Evil Dragon, Without a Princess, I Had to Transform Myself!

Chapter 111 : The Magician

Is death the heaviness pressed by immense drowsiness, or the weightlessness of a liberated soul?

Elaphia did not know.

The lamp at the tail end of her consciousness, like a speeding carriage fading into the distance, gradually accelerated, growing smaller and smaller until it was swallowed by the depths of the night. Only the sound of wind rustling through the birch forest remained behind.

There was no light, no warmth—only endless darkness and cold.

In her haze, it seemed someone spoke to her, but she could not make out the words. She did not know how long she had slept. Gradually, the silhouette of a girl appeared before her eyes.

She wandered through a chaotic void when a thick white mist surged forth—so profound, so unfathomable. Elaphia struggled to catch up, to see the girl’s face clearly, yet she could never grasp her form. Everything before her seemed to flicker between existence and illusion.

She chased relentlessly, but just as her fingers brushed the girl’s sleeve, a tremendous force repelled her. A powerful pull yanked her back from the brink of death.

Guided by this force, her heartbeat gradually regained its rhythm, and her breathing steadied.

She opened her eyes and saw a beam of light.

"..."

Elaphia found herself lying in a bed surrounded by heaps of flowers—neatly arranged, half pale white, half light black, blooming vigorously and delicately.

Of course, if she were to pull the sheets over her head and place a black-and-white photograph at the head of the bed, the scene would be perfect.

The surroundings were quite tranquil. Afternoon sunlight filled the room, and leaning against the wall opposite the bed was someone gazing out the window.

It was Loranhir.

Elaphia watched her silently, saying nothing. She did not know if this was the afterlife or yet another dream.

"I thought you were done for," Loranhir suddenly said.

Loranhir had initially considered a few polite remarks, like "How are you feeling?" or "Anything feel off?" or "It’s so good you’re alive," but upon reflection, she decided such condolences were better left to the princess herself.

"What is this?" Elaphia pointed at the flowers.

"Flowers for a funeral, though they can serve another purpose," Loranhir said casually. "But I won’t tell you now—it’s a surprise."

"What happened to me? Why am I..." Elaphia stared at her hands. Her heart beat fiercely and persistently, the flowing blood warm and responsive, moving slowly yet irresistibly, ceaselessly.

"I don’t know. I have no idea what happened," Loranhir stated bluntly. "Perhaps you were just lucky? After all, the idea that a thrall dies with their master is merely recorded in texts. And Elaphia, you’ve never actually seen it happen, have you?"

"…Is that so?" Elaphia hesitated. She still found it hard to believe she had miraculously recovered from her previous frail, near-death state.

Loranhir offered no further explanation, her gaze lingering on the princess beside her.

At that moment, Patunasankus was quietly curled up on the solid wooden bench beside the sickbed—a place hardly conducive to comfortable sleep—holding her knees, like a weary kitten, her long eyelashes resting peacefully.The fur quivered like an exquisite embroidery needle dissolved in a winter lakeside, trembling intermittently with the rhythm of slumbering breaths.

Loranhir truly knew nothing, yet she understood this clearly concerned the Princess and Elaphia being alone together. Still, she had no intention of speaking of it.

If it was the Princess's secret, she was willing to consciously choose ignorance.

Should the Princess wish to tell her, she would simply listen as commanded.

There was no need to remain perpetually sensitive—sometimes dullness was a virtue.

After all, the Princess's motives for treating others well were unclear. Perhaps she didn't mean harm but rather acted out of fondness.

This was what Loranhir had always believed.

She had once asked herself: what was most worthy of affection about the Princess? Her beauty?

Well, that was passable. Her intelligence?

She knew even less about that.

Truthfully, she didn't understand the Princess at all—so why did the Princess's presence hold such importance to them?

Why did the Princess appear so frequently in her dreams?

Loranhir didn't dwell on the answer. It might be perfect or broken, but ultimately it mattered little.

