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I Married the Dragon I Killed Chapter 11: Just to Feel It Again Is Enough

Chapter 11: Just to Feel It Again Is Enough

There‌‍‍ is an old‌‍ story about blind‍‍⁠ men and an‌⁠‍ elephant.

In⁠​ short, it involves​ letting three blind‌ men touch different⁠​ parts of an​‍‍ elephant and then‌ describe what kind​ of animal it​ is. Each one​⁠ gives a different​​​ answer.

The‌‍‍ moral is clear—you‌‌ can’t judge the‌ whole from a single part.

However,​‍‍ there are things​‌ so obvious that,⁠ by seeing only‍‍‍ one part, one⁠ can understand the‌‍‌ whole.

For‌‍ Perda, that moment⁠ was the beauty​⁠ of Valdrova.

The‍ only thing he⁠‍⁠ could see was⁠‍ her jaw and⁠ her lips.

A chin line as‌​ clear as porcelain​‌‌ caught his gaze.​‍

And‌ her lips, red​ and shiny like⁠ an apple bathed​‌⁠ in morning dew.⁠

Just‍‌ by looking at‍‍ that lower part​​‍ of her face,​ Perda understood two‍ things—that his future⁠‍ partner was a woman, and that​​ he had never‍​ seen such beauty‌‌ before.

That‌‌ revelation disoriented him.⁠

That’s‍‌ why he couldn’t⁠ stop staring at​​ her lips.

Valdrova‌‍ brought the nuptial‌​ wine goblet to⁠​‍ her mouth.

The⁠⁠​ liquid slid slowly​​ between her lips⁠ until the chalice‍​‍ was emptied.

At‍‌ that very moment,‍ Perda noticed a change within himself.‍​‌

The‍​⁠ fear etched deep​‌​ in his being​‍​ toward dragons was‌⁠‍ fading away.

— The mortal shall​ transcend the mystery⁠‌‌ and, by washing​​‍ away fear, will​​ unite with the‌ eternal.

Exactly‌‌ as Ruri had‍⁠‌ said.

That⁠⁠ primitive fear of‌‍ dragons was dissipating.‌

‘They‍ really prepared all‌‌ of this with⁠⁠‌ ordinary humans in⁠‍ mind.’

The‌ core of the​⁠ ceremony was allowing⁠‍⁠ both parties to‌‌‌ look each other‍‍ in the face.​​

And‍ so, Perda felt‌​‌ it again—the hope‍‍ she had harbored‌ and the pain⁠‍‍ caused by its⁠​‍ frustration.

When⁠​ he observed her⁠ more calmly, the‍‍‍ dragon-shaped helmet turned‌ slightly toward his‍ side.

A pair of eye⁠ slits glanced at⁠⁠ him briefly before⁠ turning away sharply.​‍⁠

‘Maybe‌⁠ I stared too‍‌ much.’

Perda​‍⁠ turned his face‌ away and waited​⁠ in silence.

“Now​⁠⁠ we will proceed​‍‌ with the reading⁠⁠ of the mutual‍​‍ vows.”

Ruri,​ with a bored‌ expression, gave the⁠‍ turn to Perda.⁠‌‍

Valdrova,‍​‍ with her head‌ bowed, waited.

Perda‌ exhaled slowly, transforming‍ the trembling in​ his vocal cords‍‌ into a clear​ voice.

“You‍​‍ don’t know me⁠‍‍ well.”

It​ had taken him‌⁠⁠ an entire day‌​ to write that⁠ sentence. Finding the‍⁠ first line that‌​ expressed what he‌‍‌ felt was too​⁠ hard.

“But​‌​ I do know⁠ you.”

And​⁠ the answer was—‌​

“You​​ gave me your‍‍​ heart. Through it,‌ I was able⁠‍​ to see you‍ and learn from⁠ you.”

It‍‌ was his way​ of expressing everything,‌ honestly.

“I‌​ saw you being‍ betrayed and slandered‍‌⁠ over and over⁠​⁠ again. I saw‌ how much they‌⁠‌ hated you.”

Clank.⁠

Valdrova’s⁠‍ armor trembled with‌ each line of‌‌ the vow.

“And‌⁠ even so, you​⁠ fulfilled your duty‌ with nobility. You⁠‌‌ never turned your‌​‍ back on what‍ you loved and‌⁠‍ defended it until⁠ the end. Your‌⁠​ righteousness corrected me.”⁠​‍

It⁠ was, he believed,‌ the best choice​‌‍ of words.

