Monsters Wag Their Tails Only at Me

Walking in step with Margon was nothing new, yet our footsteps through the forest felt unbearably awkward.

Margon, who had clung to me and burst into tears only moments ago, was now drowning in embarrassment after regaining control of his emotions.

And I, who had gotten swept up in his feelings and hugged him while comforting him, wanted to bite my tongue and die.

We desperately pretended not to notice each other as we walked. Awkward blushes lingered faintly across both our stiff faces.

By the time we emerged from the forest and neared the rebel base, someone suddenly let out a startled shriek.

"Fuck! What the hell?!"

The one who cried out in horror was Theo.

His face twisted as he looked back and forth between me and Margon. Then he thrust out a finger and started wildly pointing at us.

"W-What, what, what is this?! What the hell happened to you two?! Why are you coming back looking like that?!"

"What are you talking about?"

I answered curtly, unable to understand his reaction. Theo immediately started shouting louder, practically spraying spit.

"What do you mean, why?! You two disappeared somewhere alone together, all cozy and quiet... and now you're both coming back red as hell!"

At the ridiculous accusation, both Margon and I frowned at the same time.

Then we simultaneously kicked at Theo and cursed him out.

"You bastard, what kind of bullshit are you spewing?!"

"How dare you say something so disrespectful...!"

Even while getting beaten from both sides, Theo widened his eyes stubbornly. His accusing finger remained raised the entire time.

"Look at this! You still can't even look at each other! What happened between you two?!"

"Ah, damn it, it's not like that!"

"Then what is it like?! Ceryl, you! Leaving your dragon lover behind to do who knows what—"

Theo's nonsense was abruptly cut off by an icy voice.

"What exactly did he do behind my back?"

There was no doubt Varen had infused mana into his voice. The moment he spoke, all three humans froze solid.

Our stiff necks turned backward.

There stood a grim reaper with dazzling golden hair.

"Move aside, humans."

Varen strode forward, roughly shoving Morpha and Theo aside before wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

He started dragging me away by force, only to halt abruptly and whip back around.

After glaring at Margon like he wanted to kill him, he snorted toward Theo.

"What a ridiculous misunderstanding. Ceryl likes cute men."

"..."

"Idiot."

With a single sentence, Varen dealt both of them a blow at once.

Margon apparently wasn't cute, and Theo was apparently stupid.

And just like that, I got hauled away with Varen gripping my shoulders. He didn't even seem to have a destination in mind. He simply marched farther and farther away from Margon.

When I realized he was heading back toward the forest again, I burst out laughing and stopped him.

"Varen, stop. Where are you even going?"

"Somewhere I can be alone with you."

"That's impossible anywhere around here. Unless we go back to the tent."

"Should we go to the tent?"

"No. It's still broad daylight."

"Since when did we start caring about day or night?"

Well, considering we'd done very adult things the moment we woke up this morning, he wasn't wrong.

Still, there was no way I could roll around with Varen twice in one day, so I patted his ass to calm him down.

At my touch, Varen immediately slowed his pace.

Then he looked down at me with noticeably softened eyes.

That deep gaze slowly swept across every inch of my face.

"Ceryl, it's not that I doubt you, but..."

"Starting a sentence like that already sounds like doubt."

"No. I trust you. But..."

It sounded like he was about to dig into something that didn't even need explaining, so I slipped out from under the arm wrapped around my shoulders.

At that exact moment, two middle-aged women hurried past behind us.

"Oh dear, at this rate the storage is going to be emptied out."

"Seriously, only the Drunkard could drink like this. How much does he have to pour down his throat before he's satisfied?"

The conversation instantly caught my attention.

I turned sharply toward them.

The women, arms full of liquor bottles, were heading toward the Drunkard's tent.

I grabbed Varen's hand and followed after them. I had already been wondering how the Drunkard was doing.

But a young man was standing guard at the tent entrance. He stretched out one arm to block people from entering.

"Just leave them here. I'll pass them along."

The man spoke in a voice soaked with exhaustion.

The women grumbled, but obediently handed over the bottles anyway.

"Tell him to slow down a little. We're almost out of alcohol now."

"As if he's the type to listen."

"It's honestly amazing. How does he survive drinking day and night without eating anything?"

The rebels continued chatting casually among themselves.

Standing behind them, I cautiously stepped forward and asked the guard,

"Excuse me, I'd like to go inside. Could we meet Lord Drunkard?"

Only then did the man look at me and Varen.

