Chapter 15
Chapter 15. As If I Were a Ruler
Opening my eyes, I found myself entirely alone inside the villa.
Beside me, only the pillow where Sia had rested her head remained behind.
Resting there by myself on the mattress, every single thing that took place yesterday seemed almost like an illusion.
From this point on, seven full days would have to pass before I could lay eyes on Sia once more.
Just yesterday, I had briefly reasoned that seven days would not be unbearable, assuming I could easily endure the gap through daily phone calls.
Yet now that the reality of facing an entire week had truly set in, that optimism vanished without a trace.
Even if regular calls were possible, there was simply no way voice alone could compare to being face-to-face.
After quickly splashing cold water across my face, I stepped out into the living space.
The mess left over from the night before had been completely straightened out. Arranged neatly upon the dining counter were a handmade sandwich, a small carton of milk, and a folded note.
I picked up the note before doing anything else.
[Hello, Oppa. I’m sitting down to write this straight from Grandpa’s lair. My original plan was to jot it down right beside you while you were asleep, but staying there might have put you in danger, so I couldn’t. It feels pretty silly when you think about it, doesn’t it?]
A self-deprecating smirk formed on my lips as my eyes traced the words.
[Wouldn’t it have been wonderful if we could have capped off such a lovely day by sleeping peacefully beside each other? That single thought kept running through my head. I bet I would have had the sweetest dreams if we did.]
A twinge of unearned guilt settled into my chest.
Sia had been forced away, yet here I was, the only person granted peaceful slumber.
Could Sia have found any happy dreams while resting all by herself?
[I kept imagining what a joy it would have been to wake up after a restful dream, gazing out the window at the morning glow right by your side, Oppa.]
[Wait, I should have put this first. You see that sandwich waiting for you, right? I put it together myself. You are not allowed to skip breakfast, so be sure to finish every bite.]
Sia had always chided me whenever I neglected morning meals. The second I finished that line, I grabbed the sandwich and sank my teeth straight into it.
The taste matched every sandwich Sia had ever lovingly prepared for me in the past.
[Give me a ring right after you read this, Oppa. Love you always.]
Hours slipped past in a blur, and before long, the designated hour to rendezvous with Sia’s grandfather had arrived.
I stayed locked in conversation with Sia on my phone until the final minute before our meeting. Once we hung up, I tapped into the power of the ring her grandfather had bestowed upon me, instantly shifting my location to the lair nestled in Taebaek.
‘Incredible.’
Even though I had stood here once before, the environment remained impossible to take in stride.
The colossal dimensions of the cavernous lair and its chilling grandeur felt staggering.
With only a mild touch of exaggeration, it genuinely felt as though I had crossed over onto a foreign planet.
The instant I materialized, Sia’s grandfather met me with a hospitable demeanor.
“Welcome. I trust everything has gone smoothly in our time apart?”
“Yes, sir. Have things been peaceful on your end as well?”
“Very much so, thanks to your consideration.”
After trading pleasantries, Sia’s grandfather motioned for me to accompany him into an interior reception chamber.
Curiously enough, the interior was decorated in the unmistakable fashion of a traditional Korean hanok.
Noticing my undisguised fascination as I scanned the surroundings, Rokan spoke with a touch of pride.
“I once had the chance to tour an authentic hanok. Its understated grace stayed with me, so I remodeled this hall to mirror that aesthetic.”
“It captures the spirit of a hanok far better than many genuine structures out there. Your aesthetic intuition is remarkable, sir.”
Without Sia acting as our buffer, our interaction could have quickly turned stiff, but this brief exchange kept things considerably lighter than I had anticipated.
“My thanks. And Minjun.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Moving forward, I would prefer that you drop the title of ‘Grandfather’ and simply address me by my personal name.”
“You mean… Rokan?”
Frankly speaking, the idea felt thoroughly bizarre.
Perhaps to a dragon such familial titles were trivial, but to a person raised with deep-rooted Korean customs, referring to the grandfather of my future bride purely by his given name felt entirely unnatural.
“Indeed. That suits me better. Aside from Shasha, having anyone refer to me as their grandfather sounds foreign to my ears.”
“Understood, Lord Rokan.”
If that made him feel at ease, it was on me to conform.
“Now, let us turn our attention to the matter at hand.”
“Yes.”
Having sorted out my form of address, we arrived at the core objective behind my arrival.
“Shasha mentioned to me that you successfully unleashed the dormant power within the Dragon Bone Sword.”
During our late-night call, Sia had offhandedly noted visiting her grandfather’s domain, which must have been when the topic surfaced.
