protector.

A dragon that gave life instead of death.

…

He met him as evening fell.

In the center of the village, sitting on an old stone bench under a leafy tree, was him.

Not a winged beast, not a monster engulfed in flames.

A man.

No, not a man.

His reddish hair fell over his shoulders, gleaming in the last rays of the sun. His deep red eyes fixed on him calmly, like glowing embers in the gloom.

Choi Han tensed instantly. He took a step back without thinking. The pressure emanating from that non-human body crushed him more than any roar.

'This dragon, it's so... It's so beautiful...'

With red hair falling over His shoulders and ashen eyes piercing him coldly, there was someone who didn't fit anything Choi Han had imagined. There were no scales, no fire, no menacing roar. Just that inexplicable presence that crushed him more than any war cry.

'...So they sent another knight,' the redhead murmured in a low voice, like someone commenting on the weather. His gaze swept over him, assessing him listlessly. 'What a drag.'

The metallic clink echoed as Choi Han drew his sword. The edge gleamed, but his fingers weren't as steady as usual. There was something in the calmness of this being that disarmed him without even moving.

"Are you... the dragon?" he asked, feeling ridiculous as the words left his mouth.

A wry smile curved the dragon's lips—slow, ironic.

"And what else do you think I am? A peasant who got lost?"

The air around him shifted, taking on an invisible pressure. Choi Han swallowed, his heart pounding against his chest for the first time in years, as if to remind him that he still lived.

He was standing before something he couldn't comprehend, and yet... for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel empty.

He had seen monsters before. Creatures that devoured senselessly, leaving ashes and screams in their wake.

That being in front of him wasn't that, at least Choi Han refused to believe it.

For the first time in years, he could see an innocent smile on the children's faces; this village was everything he had failed to protect.

The memories of his destroyed village, the loneliness of wandering aimlessly, the weight of having lost everything… had turned his life into a constant, aimless forward movement. But here, facing that arrogant, distant gaze, something inside him sizzled. A reason. A direction.

The sword trembled in his hand before slowly lowering. A murmur escaped his lips, a low murmur that was barely a sigh.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said suddenly, with a certainty that surprised even him.

Cale's eyes narrowed, like embers dying in irritation.

"Pardon?"

Choi Han took another step closer. The blade of the sword pointed at the ground. Choi Han's voice cracked, but his eyes shone with a strange resolve.

"I've seen monsters before. Creatures that devour, that destroy wantonly. You... are not one of them."

Silence fell between them, so thick that even the wind caught its breath.

Finally, the dragon let out a low laugh.

"Are you really the knight sent to kill me?"

The question pierced him more than any sword.

His instinct screamed that he should brandish his weapon, carry out the order.

But he didn't.

There was something in that gaze that paralyzed him.

Not cruelty.

Not indifference.

It was as if this being truly saw him, not as a tool, not as a soldier.

For the first time in years, someone didn't treat him like a puppet.

The silence grew heavier. The wind blew dry leaves between them, but Cale didn't move. He just watched him, his expression halfway between boredom and curiosity.

Finally, the dragon snorted softly.

"What a useless knight."

The words were harsh, cutting. But far from breaking him, they ignited something in Choi Han. That cold tone, that way of treating him like nothing... it was different. No one had ever looked at him so casually since he lost everything. No one had treated him like a simple man, not a survivor, not a ghost.

Words that were meant to cut through him like blades didn't hurt him. No. They warmed him.

And in that instant, he knew.

That being—that dragon in human form—was going to be his reason.

Choi Han dropped his knee to the ground, bowing his head in a gesture of loyalty that came as naturally as breathing.

"Then let me stay by your side. Let me serve you."

A murmur of astonishment rose among the villagers watching from afar. The dragon raised an eyebrow, surprised by the gesture.

Cale looked at him, incredulous, as if he had just heard the stupidest statement in the world.

"Are you out of your mind?"

But although his voice was mocking, his expression softened slightly, imperceptibly.

"How can you say that?"

