Patunasankus's emotions were sotis like water—sotis silent as a lake, sotis flowing like a stream, sotis surging like the sea, or soaring like a waterfall. But no matter the state, whenever she beca unstable, she would feel the urge to breathe fire.
Dragons were just such a simple and easily excitable species.
"Grr~"
With a soft, adorable whimper, a few tiny flas flickered from her lips.
Patunasankus quickly pressed her slender fingers tightly over her mouth, swallowing hard to suppress the searing heat churning in her chest.
"That was close…"
Only after a long while did she slowly release her fingers, exhaling lightly as a wisp of unspent smoke curled out.
"Phew, I almost started grilling on the spot just now," she muttered under her breath.
If Patunasankus hadn't sensed the itch in her throat and made a quick escape, she would have ended up blasting Dragon Fire straight into Shatina’s face. And without a doubt, after that, Shatina would have been nothing more than a charred lump—completely, utterly dead.
There were plenty of past cases to prove it, so there was no question.
Once the discomfort in her throat subsided, Patunasankus regained her gentle, sweet expression. If only these fantastical creatures called dragons could always remain as docile and well-behaved as she was now.
"Good thing I held back, or I’d have had to use my grand mory-erasing spell on Loranhir," she murmured.
"Your Highness, are you alright?"
At that mont, Loranhir followed Patunasankus outside, where the wisps of smoke that had been escaping the evil dragon’s lips had mostly dissipated.
"I’m fine, just… kinda craving barbecue," Patunasankus explained.
"Bar… barbecue?"
Loranhir blinked, her brain sohow inexplicably syncing with the Princess’s wavelength.
"How well done?" she suddenly asked with a serious expression.
"One hundred percent done!"
"But… is one hundred percent even edible?"
"Of course not," Patunasankus declared firmly. "But…"
The two exchanged a glance, and after a strange silence, they suddenly spoke in unison: ""But it’d be so satisfying to grill!""
"Wait, what’s wrong with …?"
Loranhir’s throat inexplicably began to itch as well. She shook her head, tossing out all the bizarre impulses.
After collecting herself, she continued, "Shatina’s secret technique earlier actually sounded sowhat promising. Are you really not considering it, Your Highness?"
Loranhir was quite confident about this.
Her confidence didn’t stem from Shatina’s expertise—after all, she was just a village girl who wouldn’t understand any profound theories.
No, it ca from Loranhir’s absolute faith in the Princess’s charm. Anything that relied on Her Highness’s allure, Loranhir would believe in without question.
Not to ntion, the Princess herself was the undisputed, most beautiful woman under the stars—acknowledged and relentlessly pursued by the entire evil dragon industry.
"No way!" Patunasankus snapped without turning back.The evil dragon snorted lightly, crossed her arms, and turned her face away. "Even if Elaphia were to drop dead and rot in the wilderness, I wouldn’t stoop to doing sothing like this!"
Stomping grapes barefoot was far too deaning and embarrassing for her.
Loranhir had gradually grown accustod to the princess’s occasional willfulness and didn’t react much.
"Though I’ll make so inquiries, it’s unlikely many know the location of Grand Duke Dreka’s underground palace. And ti-wise, it’s probably too late—who knows where Elaphia is now? Besides, wouldn’t Your Highness like to try the intoxicating flavor that Shatina claims could even enchant an evil dragon? According to her, wine personally brewed by the princess would surely taste amazing."
"You an… wine of Princess Latifa’s origin?"
Patunasankus instantly caught the keyword. She tilted her head slightly, considering the idea, which clearly held considerable appeal for the evil dragon.
"What kind of phrasing is it—‘origin’…?"
Loranhir’s lips twitched.
"Well, that’s the gist of it," she nodded.
"I-Is that so…? W-Well, in that case, I suppose there’s no helping it."
The evil dragon turned her face upward coldly, though her cheeks were faintly tinged with pink.
○
"You owe a favor for the al I treated you to—be grateful," Patunasankus remarked casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The three of them walked together toward Shatina’s temporary residence.
"Is this so kind of tyrannical clause?" Shatina said.
"Give back my change," Patunasankus replied bluntly.
"Your change?" Shatina suddenly stopped in her tracks, clenched her fists, widened her eyes, and scrutinized her intently.
For a brief mont, Patunasankus thought she saw the image of a righteous hero confronting a villainous force, ready to uphold justice—almost enough to shatter her impression of Shatina as naively foolish.
"Wow, you’re loaded? That’s aweso! Please take care of !" The next second, Shatina practically draped herself over Patunasankus’s chest, rubbing against her like an affectionate cat, just short of purring.
Maybe she actually would?
"Rich lady, rich lady!"
"…Are you that desperate for money? What’s wrong with you?" Patunasankus pushed her away, wiping her hands in disgust.