He weakly shook his head while taking the liquor bottles from the women.

"He said absolutely no visitors right now."

As he spoke, he cracked open the tent flap slightly.

The moment he placed the bottles into a basket sitting nearby, the suddenly heavy basket floated up through the air and disappeared deeper inside the tent.

After finishing his task, the guard shut the entrance again and resumed standing in front of it.

There was no need to cause unnecessary trouble, so I simply nodded and stepped back obediently.

But then a scream burst out from inside the tent.

"AAAAAGH! Ghh—ugh, ughhh!!"

Someone inside was screaming like they were being tortured.

When I stared with wide eyes, the guard merely shrugged as if it were nothing.

"They've been like that since yesterday, but they're still alive. Don't worry."

"...Since yesterday? Constantly?"

The moment we returned from the Aylos estate, we'd entrusted Milo and Days to the Drunkard.

His task was to locate the connection tying the two together and unravel the magic binding them.

Of course I knew it wouldn't be easy...

"AAAAAAAGH!! AAAAAAH!!!"

But I hadn't expected a scene filled with screams like this.

I stared blankly at the tent entrance while trying to figure out whose voice it was.

The screams were too loud to be timid Milo's, yet too rough to belong to gentle Days.

"...He's not going to kill the kids like this, right?"

The words slipped out unconsciously.

Beside me, Varen tilted his head.

Looking at my profile, he asked with genuine curiosity,

"Kids? Those humans are children to you as well?"

"Ah..."

Only then did I realize my slip of the tongue.

Embarrassed, I awkwardly scratched my cheek.

"No, well... Milo is Leibin's younger brother. That makes him my younger brother too."

"And the other one?"

"That one is..."

I trailed off as I thought about Days.

There wasn't much of Days in Ceryl's memories.

And even those memories mostly consisted of him shrinking beside Phiren.

Still, maybe it was because he'd seen him since childhood.

Or maybe it was because Phiren had endlessly hammered the phrase Days is younger than you into his head.

"I don't know. For some reason, Days feels like a kid to me too."

I smacked my lips lightly as I spoke.

He was Phiren's son, but I didn't particularly hate Days. Sometimes, very occasionally, he'd even looked at Ceryl with pity.

And when I thought about it, he was another victim of Phiren just like me.

Maybe that was why I felt a faint sense of kinship.

As I scratched my cheek awkwardly and fell into thought, Varen let out a small sigh.

"So blood ties really are unavoidable."

I frowned at the expression.

Technically, Days was indeed the only remaining living blood relative of the ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) Lavier family besides Ceryl himself.

He was also Ceryl's cousin.

But we definitely weren't close enough for a sentimental word like family.

I waved my hand dismissively and turned away from the tent.

"I told you before. I've never thought of them as family."

"For someone saying that, you seem pretty worried."

Varen answered with a faint smirk.

Meanwhile, more agonized screaming continued spilling out from inside the tent.

I shivered and shot Varen a glare.

"If someone screams like that, anybody would worry even if they were complete strangers."

"Would they?"

Varen answered shortly, one eyebrow twitching upward.

It was a gesture that clearly said he disagreed.

I almost argued further, but stopped myself.

Because honestly, Varen wasn't entirely wrong.

As the original Ceryl's personality and mine continued blending together, it felt like I was getting softer with every passing day.

Worrying about someone getting hurt.

Wanting to comfort someone who was crying.

Those emotions used to be incredibly rare for me.

"Haah... I don't even know anymore."

This unintentional change in my personality wasn't exactly pleasant.

Fatigue suddenly crashed over me, and I rubbed at my eyes.

At that moment, hurried footsteps came from inside the tent.

Varen and I turned simultaneously.

The entrance flap burst open, and the Drunkard stumbled outside.

"Huff... huff... haaah..."

The Drunkard had already looked old the first time I met him, but now he seemed at least ten years older.

Seeing him looking as though he could collapse at any second made my brows tighten automatically.

"Are you alright?"

"Huff... not... at all..."

The Drunkard wiped the sweat from his forehead with one hand.

A red smear remained where his hand passed.

I stared at it with frozen eyes before asking hesitantly,

"That... whose blood is that?"

The Drunkard shoved the liquor bottle in his hand against his mouth and gulped it down greedily.

Then he waved the bloodstained hand dismissively.

"Ah, it's nothing important. Don't worry about it."

"..."

How the hell am I supposed to not worry about that?

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!