“That’s​‌‍ why, here and‌‌ now, just as⁠‌ you gave me⁠‌ your heart, I now give you⁠⁠⁠ mine. My queen,‍ my everything.”

That‌ was where what​ he had written‌ ended.

‘This⁠ part I didn’t‍‌​ write, but…’

His​⁠⁠ voice did not​⁠ stop.

He​‍⁠ raised his head​ to look at⁠‌ her.

Upon​ finding the slits‌‌⁠ of the helmet,⁠⁠ he immediately looked​​ down again.

Clank,‌‍​ clank.

Valdrova’s‍‌ armored figure moved⁠‍ awkwardly, as if​‌ trying to hold​ something back.

“It‌ is an indescribable‍​‌ honor to be‌‌​ engaged to a woman as beautiful‌ as you.”

The‍ iron helmet shook‍ strongly.

Ruri,‌ expressionless, watched Perda—though‍ inwardly, she squirmed‍​​ in embarrassment.

“Now‍​ we will proceed‍ with the bride’s​​‍ vows—”

She⁠ was interrupted.

Valdrova‌⁠‌ raised her hand‌ to stop her.⁠​

“Why…?”‌

— …

She​ didn’t answer.

She⁠​ simply turned around‍ and began to‍‍‍ walk away.

Maybe⁠‍ she was preparing‍‍ something, Perda thought,‌​ and watched her.​

But‍‌ Valdrova went into‍​ her lair.

Thud.‌

She​ closed the door‌ behind her.

“……”‍‍

“……”⁠

She​‍ had left without​‌ reading any vows.‌​

Perda‍⁠⁠ and Ruri stood‌ in front of‌‍​ the closed door.​​‍

“…The‍⁠ ceremony is complete.”​‍‍

Thus‌ the rite concluded.⁠‌‌

There‍⁠ had been no‍ vows from Valdrova,‍⁠‍ but the essential‍​ part had already‍ been fulfilled.

“Let’s⁠⁠​ return, then.”

Ruri‍​‍ tried to pull​ him out of‍⁠ his daze.

But​‍⁠ got no reply.⁠

Perda⁠‌⁠ just stared at‍​​ the iron door,‌​ serious, absorbed.

“Lord‌ Perda…?”

When⁠⁠‌ she insisted, he‌⁠ finally responded.

“Forgive⁠‌ me, would it⁠ be possible to⁠⁠⁠ lock me up⁠⁠ for about three⁠⁠ days?”

“Lock‍‍ yourself up?”

“Yes.​‍ Without eating or⁠​ drinking, to spend⁠ the time in‌ solitude. I beg‍‍‍ you not to⁠‍⁠ interrupt me.”

It‌⁠ was a declaration—he‍‍‌ would isolate himself​‌ without touching food.⁠‍

To⁠‍​ Ruri’s ears, it​ sounded like this.‍

‘He‌⁠ must be really​‌‍ shaken.’

The‍‍​ vows were meant​​ to be mutual,‍‍⁠ but she had‍ run away without‍⁠​ saying a word.‌‍

It‌ made sense for​‍ him to feel‌ ashamed.

“Understood.”​‍​

A crescent moon-shaped smile⁠​ curved on Ruri’s‍‌‌ lips.

***‍⁠⁠

“Just‌ as I expected​‍​ from you, my‍‌ lady. With this,​​ the initiative is⁠⁠⁠ now in your​⁠‍ hands.”

Ruri‌‌ entered Valdrova’s lair⁠‌‌ and applauded.

The‌⁠ queen had returned​⁠‍ to her dragon​‍‍ form.

Coiled‍‌​ in a ring‍⁠ of her own⁠‍⁠ body, she hid‌​ her head beneath‌​‌ one wing.

Valdrova⁠‍ had ruined the‌‍​ ceremony several times‍​ before, but this​‌⁠ decisive move held⁠ great weight for​⁠ Ruri.

“I‌⁠‌ never would’ve imagined‌‍ such a tactic.​⁠ A one-sided strike⁠ and a swift‌‍‌ retreat.”

— …

“Making⁠⁠​ him read such‌⁠ a sappy vow,‍⁠ leaving him humiliated,​⁠ and then ending‍‌​ everything at once—no‌‍ doubt his momentum​‍ was completely cut​ off.”

— …

“But⁠​​ that wasn’t your⁠⁠ intention, was it?”‍​‍

Ruri’s‌⁠ face, previously delighted,⁠⁠ turned neutral.

Valdrova‍⁠ lifted her head.​​‌

— I wanted to‍⁠ read my vows‌‍‍ too. As is⁠⁠⁠ fitting for one⁠‌⁠ who receives a companion.