"Let me stay by your side." His voice trembled, but his gaze was firm. "I will protect this. I will protect... what you have built."

The villagers watching from afar held their breath. The dragon watched him silently, his head barely tilted. Finally, he sighed, resting his cheek on his hand with a tired gesture.

"Do what you want. I don't mind having a guard dog."

The word "dog" didn't hurt.

On the contrary, it lodged in Choi Han's chest like a gift.

A recognition.

He saw me.

And in that instant, something in him broke.

Choi Han, for the first time in a long time, smiled.

It felt like that something that was always missing, that always left him feeling empty, had finally been fulfilled.

Maybe he was just desperate for someone to understand his pain, for someone who could see his suffering and desires.

He wouldn't mind fighting thousands of soldiers, entire kingdoms, or even gods. He felt that if he followed the will of this beautiful dragon, he could reach heaven. No, this dragon that everyone had painted as a monster was just like him. Maybe that was what made him feel so comfortable.

'How long has it been since I felt like this? Ah, since Harris Village, it feels like years.'

His reddish hair fell over His shoulders, shining in the last rays of the sun. His deep red eyes fixed on him calmly, like burning embers in the gloom.

That gaze was directed at him. He didn't expect him to go on any missions.

Days passed. Choi Han remained in the village, patrolling the roads, sharpening his sword, watching the dragon from a distance. Every word, every gesture Cale gave him, he treasured. It was little, almost nothing... and yet, to him it was everything.

…

But in the capital, Alberu grew impatient.

The knight hadn't returned.

There were no reports.

It was then that he sent a squadron to take care of the dragon.

The calm of the village lasted as long as it takes a leftover to cross the light.

The murmur of voices, laughter, and everyday footsteps were suddenly broken by the metallic clang of armor and boots hitting the ground.

Soldiers.

They didn't advance with the slowness of a parade, but with the haste of hunters who already smell their prey.

Their helmets shone in the sun; The spears pointed forward like a row of fangs ready to tear.

The night they arrived, the entire village fell into a thick silence. The villagers retreated, their fear filling the air like an acrid smell. The doors closed, the windows went dark, and behind the wooden shutters, the villagers held their breath. The only sound was the metallic rattle of armor as they advanced along the stone path.

Choi Han gritted his teeth; he knew that look in the peasants' eyes: suppressed despair, the knotted terror of those who know they must run or die.

The memory of Harris Village pierced him like a knife through flesh.

Not again.

"There! The dragon is here!" the captain shouted, pointing at Cale with a mixture of hatred and greed.

Dragon.

They called him a monster, but they didn't see him. They didn't see the still air, they didn't see the calm in his red eyes. They only desired the glory and reward of killing a beast.

"Choi Han," the captain called, his voice firm, laden with authority.

The knight didn't answer.

"Move. That monster must die."

The air itself seemed to still. Not an insect dared to break the silence. Only the beating of the wind against the wood, and the touch of Choi Han's hands tensing on the hilt of his sword.

His eyes, cold, steady, finally lifted.

"No."

It was a whisper... but it resounded like thunder.

"Last chance. Step aside!"

Choi Han bowed his head slightly, like someone paying respect to a dead man before burying him.

And then, the silence was broken by the metallic scream of steel sliding out of its scabbards.

Choi Han's sword rose, shining brightly. His pulse pounded in his temples.

The first soldier charged.

The clash was brutal, steel against steel, a crash that shook the earth. Choi Han spun, his arm following the instinct trained by years of loneliness and desperation as he tried to survive. The blade sliced through the enemy armor, leaving behind a scream and splattering blood that stained the earth.

Each crunch of iron sharpened the tension in the air.

The villagers screamed.

The village, so peaceful seconds before, was filled with the metallic stench of blood and the roar of falling bodies.

Another soldier tried to take advantage of their distraction. Choi Han felt the blade graze his shoulder, searing his flesh. The pain anchored him, made him move faster. With a flick of his wrist, the blade of his sword sliced through the air, then the enemy's throat.

