"Hello, is it fine if I share a table with you?"
The sudden voice pulled me out of my focus. I had been slouched comfortably, gnawing on a thick marrow bone, my scroll propped against the side of my bucket. I had almost forgotten the thing existed until I started fiddling with it again out of boredom.
My ears flicked up, catching the words before I even bothered to raise my eyes. With deliberate laziness, I tilted my head upward and found myself staring into a pair of bright red eyes.
The girl standing there was… striking. Her hair was a bold red-orange, like embers caught in sunlight, falling in slightly messy strands that framed her face. Her cheeks were rounded, her lips small, almost delicate, but her gaze burned sharper than her soft features suggested. She wasn't tall—maybe a head shorter than me, around a meter sixty—but she carried herself like someone who believed she had the right to stand out.
And then, of course, there was the dragon tail. The long, red-scaled tail swayed lazily behind her as if it had a life of its own. It gave her away before anything else.
I narrowed my eyes briefly and tried to use my analysis skill out of habit—only to feel the dull thud of a blocker stone. Hn. Clever. I didn't require any analysis to sense her presence. Her aura seeped off her body like slow heat from a forge. Strong. Stronger than the average Dragonoid I'd crossed paths with. But still… when I compared her to Mom? She was just an ant before a mountain.
I leaned back in my seat, the bone still hanging between my teeth. "That would be fine. I got bonely anyways," I said flatly.
No reaction.
I flicked my ear, disappointed, and crunched down on the bone with a casual snap. "Guess if you don't mind me eating bones, we can share the table."
"I don't mind," she said, nodding slightly.
She moved with a calmness that was almost… too practiced. Like she wanted me to notice how unbothered she was. I clicked my tongue quietly and began pushing aside the clutter of my table—half-picked bones, an empty tankard, and plates stacked crookedly.
"Sorry," I muttered, stacking another plate on top of the leaning tower, "they haven't come and cleaned the table in a while."
"That's okay. Thank you." Her voice was polite but light—like she didn't care one way or another. She slipped into the chair across from me, her tail curling neatly around her side before dropping with a quiet thump against the wood.
I didn't reply. If she wanted silence, she could have it. I turned my attention back to the scroll, pretending to be absorbed in the glowing runes flickering across its surface.
For a few minutes, only the clinking of cutlery and the chatter of other patrons filled the air between us. The tavern wasn't rowdy yet, but a constant murmur of voices, footsteps, and the faint strum of a bard's lute bled into the background.
Then, her voice again:
"Ooh, is that the new scroll that came out last week?"
I didn't even look up. "I have no idea, really. Got this job today. So, most likely." I spoke with the bone still jutting from my mouth, not bothering to sound polite.
"If you're struggling to use it, I can help you."
That made me pause. Slowly, I raised my eyes from the scroll, narrowing them at her. "And why would I ask a stranger to help me with something like this?"
She smiled faintly. Too faintly. Like the kind of smile you practiced in a mirror until it looked convincing. "Wow. Now that I see your eyes—they look scary."
My ears twitched. I sucked on the bone once before shrugging. "If you say so."
The fake smile didn't budge. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, strands of ember-red hair slipping across her cheek. "What's your name, even, foxy?"
"Nova," I said without hesitation, chewing idly. "And yours?"
"Kayda."
I let the name roll in my mind once before giving her a nod. "What a unique name."
"I can say the same to you," she said smoothly.
Before I could answer, the blond waitress swung by with a tray. "Sorry, Kayda, we're quite busy today."
Kayda waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. You should know by now I'm not concerned about waiting. "And Nova is here in good company."
I turned to her sharply, narrowing my eyes again. She met them without a flinch. The way she sat there, utterly relaxed, tail swaying, lips curved faintly—it didn't match the Dragonoids I knew. They were usually sharp-edged, quick to bristle, and dripping with pride.
Her carefree act threw me. This left me with two possibilities: either she was impossibly strong, or she wasn't a Dragonoid at all.
I chewed that thought as she finally finished her order and leaned back, folding her arms. Her fake smile returned, irritating me.
"You aren't a Dragonoid, are you?" I said bluntly, eyes boring into hers.
She blinked once, then let out a laugh. "Haha, no way you'd just say that." Her grin turned mischievous, eyes narrowing with interest.
"Haah." I sighed, leaning forward, resting my chin in my palm. "It's obvious. Your attitude doesn't fit. And you aren't stronger than my mother. So that leaves only two options: you're faking being a Dragonoid, or you're a pure dragon. If you tried to fake it, you did a poor job—you forgot the wings. So that leaves pure dragon. It must be a young dragon, since you don't have any older ones yet.
I jabbed my finger in her direction for emphasis.
Her grin faltered—just slightly—before she chuckled again.