“That is correct.”
“Present the blade.”
The second the instruction left his mouth, Rokan reached into his subspace and retrieved a plain wooden practice sword.
“I must witness it firsthand.”
To put it plainly, he intended to test me with crossed weapons.
Even so, an odd sensation gripped me.
Engaging in a practice bout with Rokan was not an issue on its own, but the weapon resting in my possession was forged from a Dragon Bone Sword.
Facing an actual dragon while gripping a blade fashioned from draconic remains struck me as deeply unusual.
If our situations were inverted, I imagined I would find the prospect distinctly unsettling.
Nonetheless, he had explicitly commanded me to present it.
“Are you… truly comfortable with this?”
“Comfortable? I assume you are not about to speak out of turn.”
“Not at all. It is merely that, as you know, the material used to craft this weapon originates from…”
“Ah, that minor detail. Pay it no mind. Humans may view the matter through their own lens, but to our species, it is hardly worth a second thought.”
He genuinely felt no revulsion toward someone brandishing a blade carved from the skeletal frame of his kin?
“From time to time, individuals among our brethren even indulge in fashioning weapons out of their own skeletal remains as a diversion, so you have no cause for hesitation.”
“…”
Carving implements out of one’s own skeleton exceeded any realm of logic I understood, yet dwellling on it now served no purpose.
“Hurry along and unsheathe the blade.”
Complying with Rokan’s demand, I summoned the Dragon Bone Sword out of my subspace and wrapped my fingers tightly around the hilt.
The very second my grip locked into place, Rokan invoked an incantation, and our surroundings distorted immediately.
We materialized upon an expansive, unfamiliar grassland stretching across the horizon.
“Unleash the blade precisely as you displayed before Shasha. I shall restrict myself entirely to defending.”
Rokan gestured for me to advance, eager to set the exercise in motion without delay.
“You intend only to defend?”
“This hardly qualifies as an actual duel. What reason would I have to strike back? Stop wasting words and advance.”
My inner pride stung faintly at his dismissive phrasing, yet my sparring partner was an authentic dragon—and not just any specimen, but a former Dragon Lord.
Bearing our vast gap in standing in mind, his terms were entirely justified.
“Then I am advancing.”
Calming my breath with deliberate focus, I anchored my hands onto the hilt and lunged forward with everything I possessed.
Right now, I had to wipe away the awareness that he was Sia’s flesh and blood, and cast aside the reality that I was undergoing an evaluation.
My sole task was to swing with the exact same intent I had unleashed back in the training area.
Drilling that single thought into my mind, I crossed the intervening space and brought the blade sweeping down with total commitment.
Prior to meeting Minjun, Rokan had passed substantial time conversing with his granddaughter.
Having never anticipated an opportunity to reunite with one another in this lifetime, there had naturally been endless memories to revisit.
The two had enjoyed a lengthy, intimate discussion.
Eventually, their words wound their way toward her previous existence, and subsequently, toward Minjun himself.
‘A mortal capable of drawing forth the intrinsic essence of the Dragon Bone Sword.’
‘He did not merely summon its strength. I struggle to put it into proper words, but…’
‘The motion carried the weight of a true dragon swinging its front leg.’
Receiving that kind of evaluation straight from his own kin had genuinely startled Rokan.
Over his long years, he had seen mortals achieve remarkable deeds by calling on weapons of draconic bone, but not once had an individual generated that precise impression.
He entertained the notion that she might be inflating her description out of love for the man, but Rokan knew her temperament—she was not the sort of woman, nor dragon, to bend the truth.
‘If our Shasha speaks honestly…’
His intrigue could not be held in check.
One facet of him wished to protect his granddaughter’s feelings, while an entirely independent urge simply demanded the satisfaction of his curiosity.
Anchored to that motive, Rokan parried Minjun’s incoming edge to the side.
‘…I remain unconvinced.’
At a bare minimum, he grasped what his granddaughter had attempted to describe.
Minjun certainly handled the implement with a touch unlike other wielders of draconic bone.
Yet as far as Rokan could assess, the distinction halted right there.
Past that surface nuance, nothing about the mortal struck him as exceptionally peerless.
Casually turning the strike aside, Rokan braced himself for the follow-up blow.
A second clash and a third followed without hesitation.
Minjun dragged the blade from the dirt skyward, then redirected its descent toward the lower flank.
Rokan noted the shifts in trajectory, sensing that the young man realized his opening blow lacked sufficient force.
“I still perceive nothing remarkable.”
Even these adjusted attempts landed short of his expectations.
Though their weapons had met only thrice, Rokan had anticipated an assault significantly more daring and incisive than this display.