"Of course, it’s for academics! No scholar is sane—we’re all just barely holding on."
Shatina stuck out her tongue playfully before clasping her hands together in prayer.
"Oh Goddess of Wealth, I pray for a stunning beauty with a fortune vast enough to crush under her mountain of gold, filling my tiny academic fund to the brim. I don’t want to work hard for money anymore."
Patunasankus instinctively thought of the piles of gold and silver she slept on in her lair—she could probably buy Shatina outright without breaking a sweat.
"How wonderful. May your wish co true soon," Loranhir said, genuinely impressed by Shatina’s creativity. If it worked, she’d skip decades of hardship in one go."Hmph, if I weren't so poor that I can't afford academic funding, I wouldn't have to endure discrimination from those old fossils at the academy," Shatina said smugly, patting her chest. "I'm quite short on money, so after this is done, we'll split it seventy-thirty."
"Only thirty percent?" Loranhir frowned.
"The thirty percent is mine," Shatina said plaintively. "Please, have so rcy. Don't cut my research funds—I'm really about to starve to death."
"Sorry..."
Loranhir apologized sincerely from the bottom of her heart.
○
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the grapevines, casting dappled patterns across the ancient stone wine cellar. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of fruit and the rich aroma of fernting wine.
On that autumn afternoon, Patunasankus stood beside a massive wooden wine barrel, her snow-white throat bobbing slightly as she hesitated.
"Just step on it—I've already prepared the magic," Shatina called lazily from the shade of a tree.
"Prepared? You haven't done anything at all from start to finish," Loranhir remarked.
"I prepared it days ago. If you hadn't co, I would've done it myself," Shatina explained.
"Then why didn't you do it yourself?" Loranhir asked.
"Because of this." Shatina proudly pulled out a pair of glasses with thick black fras that looked terribly outdated.
"What an ugly pair of glasses."
"Budget constraints—cut so slack!" Shatina put them on and scrutinized Loranhir from head to toe with the serious expression of soone appraising an object. "These magic glasses can comprehensively evaluate a person's charm score. For example, yours is... eight."
"That doesn't sound too bad. So then prin—" Loranhir nearly slipped up and revealed her identity as the princess.
"What did you just say? 'Prin' sothing?" Shatina blinked in confusion.
"Nothing."
Loranhir shook her head. She didn’t want to casually disclose her status as a princess.
"Then, what's her score?" She pointed at Patunasankus.
Shatina turned to look as well.
It was a truly wonderful morning. Sunlight spilled over the princess's shoulders, where much of her snow-white skin was exposed, and the pale blue hem of her dress, casting a long shadow behind her.
The slender, graceful girl lifted the edge of her skirt in a ballet-like motion, her bare foot gently stepping onto the pile of grapes. The plump fruits let out soft popping sounds beneath her feet.
Every line of her was youthful and fluid, every inch of her skin as smooth as jade.
Loranhir could only think of one phrase to describe her: 'delicate bones wrapped in soft flesh.'
Watching this scene was simply appreciating beauty—no foolish urges, no unbearable itch, just a wish for more grapes in the barrel so she could tread a little longer, or better yet, to etch this mont into mory forever.
That was the feeling—even though nothing particularly special was happening, just the sight of it made one smile inexplicably.
Her Highness the Princess was the cutest in the world!
Suddenly, Shatina switched to a deep, serious tone, as if so wise elder were speaking to her. "Shatina, Shatina, you mustn't be fooled by other won. Stay vigilant—you're still young..."I haven't even submitted a few spell papers for 'Strange Magic Chants' yet. Rember: guard against fire, theft, and beauties—rich ladies are a different story.
"Why isn't the reading working? Is it broken?" Shatina tapped the mirror fra, looking puzzled. "Oh well, never mind. It's just a cheap thing anyway. The important matter cos first."
Her fingers danced lightly in front of her, drawing straight or curved lines that gradually ford the shape of a circular mirror.
"What are you doing?" Loranhir asked her.
"What else? Recording the production site, of course," Shatina replied with a grin. "Hehe, I've even thought of the perfect gimmick. 'Taurant's finest wine, produced by the most beautiful maiden in the world.'"
"Though I'm not great at adjusting the precision of optical spells," she fiddled with the focal length of the spell mirror, the captured image not quite clear, "a rough outline should be enough to sell it."
"Have you thought of a brand na for the competition?" Shatina asked.
"Brand na? Hmm... let think."
First and foremost, they definitely couldn't use Latifa's real na—that would be too flashy. If soone who knew Her Highness Princess Latifa recognized it, it would be troubleso.
Loranhir watched the princess's dandelion-colored hair dancing in the wind in the distance and pondered for a mont.
"Let's call it... 'Dandelion Girl.'"
Hm...
That way, hopefully, none of the princess's acquaintances would recognize it.
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