Creak—
As the door swung open, the stairway leading to the underground space was revealed. The interior was far larger than it looked from the outside—thanks to an expansion enchantment Fischer had carved at the door. It was a costly, time-consuming magic, and expanding four rooms like this cost more than buying a house on Central Avenue in proper Saint Nary.
But the benefits were obvious. Fischer now had a portable mini-house attached to his carriage, allowing him to avoid camping out in the wild with five dragonkin while traveling across the Southern Continent.
Cane in hand, he walked into the lower space. He nearly chuckled when he saw the five dragonkin girls squatting at the edge of the living area like a bunch of chicks—but the amusement vanished when he met Raphaëlle’s clear emerald gaze.
If it were true—if this girl before him really was the foretold Crimson Dragon Queen destined to destroy the human world... what was he supposed to do?
He could kill her now. That might work. But Fischer couldn’t be certain that this young dragon girl named Raphaëlle was the one from the prophecy. Was he supposed to exterminate every red-scaled dragonkin just to be sure?
He suddenly remembered one of the satirical plays at the Saint Nary Grand Theatre—the one where a royal astrologer predicted a blonde man would one day kill the king and seize the throne. So, the king ordered every blond man in the country killed. As fate would have it, the queen gave birth to a blond child and secretly hid him away. In trying to prevent the prophecy, the king ensured its fulfillment—he was ultimately slain by his own son.
Fate is a cruel, self-fulfilling thing. No matter how you choose, it feels wrong. Fischer couldn''t bring himself to wipe out all red dragonkin—even if they were rare.
What if the “Crimson Dragon Queen” was actually a blue dragonkin who liked wearing red clothes?
“Take the bedding into the open room. You’ll be staying there for now.”
At that, the dragonkin girls'' expressions completely changed.
Since being captured and dragged across the Southern Continent, none of them had ever met a human who could speak Draconian.
Part of that was because humans hadn’t been exploring the Southern Continent for long. The rest was pure arrogance—humans saw demi-humans as beasts. Why would they ever bother learning their language?
Fischer’s gaze swept over them, and the girls instinctively averted their eyes—except Raphaëlle, who kept watching him. In truth, she was just as shocked—more so, even.
The previous slavers could beat or torture her, but none had ever truly frightened her. They only bullied her because of the slave mark on her chest. But this human—this man who could speak dragon—was the first to make her feel genuine fear and wariness.
If he was this capable... could she still escape with the others?
Without realizing it, she clutched at her chest, where the faint glow of her slave mark shimmered. A cold chill crept through her soul like ice water.
“...Wait. You four go get the bedding. You—come with me.”
He pointed directly at Raphaëlle, then opened the door to the first room on the left with his cane.
Raphaëlle glanced at Larr, saw the worried looks from her companions, and shook her head. Then she followed Fischer into the room alone.
The space inside was wide—about the size of both the living room and their sleeping area combined. It had a wardrobe, an entire wall of books (all written in human script, which she couldn’t read), a clean bed, a coat rack, and a spacious writing desk.
It was clearly this human’s personal quarters.
Bang!
With a flick of his cane, Fischer shut the door behind her. Raphaëlle didn''t flinch, but her tail rose slightly, signaling her vigilance.
“Names. Yours and the others.”
The tall man set his cane beside the desk, removed his hat and jacket, and hung them neatly on the coat rack. Underneath, he wore a luxurious yet understated dark gray waistcoat. Raphaëlle had seen the fat man at the circus wear something similar, but his grotesque body had ruined the look. Now, for the first time, she realized what this kind of clothing was actually meant to look like.
“Raphaëlle... Larr, Fassil, Cachil, and Mir.”
Fischer poured himself a glass of cold coffee, then pulled out the slave contract scrolls that Colin had given him. Runes etched with magic glowed faintly on the parchment. He examined the dragonkin blood sigils closely, then pulled out the scroll that burned with the brightest, hottest red.
As he moved it, the slave mark on Raphaëlle’s chest glowed in response.
“Let me introduce myself. I’m Fischer Benavides, a scholar of demi-human studies. You can call me Fischer, or teacher, or professor...”
He spoke calmly as he suddenly tore Raphaëlle’s scroll in half.
She didn’t even react at first. But the moment the magical contract mark that had bound her soul shattered—
In the blink of an eye, her pupils narrowed to slits. Her tail lashed forward with a sharp burst of wind, aiming straight for Fischer.
Kill him, and the slave mark would be gone.
Raphaëlle didn’t understand the technical workings of slave marks, but she knew how magic flowed—and how to disrupt it.
Her claws extended like five blades, plunging toward his heart. In the next second, she’d gut this human and feast on his corpse in revenge.
Everything she’d suffered. The pain. Her dream to bring her friends home—
But before she could finish, Fischer casually shifted his body. His hand shot out like a vice and grabbed her by the neck, lifting her clean off the ground and slamming her hard into the floor.
Boom!
The wooden floor cracked. Magic sparks danced between the splinters. Agonizing pain radiated through Raphaëlle’s body like it had been dismantled.
She tried to fight back. Her claws twitched to strike—but Fischer’s grip tightened. She couldn’t even breathe.
This man... was a monster.
Why was he so strong?
Her emerald eyes locked onto him. Beneath his calm, expressionless face, she saw a devil lurking. Her ears rang from the pressure and the pain. Even her tail trembled.
Outside, the shuffling of the others stopped. But no one opened the door. Fischer hadn’t locked it.
“I hate being interrupted when I speak,” Fischer said. “So I had no choice. I hope that left an impression.”
He still gripped her neck but loosened his hold enough for a bit of air.
“I bought you for... research.”
He paused.
“Magic interference compromises the results, so I removed your slave mark. Of course, I don’t mind playing a little game along the way—like, say, letting the subject try to kill me for freedom. But if you run or resist, I’ll kill your companions.”
“Cough... khh!”
Raphaëlle’s saliva dribbled uncontrollably down her chin, dripping onto Fischer’s hand. Her head rang like a bell. Even so, she glared at him with feral hatred. The breaking of the mark had unleashed her suppressed fury.
She would kill this man—even if it meant dying in the process!
“The rules are simple,” he continued.
“First, no assassinations inside the carriage. Outside, anything goes—poison, ambush, duel—if you kill me, you’ll be free, and you can take your companions with you. After all, everything here’s expensive.”
He glanced at the cracked magical floor and his eyelid twitched slightly.
“Second, you get four assassination attempts—one for each of your friends. Plan wisely. Every failure means punishment. Most of my research is standard, but since it''s research, some parts... can’t exactly be published. If you fail, you’ll assist me with those.”
“Third, this game stays secret. The moment you tell your companions, the game ends.”
His voice cut through the ringing in her ears like a devil’s whisper. She gritted her teeth. If looks could kill, Fischer would be dead a thousand times.
“Agree, and the game begins now.”
Her crimson tail twitched slightly. After a moment of silence, her eyes moved subtly—agreement.
She had to agree. He still held the slave marks of her companions. It was her fault they got captured. She had to bring them home.
“Heh...” Fischer finally cracked a smile. He released her throat, stood, and returned to the desk to sip his cold coffee.
“We’ve got about thirty days on the road. The game will last the entire journey...”
Raphaëlle rose on trembling legs, her emerald eyes blazing. She rubbed her sore neck and forced her expression to calm.
Outside, the horses neighed faintly. Stars flickered across the sky. The wind of the Southern Continent picked up once more—
As if blowing the first note of a deadly game.