A persistent sensation nagged at him that a vital piece remained missing.
“It defies reason that a mortal harboring such latent capability would present nothing beyond this meager effort.”
Hearing Rokan’s critique, Minjun’s brow twitched for a fleeting heartbeat.
“I will keep swinging until you find what you are looking for.”
“As well you should.”
Minjun struck again, yet Rokan’s wooden edge effortlessly halted the steel just as smoothly as the first time.
It mattered little. This was never meant to be a life-or-death encounter.
Ten parries turned into twenty, yet Rokan’s neutral gaze remained unbroken.
“Operating at this modest standard, you will never seize the untamed strength of our lineage in its entirety.”
“…”
“Continuing down this path might earn you prestige as a prominent Hunter. You can indeed tap into a sliver of our species’ authority. A comfortable measure of prosperity and recognition would surely follow. Yet that falls far short of your true ambition, does it not?”
Rokan resolved that a shift in dynamic was necessary.
Minjun either required a sharp jolt, or Rokan had to unearth what barrier was preventing his latent potential from bursting forth.
All the while, Minjun gritted his teeth, his breathing growing ragged.
‘This is suffocating.’
His frustration was not aimed at the old warrior. It burned against his own inadequacy.
If he proved incapable of commanding draconic might, the barriers blocking him from standing beside Sia would never fall away.
He refused to allow his journey to halt here.
He had to shatter Rokan’s low estimation and compel the ancient beast to acknowledge that a real future existed.
“I refuse to settle for that.”
“Naturally you do. Neither do I wish to see tears from my granddaughter.”
“What must I exhibit to satisfy your expectations, sir?”
“Throw yourself at me without holding anything back.”
“…What did you say?”
Minjun had braced himself for an esoteric explanation, yet Rokan’s directive was disarmingly blunt.
“As you stand now, your sword swings with obvious timidity.”
“…! That is absurd! I have put everything I have into every—”
“This is not a matter of your dedication. Your mind is weighed down by the knowledge that your foe is an ancient dragon, and that I happen to be Shasha’s grandfather.”
Minjun opened his mouth to protest, but the assessment rang true.
No matter how fiercely he commanded himself to swing with abandon, shedding that awareness was far from simple.
This encounter bore no resemblance to hunting lizardmen or battering Wood Golems in a training facility.
Unbeknownst to Minjun, caution and subconscious tension had thoroughly tainted his form.
“Dominate.”
That solitary command rolling from Rokan’s lips caused a sharp chill to ripple down Minjun’s spine.
“Since the moment our ancestors first roamed, dominance has remained etched into our very bloodline. If you do not conquer, then calling upon our authority is entirely hollow.”
The core ideal Rokan demanded was total dominance, and Minjun absorbed the concept immediately.
Dragons were supreme entities meant to tower over creation; to channel their essence, one had to brandish steel with the arrogance of an absolute ruler.
Yet how had he carried himself thus far?
He had exerted all his physical strength, true, but he had not swung with the unshakable certainty that he would subjugate the presence before him.
How could an ordinary man entertain such insolence before an ancient primordial dragon?
How could he harbor such an attitude toward the very patriarch of Sia’s family?
“Strive to conquer me. Go further—visualize every dragon in existence kneeling beneath your command.”
Regardless of who blocked his path, he was required to draw on draconic essence while presuming his dominance over them was absolute.
No—he needed to treat their subjugation as the natural order of things.
That was the singular hurdle Rokan had been pointing toward.
“I will do just that.”
A faint, sharp grin pulled at Minjun’s lips.
In this fleeting moment, he would wield his weapon like an unyielding tyrant.
He would purge the notion that he was simply an unremarkable D-rank Hunter, envisioning instead legendary dragons—beings who toyed with elite rankers as if they were playthings—prostrating themselves beneath his very stride.
Minjun reinforced his grip along the hilt of the blade.
His movement surged with sudden swiftness, devoid of reckless panic.
A cold, feral ambition to reign supreme flooded his senses, yet he guided the edge forward with towering authority.
“HRAAAAAH—!”
Releasing a feral roar that bordered on a desperate screech, Minjun unleashed the culmination of every ounce of power he possessed.
The conclusion appeared unchanged. His edge met resistance, and the wooden blade remained stationary.
Yet when Minjun prepared his subsequent blow, a distinct change revealed itself.
A fine, visible fracture had cracked open across Rokan’s wooden blade.
The instant Rokan caught sight of the fracture, the skepticism in his eyes surrendered to genuine approval.
“So you are not an utter simpleton after all.”
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