“…I​‌⁠ understand.”

Ruri‍⁠ shifted her gaze‌‌‍ to a corner‌​ she had been​⁠ trying to ignore.‌ There lay a pile of crumpled‍⁠ sheets.

She‍‍ knew how many‌ pages Perda had‌⁠ torn up while⁠ writing his vows.​

‘Ten.’​

From‍ those, a single​​‍ final page had⁠​‍ emerged.

Simple‍‍⁠ and fitting.

But​‌⁠ Valdrova had written⁠‌ twenty.

Twenty⁠⁠‍ pages filled to⁠‍⁠ the margins. And‍‍‌ she had wasted‌ enough paper to‌‌⁠ fill three entire‍⁠‌ volumes.

A sensitive and pure‍​​ spirit, unbecoming of‍‍ the feared dragon​ queen.

If⁠​ anyone else saw‌‍‍ them, it would‍‍‍ be mortifying.

For‌⁠ Ruri, who had⁠‌‍ been by her‌⁠‍ side for centuries,‌ it was merely‌‌‍ a reason to⁠ sigh.

“If⁠​ you wanted it‌ so badly, why‍⁠‍ didn’t you do‍‌ it?”

— That’s…

Valdrova‍‌‍ moved her lips.​​

— I couldn’t look​‍⁠ at him.

“Look⁠​‌ at him? What‍​​ do you mean?”​​‍

— I didn’t have⁠ the courage to‍⁠⁠ meet his gaze‍ and speak.

With‍‍ her fearsome dragon‌ face and voice,​​​ she let out‌ the words of‍‍​ a bashful maiden.⁠

— That silver hair,​⁠⁠ those eyes that‍ seemed to pierce‍‍ through me, that⁠‍ soft voice…

“…….”‌‍

“When‌ I saw him…⁠‍‌ my mind went​‍‍ blank, and I couldn’t do anything.”​

“…So⁠⁠ did mine, my⁠‍ lady.”

“You​​ understand how I feel too?”

Ruri⁠⁠​ was about to​‌‌ drill into her​​ own ears and​ cough up blood⁠ from sheer embarrassment.⁠​‍

“Anyway.”​⁠‌

If⁠​‌ she kept listening,⁠​‌ she’d end up⁠​ scolding her again,‌ so she changed‍⁠⁠ the subject.

“From⁠‍‍ now on, the⁠ future consort will‍ begin acting as⁠ lord of the‌‍​ household. He’ll take‍ charge of the​⁠​ castle and the⁠ vassal lands.”

“That…‌ I know well.”‍​‌

“And⁠‌‍ when a human​‍⁠ takes power, they⁠ begin to change.”‌⁠

“…….”‌‌‍

Power.​‌‌

Upon​⁠ hearing that word,⁠‌​ even Valdrova, who‌‌ had been in‌​ high spirits, fell‌‌​ silent.

The​ Third Prince.

That​ prince whom she​ herself had killed‌ still haunted her.‌‌

It⁠ had happened decades‌‌ ago, but for‍​ someone who had‍ lived through eras,⁠‍ it felt like‌‌ yesterday.

“That’s⁠⁠ how mortals live—flowing‍ with time. Always‌ be ready for‍ disappointment, my lady,⁠‍⁠ my great sovereign.”⁠

“I​‌ understand…”

Valdrova’s‍​‍ gaze drifted into⁠​‌ the distance, lost‌​‌ in thought. The⁠ pure maiden who‌‍ had faced a human became once‍‌ more an everlasting‍​‌ being.

Throwing​ cold water on⁠ a day of‍ celebration wasn’t pleasant​‍ for Ruri either.​

‘But‍ it’s necessary.’

Even‌ a hero receives⁠‍​ ovations under the⁠⁠​ triumphal arch only​ to remember afterward⁠‍‍ that they are‍ still human.

In⁠‌ the same way,⁠⁠⁠ she had to‍‍‍ remember that everything​​​ she loves and‍ cherishes will eventually⁠ be corrupted or​‍‌ disappear.

That​‍⁠ was the best​⁠⁠ advice Ruri, dragonspawn⁠​ and loyal servant​‌ to Valdrova, could​‌‌ give her.

***⁠⁠

After‌‌​ the ceremony, Perda​​⁠ immediately went into⁠ seclusion.

Unlike⁠‍‌ Ruri, who believed‌ he had locked​ himself away out​‍‌ of embarrassment and​⁠⁠ shock, he needed‍​ time alone.