The first charge was brutal. The clash of swords shook the air, sparks flying in every direction. Choi Han moved with lethal precision, as if each blow had been rehearsed a thousand times in his mind.

The heat of blood arrived soon. It stained his hands, hot and sticky, sliding down his wrist until it soaked his sleeve. The iron smelled of copper, of fresh death, and with each ragged breath, his gaze grew wilder.

A slash caught him across the face, and the heat lanced across his cheek. He felt the red trickle run down his skin, mingling with his sweat. The metallic taste seeped to his lips, and yet, he smiled.

He wasn't fighting for the kingdom.

Not for the king.

Not even for himself.

His sword stained itself only for him.

For the dragon.

For Cale.

Every blow was a plea.

Every corpse that fell was an offering.

The clash of metal echoed like a religious chant, a bloody ceremony. And all the while, from the threshold of the village, Cale watched.

He didn't lift a finger to help.

Not a word of encouragement, not a command.

He simply watched, with his calm, red eyes glowing like embers. As if judging whether that knight was worthy of continuing to breathe at his side.

His breathing became an irregular rhythm: gasp, cut, blow, gasp.

Every movement was desperate, but steady. Every fallen soldier was a reminder that, though he had fled from monsters, he had also become one when necessary.

Blood. Screams. The metallic echo of war.

He had the last soldier still standing before him.

The last man faltered at the sight of him covered in blood, with eyes as dark as a bottomless abyss.

Choi Han emanated an aura that made anyone rational run away immediately, and his entire clothes and face were soaked with the blood of his enemies—former comrades—so he didn't want to get closer. He couldn't get closer, or they'd kill him.

Choi Han didn't give him time to plead. The cut was clean and cold, and the body fell to the damp earth.

His cloak flapped in the icy wind, and his unsheathed sword shone a beautiful scarlet in the moonlight. The blade caught silver glints, as if it was eager to drink more blood.

The battle ended as quickly as it began.

The earth was strewn with bodies, the ground soaked in dark pools that reflected the moon. The edge of Choi Han's sword was still stained with blood. It wasn't his own. Not yet.

He panted, his shoulders heaving with each breath. His hands trembled with exertion, his chest burned, and the wound on his face continued to ooze drops that marked the stone with a crimson trail.

Silence returned.

A heavy silence, only broken by the muffled sobs of the villagers and the slow drip of blood from the blade of his sword.

Choi Han remained still, his chest heaving, as the adrenaline began to recede.

It wasn't glory.

It wasn't victory.

It was just survival.

A calm, almost bored voice rose from behind him.

"You're doing a good job for a human."

He turned his head.

Cale was sitting on the same bench as before, as if the attack had never happened, as if the blood and bodies were nothing more than dust in the wind. He watched him with narrowed eyes, without a hint of fear.

The red dragon's gaze was directed only at him.

Only at him.

Choi Han knelt down, the metallic sound of his sword hitting the ground echoing like the beginning of a ritual. The echoes spread through the empty village, solemn, inevitable.

Cale looked down on him, not moving, calmly. His fingers played with a strand of his own dark hair as if it were all just a passing distraction.

"Look at you..." His voice sounded dry, mocking, cutting through the air with indifference. You can barely stand, and yet you insist on staying.

Choi Han's bloody cheek rested against his knee, staining it red. A crooked, broken smile appeared on his lips.

"As long as I can remain by your side... nothing else matters."

The dragon's hand descended slowly, resting on his head. A minimal, almost negligent gesture, which to anyone else would mean nothing. But to Choi Han, it was absolute. An eternal pact.

That touch was more real than any king's command.

Warmer than a lifetime of indifference.

"Then live, knight," Cale ordered, emotionless. "Live and kill for me."

The weapon fell from his fingers, a hollow thud against the stone. An offering. A surrender.

"Yes, my lord."

The echo of those words mingled with the dripping of his blood, marking the earth like sacred ink. In his mind, that moment was etched as the only one in which someone accepted him unconditionally.

Even if He was using him.

Even if he was nothing more than a pawn.