To her, the Princess would always be her Princess, and that was enough.

"The Princess hasn't slept for a full day and night, waiting here for you to wake up," Loranhir said as she tucked the blanket around Patunasankus.

…Elaphia gazed at Patunasankus's sleeping face. That soft, sweet form seemed perpetually curled in shadow, with drifting sensations everywhere.

"She's truly worried about you," Loranhir remarked casually. "Don't run off without a word next time."

"Isn't she adorable?" Loranhir whispered to Elaphia.

"Yes," Elaphia replied softly.

"Just like a magician."

"A magician?" Elaphia pondered for a moment.

"From a certain perspective, yes. For instance, she excels at making my heart race wildly. And she seems to possess the power to bring a blissful smile to my cheeks."

She gently closed her eyes.

"Rather than being charmed, it's more like having a girl like her is akin to having a magician."

"Truth be told."

"Could it be otherwise?" Elaphia said.

Yet the current feeling seemed as unreal as an illusion.

She looked out the window—the sky was a vast, all-embracing azure, the forest lush and green, the sunlight exceptionally brilliant. Golden rays pierced through equally dazzling leaves to fall upon bare branches.

Dazzling, her eyes stung slightly with dryness.

"By the way," Loranhir patted Elaphia's shoulder, "isn't today your first day of complete freedom after breaking away from your master?"

"What about it?"

"Happy birthday, my friend." Loranhir personally presented her with a bouquet—a large arrangement of white lilies and baby's breath, so beautiful it turned heads, carrying the fragrance of life.

"......"

Elaphia accepted the flowers, but before she could voice her gratitude, hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor outside.

"Payment!!!" The doorframe screamed as it was shoved open, and Shatina burst in, swinging the door wide. "You used me and don't want to pay?!"

"…Used... her?" Elaphia's gaze shifted between the two. "What happened between you?""Hey hey hey, don't say things that could be so easily misunderstood!" Loranhir pressed a finger to her lips, signaling Shatina to lower her voice - the Princess was still sleeping.

"What do you mean?" Shatina blinked, then understood. "Oh I get it—you're clearly trying to get free service, aren't you?"

"No, no," Loranhir waved her hands frantically toward Elaphia before turning back to Shatina, "Anyway, keep your voice down. Don't act like such a ruffian."

"I'll be loud if I want! I'll make noise! I'll defend workers' rights to the death!" Shatina gave a thumbs-down gesture. "Just say whether you'll pay or not."

"I'll pay, I'll pay—wait, that still sounds weird. Please don't phrase things so ambiguously!"

"Mutual consent, legitimate transaction—what's the problem?" Shatina put her hands on her hips.

"Please, could you not talk like that?" Loranhir covered her face. "Elaphia, don't misunderstand, I didn't do anything."

"I understand, I understand."

What Elaphia felt was a lighthearted joy, almost like laughter. A gentle cheerfulness temporarily overcame her pain and emptiness.

A brilliant, radiant smile flashed across her face.

She began laughing intermittently.

The laughter was melodious, like a string of silver bells chiming together.

"Mmm..." Patunasankus murmured, the rising and falling noise finally disturbing her beautiful dream.

She rubbed her eyes and, after waking up, silently watched the others.

Nobody dared to breathe loudly.

Elaphia: "..."

Loranhir: "..."

Shatina: "..."

Patunasankus lazily stretched.

"I'm hungry," she said expressionlessly.

"I'll start the fire." Loranhir wiped her sweat and walked out carrying the holy sword.

"I'll go hunting." Elaphia rolled out of bed.

"I... I'll wait for the meal." Shatina timidly followed behind them.

Watching their hurried, noisy retreating figures, Patunasankus chuckled softly. Then she lifted her head to look out the window, her face wearing a happy, brilliant yet mischievous and comfortable smile.

She stood up and leisurely walked out as well.