‘That⁠‌⁠ feeling I had​⁠‍ when I saw‌⁠‍ her…’

When‌ he wrote his⁠⁠​ vow, he had⁠​​ simply put down​‍‍ what he thought.​‍​

But​‌ when he spoke‍‍ it aloud, something⁠⁠ that had been‌‍ buried deep in‍‍ his consciousness surfaced.⁠⁠‌

So⁠‍ much that he⁠‍‌ ended up adding⁠‍​ words that weren’t⁠ on the page.‍‌‌

‘Why⁠​‍ did I do⁠‌‍ that?’

He⁠ knew that by⁠​⁠ saying it, he’d‌‌ leave her unsettled.​⁠

He⁠‍‌ knew it might​ ruin the rite.​‍​

‘But‍ I had to‌‍‍ say it.’

It⁠​ was an irrational​‍‍ impulse.

He‌ feared that if‌​‌ he didn’t say‌⁠ it at that‌ moment, it would‌ already be too‍ late—and he let⁠ himself be carried⁠‍ away.

In‍ the end, he⁠‌‍ confused Valdrova and‌​⁠ the ceremony veered‌‍​ off course.

‘Why?’‍

With⁠ that question, he⁠ closed his eyes.⁠‌​

He⁠ went over what‌‌ he had seen​‍‍ and felt with‍‍ all five senses,​⁠ recalling it again‍‌⁠ and again.

To‌‍​ avoid clinging to‌​‌ a false clue,⁠‍​ he repeated it​‌ dozens of times‍‌ until he finally​‌ reached a conclusion.​⁠

‘It‌‍‍ was at that‌‍‌ moment.’

When‌ he saw her‌‌ briefly as she​‍‌ raised the goblet‌‌ to drink the‌‌ nuptial wine, Perda​‍‍ lost his breath.⁠‌‍

That​ feeling made him,‌⁠⁠ for a moment,‌ someone different—not the​​⁠ great mage he‌ had been, but‍ a man named‌​ Perda.

‘But‌ what is this⁠‌⁠ called?’

To‌‍⁠ find out, he‌ focused solely on‍​​ the moment of‌‍ greatest intensity.

He‍ repeated and repeated,⁠​​ seeking only that‍⁠ answer.

Then⁠⁠ he felt it—a​​ shiver.

Within​‍⁠ the already-formed circle,‌ beneath his lower​ abdomen, something spun​‌ violently.

The⁠ more that engine⁠‌ grew, the more​​ his chest burned.⁠

‘The‌⁠ red circle is⁠ in motion.’

It‌ was a wild,​‌‌ uncontrollable current—a flood‍​ that could swallow‌ him whole.

‘Dangerous…’⁠⁠

Instead⁠‍‌ of forcing an‌ answer, he focused​‍ his senses.

He‌ had two options—distract⁠ himself to calm⁠‌⁠ the red circle’s‌​ movement, or focus‌​ on the emotion‍‍‍ and stir it‍​‌ up even more.‌

‘The‌‌‌ best option is⁠​‍ to calm it‍‌‌ down.’

Agitating⁠‌ it was like‍​ placing a blade‌​ to one’s neck—a​‍ dangerous choice even​ for someone who⁠ had been a great mage.

‘But‌‍ if I want​ to be worthy‍⁠ of Queen Valdrova…’​⁠​

He⁠​⁠ had to take⁠‌‌ risks and venture‌​ forward.

That‌‍‌ was Perda’s resolution‌ the moment he‌⁠‍ stepped into her‍‌‌ domain.

‘Let’s‍ do it.’

He​​ focused his mind⁠‌ on a single‌⁠⁠ point.

Forging​⁠‍ a second circle⁠‌ was similar to​​​ forging the first,⁠‌ but without the⁠​​ initial vagueness—he could​​ now define it⁠ more easily.

‘The‍‌‌ problem is I don’t have enough​ stored mana.’

Opening‍‌​ a circle is⁠‍‍ like breaking a shell.

To‍⁠​ enter a new​⁠ world, you must​​‌ break your own‌⁠ shell.

For​ that, you need‌ a hard beak‌​ and strength—mana and‍​‌ willpower.

Perda‌⁠​ had both.

‘First,‍‍‍ focus…’

He‍ closed his eyes​‍ and assumed the⁠⁠ posture.

He⁠ dropped his consciousness‍‌​ deep down.

His⁠‍‌ senses dulled—he no​ longer heard his‍ heartbeat, nor felt‍ the flow of⁠​⁠ time on his⁠ skin.