Most people think dragonoids and dragons are the same, but they couldn't be more different. Dragons lived thousands of years, making them patient and detached. Dragonoids lived shorter, fiercer lives—impatient, prideful, and quick to anger. Dragons were prideful too, but not impulsive. Dragonoids? They could tear down a city just because someone looked at them funny.
The one exception was royals, who actually knew how to think before acting. But all of them—every last one—still hated being commanded by other races. That was just ingrained.
Dragonoids grew their wings with their class. Dragons only gained theirs by meeting certain conditions—things like fully accepting themselves or, according to Mom, finding a soulmate who accepted them. But knowing Mom, that might've been a story she spun to make me laugh.
Kayda tilted her head, the smirk never leaving her lips. "Haha, is that so? Not stronger than your mother? Well, not surprising, seeing as you're a demon fox. But I am an Elemental Sage. I wouldn't say I'm completely out of the running."
I caught the edge of anger in her voice beneath the playfulness. She didn't like me dismissing her.
I chewed my bone slowly, then shook my head. "Hmm, no, you are. There's no way you'd win against her. Your aura's way weaker."
Her anger vanished instantly, replaced with interest. Her eyes gleamed as if I'd just dangled a secret in front of her nose. That—more than anything—confirmed what I suspected. She wasn't normal.
"You can see someone's aura?" she asked.
"No," I said simply, "I can feel it."
The truth was, I didn't really know how I did it. Ever since I evolved two days ago, I could just… sense strength. Mom's presence was still like an ocean, unshakable. Kayda's was strong, yes, but nowhere near that.
Her grin widened, that glint growing sharper. Before she could press, the waitress finally returned with food. Three plates piled high with fatty cuts of meat for Kayda, and another bucket of bones for me.
"Here's your food," the waitress said.
"Thank you," Kayda said immediately, already digging in.
I smirked, biting into another bone. "Haha, food's more important, I see."
She chewed quickly, already halfway through her first plate. "What? I might be a researcher at heart, but food's still more important."
I paused. "A researcher? That explains the glint in your eyes." Relief loosened my shoulders slightly. At least that explained her intensity.
"Aah, sorry," Kayda said, swallowing, "if something intrigues me too much, I get like that."
"That's fine. I've seen worse. What type of researcher? Body? Magic? Something else?"
"I am referring to knowledge in general," she said between bites. "Well, currently, I'm not a full-day researcher."
I raised an eyebrow.
"I work for the Black Ops," she clarified. "Missions every once in a while."
I leaned back, amused. "Ooh, a black ops soldier, huh? What rank?"
She lifted her chin proudly. "I'm a level 680 Elemental Sage. Legendary class. Where do you think I sit?"
I let out a low whistle. "Haha, true, you did say that. I apologize; I didn't mean to annoy you, Miss Dragon.
Her nose wrinkled instantly. "Tsk. Don't call me miss. I'm thirty-five, thank you."
I blinked, then laughed. "Wow. That's really young for a dragon."
Her eyes narrowed. "Shut up. I can beat your ass any day, you damn fox." She bared her teeth at me, but with a strip of meat dangling from her lip, it came off more comical than threatening.
"That's true," I admitted, smirking. "After all, I'm only thirteen."
Her fork froze midair. "You're only thirteen!?"
"Yeah. How old did you think I was?" I grinned, tail flicking.
"Like twenty-something! Not thirteen!?"
"Now that's rude. I'm still in my youth."
"Are you calling me old?"
"Huh? No. You're a dragon. Of course you're still very young. And a strong one, too."
She scoffed, setting down her fork. "Snort. Yeah, sure. Strong for my age, maybe. But I'm still a failure as a dragon. Got kicked out of my clan for accepting a mortal as a friend."
My ears perked. "Wait. You were kicked out for having a friend? Or for joining Black Ops?"
"Black ops came after. I didn't have anywhere else to go." She dropped her gaze, shoulders tensing. For the first time, she looked as if she expected ridicule.
Instead, I slammed my bone on the table. "Huh? Are you saying that making a mortal friend means you're a failure? That's dumb. Sure, I get the pride thing when it's about commands. But friends? That has nothing to do with pride."
Her head snapped up, eyes wide at the anger in my voice.
I crossed my arms. "Tsk. Your clan head's a bonehead. Too old of a lizard to see straight. Pride's more a curse than a blessing, sometimes."
She blinked once, then laughed. For the first time, it was genuine—her shoulders shook, her lips curled naturally, and her eyes softened. She looked prettier in that moment, as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
I stared for half a beat too long before Amari's voice cut across the tavern, calling for me.
I sighed, pushing coins onto the table. Standing, I stretched, then walked around to her side. Reaching out, I ruffled her hair gently, ignoring the way her ears flicked back.
"Well, Kayda the Dragon," I said softly. "It was fun talking. But I need to find my sister. Thanks for all the information, by the way."
She blinked up at me, almost startled, then chuckled. "Haha, no problem."
Grinning, I turned and walked away, my tail swishing behind me.