Patunasankus moved through the corridor like a shadow, kicking a stone that made an empty, echoing sound, like ripples spreading across a heart's lake.

Imagining the space and time she passed through, footprints that might eventually be buried in wind and dust, figures in memories that might one day fade away with the flow of time.

Yet those past moments would always be filled with warmth that pierced through the vicissitudes when remembered.

So this should have been the time for the false princess to leave, but when she woke up at this moment...

The party not only had a useless hero and a little vampire, but now also had a little witch.

Latifa would probably like this, definitely.

She enjoys lively company.

And she herself would come to like it too.

Because the image of herself in their hearts was the person she wanted to become.

○

Leaves like fern fronds trembled in the wind, their delicate blue silhouettes standing scattered among the rubble and bloodstains.

Feeling the dry, hot air left by the Black Death's Dragon Fire, examining the marks left by claws and dragon bodies in the ruins, Liulan walked casually through the streets as if in a post-apocalyptic scene.Her back was slightly bent, her shoulders somewhat heavy.

After walking for a while, she came to a halt.

"Patuna, tell me, going to such lengths for a counterfeit—this isn’t the you I used to know, no."

"This matter clearly has nothing to do with you."

"Patuna, is a counterfeit really that good?"

Liulan gazed up at the dilapidated clock tower and slowly sat down on the ground, reminiscing about her close friend, the princess, and the times they had shared.

There were many messy memories: after the earth-shattering battle cries, she and Patuna would tend to each other’s wounds and scales; Patuna complaining about the two of them always curling up together to sleep at night; Patuna disdainful of her obsession with collecting princesses and her deliberate, teasing provocations—all trivial matters, utterly meaningless. If there were anything more intimate, she felt there had been very little since the princess.

Perhaps it was knowing full well that someone disliked her, yet still seizing every opportunity to make an appearance before them, all for the faint hope of a "what if?"

Liulan patted her cheeks, a faint smile and a soft sigh meeting at the corners of her lips.

"Five hundred years… could it really be five hundred years?" Liulan finally felt sorrow, a profound sense of powerlessness. She wanted to slowly crouch down or simply lie still and not move.

Liulan claimed she didn’t care about any of this.

In truth, she didn’t think any of it mattered much. Spending her days teasing the princesses in the exhibition area by day and studying by lamplight at night which princesses on the continent were worth capturing—wasn’t that a perfectly fine way to live?

If her future life continued like this, it wouldn’t be so bad.

It wouldn’t be so bad.

Maybe she was being a bit greedy, or perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but Liulan longed for two things she was destined never to have: to return both of them to the way they were when they first met.

Patuna should be napping lazily in the warm afternoon sun, serene and tranquil, while Latifa leaned against her gleaming dark scales, reading celebrated poems and stories, experiencing through others’ eyes things she had never seen before. Occasionally, when she reached an exciting part, she would pound Patuna’s scales enthusiastically, sharing her joy…

Liulan didn’t understand why some memories had to remain so vivid. Yet, whenever she sat with them in the afternoon sunlight, quietly closing her eyes, time would flow by gently and intimately.

But the world was changing, constantly moving in contradictory motion, the new replacing the old. Once things changed, they could never return to how they were before.

This was the situation she found herself in now.

Such is life! Life changes, days move forward, and she ought to change along with them, not linger hesitantly in place.

But suddenly, she felt so unbearably unwilling.

"A counterfeit is still better than nothing at all." Liulan opened the Evil Dragon Yearbook she always carried with her, struggling to turn past the page about Latifa.

"Is that what you think too… Patuna?" Liulan looked up at the sky and let out a long sigh. She lowered her gaze, her eyes resting on the next page, on someone whose face bore a striking resemblance to Latifa’s.

"Yanis Flandoya." Liulan softly spoke her name. "Perhaps… I should learn to give it a try too."Liulan lifted her head, rubbing her dejected face.

"...To find a counterfeit," Liulan murmured softly.