Nothing⁠ could disturb him.​‌

Only‌⁠ his bare consciousness​ remained. He drew‍​ a line in⁠‌⁠ his mind.

The‌‍ line served as‌ a guide, and⁠‍‌ the turbulent mana‍ flowed along it.‍‍

Without​​ resisting, he guided⁠⁠ it naturally to⁠‌ a new place.​‍‍

The⁠‍ stream born from‌⁠‍ the great river​⁠ swelled until it‍ formed a new​​‍ circular shell.

‘Then​⁠ you layer it.’⁠⁠

A circle that wraps​‌​ around the one‍ already formed. He⁠‌ slowly shaped that‍ new form and‌ defined it with‍​ clarity.

For⁠‌⁠ forty-eight hours of⁠ continuous effort, he​​ molded it until‍‍‍ it was complete.‌

Two‍​ circles now spun⁠‌ in his lower⁠ abdomen.

Perda⁠⁠⁠ had become a 2nd-circle mage—a spell​​ blower.

“Hmm…”⁠‌

Even⁠​⁠ after reaching the⁠​ 2nd circle in⁠ just a few​​⁠ days, he wasn’t⁠ satisfied.

‘The⁠‌ emotion has run‌​ its course.’

As⁠‌ the new path⁠ opened and he⁠‍ reached the 2nd‌⁠‌ circle, that emotion‌⁠ had calmed.

That‍‌​ tingling had become⁠⁠‍ part of him,⁠⁠ and the thrill⁠‌⁠ he felt recalling‍‌​ it was now‍ gone.

‘That’s​‌‍ the downside of‌‌ the red circle.’‌⁠‌

It​⁠ always demands stronger‍‌ stimuli; without them,‌ stagnation sets in.​ You either become​ a monster devoured‍‌⁠ by emotion or​ remain half-formed.

‘Just​ to feel it‍‌ again is enough.’‍‌

There⁠ was no rush,‍‍ even if he⁠⁠‌ hadn’t yet discovered⁠‍ the name of​⁠⁠ that feeling.

When⁠​ he stood before​‌‍ her again, that⁠⁠ emotion would overflow‌ once more.

He⁠ was sure of‌‌ it.

Perda‌ smiled.

***⁠‍‍

“When‍ he said he⁠‍‍ was going to‍​⁠ lock himself up,‌⁠⁠ I had a feeling—but he’s already​‌‍ 2nd circle?”

“That’s‍‌⁠ right.”

A mage reaching the​​​ 2nd circle in‍​‌ three days.

He⁠ had barely been​​ there a little​⁠ over a month‌‌ and had gone‌‌⁠ from civilian to‌‍‍ 2nd circle in‌⁠ a flash.

‘An‍⁠​ abnormal growth rate.’‍⁠

Even⁠ if it was⁠‌‍ “just” the 2nd‌ circle, the pace‍‍‌ of his progress​ commanded respect.

“Then,‍‌ is this my‍ office?”

“Yes.​‍ Though only with‍⁠ delegated authority for​ now.”

Perda‍‍ and Ruri were‍ in the queen’s​‍​ office.

Aged‍ wood lined everything;‌‍‍ it was a space optimized for‌​ governance and heavy‍ with presence.

When‍⁠ Perda crossed the​⁠‍ threshold, he could‌ almost swear the⁠​⁠ queen was seated‍⁠ at the far‌ end.

As⁠‌⁠ he absorbed the‍​ atmosphere, he asked,⁠‌‌

“Now‌ that I’m officially‍ the fiancé, what⁠​ do I do?”​‌

“As​‌ I said—staff selection.​​ The queen has‌ returned to action,‌ so her place​​ must be filled.”​‌

“I‌‍‌ heard. But can​‌ I decide that‍⁠‌ on my own?”⁠

“You,​​ no.”

Ruri⁠ lifted what was​⁠​ on the table.‌⁠

“But‍​‌ this can.”

It⁠ was Valdrova’s royal‌‍ seal.

The​ seal carried the⁠ same authority as⁠ its bearer. Hence⁠ the saying—treat the​​ seal as if⁠‌ it were the‌‍‌ king.

“Talent‍​ selection, huh…”

The​‌ normal thing would‌ have been to⁠​⁠ ask for time⁠‌ to think about‍‌ who to appoint.⁠​

At‍⁠ least two days,‌‌ calmly.

“…Yes,‍⁠ I’ve got it.”​⁠‌

But‌​ Perda’s pen began‍‍ to move without‍ hesitation.

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