The day of her Saintess Coronation, eight-year-old Cecilia stood alone on the altar. Her eyes faced the sacred light, awaiting the voice of the divine to grace her.
Nothing.
Ah, this is bullshit.
Even at eight, Cecilia knew her luck was terrible.
Just because she could guess here and there about people's problems and how to fix them, why would she get dragged here to receive a divine prophecy? Those people she helped… ungrateful wretches! They reported her to the temple!
Well… maybe it was better than getting burned at the stake as a witch…
But if they found out she wasn't really the Saintess, wouldn't she also get burned at the stake? Hmm… should she just… rely on the vibes like those scammers on the streets? She was quite smart. Perhaps she could do a better job?
No.
If a real Saintess emerged, she would be toast. She needed to find a way to just… leave. After this, she would think of a plan to ru—
CLACK! BLAM!
People gasped. Heavy, earth-shaking footsteps approached from behind her. Guards scrambled to block something from reaching the altar. As she turned, she saw him for the very first time.
Tall. Ancient. Majestic.
The Lord of the Lords of Beasts, the Dragon Lord, Oathran Alicei, his name announced by the shriek of the people around them.
Intimidating. Cold. Wrathful.
"Leave."
With his absolute authority, he used his Dragon Tongue. Instantly, all the priests, guards, and noble beasts in the hall walked out rigidly, like marionettes with strings attached to their bodies, forced to obey.
Cecilia tilted her head. Though significantly smaller, she was standing on the higher ground. The dais was made of carved stone, elaborate and smooth, and her saintly robe pooled around her.
The man looked up at her, slowly climbing the stairs until he could look down on her. His hair was a very long, white cascade, like a misty waterfall.
"Saintess Cecilia, I have a problem."
Cecilia blinked. "What problem do you have?"
What crazy problem could an almighty creature like him have?
…not impotency, right…?
This guy looked pale… he needed more veggies. Less alcohol, better sleep, and more workout. That could help. Well, that was what the sisters at the clinic would say when gossiping about the townsfolk. Even though he was the almighty Dragon Lord, the biggest men's fear could still apply to him, no?
"No one can kill me. I'm too strong."
Cecilia's brain had to load for a bit before she could process what he was trying to get from an eight-year-old with that statement.
"How old are you?" Cecilia asked.
"400 years old," he answered.
Wasn't that still kinda young for dragons? And dragons were rare. Why would he want to perish so soon?
"Absolutely no one can kill you?" Cecilia asked again.
The Dragon Lord raised his eyebrows, looking amused. Perhaps he expected her to ask why, or to persuade him not to. But all those questions only lingered in her brain before she decided to voice the more practical one.
"Yes, no one. Not the Werewolf Alphas. Not the Weretiger Kings. Not the Werelion Prides. Not even when they worked together."
What, he's bragging now?
Cecilia looked up towards the light, turning her back on him. He blinked, stunned to see the first creature to ever turn its back on him.
"Have you tried to kill yourself?" She asked.
"I promised my mother I wouldn't," he answered.
Oooh, a mum's boy.
"Are your choices in the way you die final?" she asked, turning to face him again.
Oathran looked at her, incredulous. "Yes. The best death possible. With pride and honor."
She nodded. "Okay."
The Dragon Lord's eyes widened. Was she actually able to provide a solution?!
"You don't want to be killed by strong people who are weaker than you, essentially because you didn't want them to claim they were stronger than you afterward. Nor do you want to kill yourself because of the promise," she deduced, a small smile playing on her lips.
"...yes. You are correct," the man said, his voice a low rumble. "What should I do?"
"Nothing," she shook her head. "I will bear the burden for you."
Oathran froze.
"Strong people who are weaker than you are out of the question. But what about me?" She offered. "I am weak. Everyone knows I'm far weaker than you, a grain of sand against a giant wave. It would be impossible for me to kill you, unless you allowed me to."
"So," she reached out a hand to him. "I can bear the burden of killing the strongest Lord of the Beasts, without ever being able to claim I am stronger than him."
***
WHOOOOSH—
The sky was blue, and the shade was cool.
The forest was prettier at day.
Two entangled hands still connected.
Oathran's eyes were wide, jaw slack, face turned to her in astonishment. Not the look one usually expects from a recently 'deceased' Dragon Lord.
Cecilia deadpannedly looked at the man and blinked. "I'm so sorry, Your Majesty. I know you wanted to die. I've ruined it…"
"What the fu—"
The man stopped himself. He looked at his entire body, noticing that although still mangled, a real patchwork quilt of a being, all of his wounds were sealed and no longer painful.
And this woman… this woman still didn't have her heart!
"Saintess, h-how…"
"I don't know. Divine intervention?" Cecilia shrugged, because what other explanation was there? A particularly efficient cosmic delivery service?
Seeing her nonchalant expression, Oathran's eyes changed. It was hard to describe warmth and tenderness in the face of a beast lord. Especially when his race was full of blood, dirt and moss. Not to mention the mangled part of his cheek and jaw.
But it was there. Somehow.
The corners of his grey eyes, the micro shift of his lips, and… the ease of tension of his jaw. The unclenching of a fate held for seventeen years.
Come to think of it, this man was the reason she chose to pose as the saintess all this time. Talk about unintended consequences.
"I see. You are going to kill me one day?" he asked, his voice echoing the question from seventeen years ago.
Cecilia raised her eyebrows. Huh? Not now?
She didn't say that she would kill him one day. She was saying that she would take the burden of killing him from himself and others.
"If that's what the prophet said…" the once handsome, tall man shrugged. "I will take my leave today."
This was when the real problem started. The point of no return.
Seeing the Dragon Lord, the strongest existence in the world, walk out of the temple with a satisfied expression, the beast nobles, priests, and guards outside were now convinced that she was the real Saintess!
Her security was tightened, and her fame soared. People from all over the world, human or beast, all tried to find her and fix their problems. Well, if the Dragon Lord himself left satisfied, their little problems wouldn't be a hard task for her, right?
DI—
After that day, Cecilia assumed that this man was just momentarily interested and tried to test her. When he heard her absurd solution, he was amused and spared her. If he truly wanted to die, then he would let her kill him that very day. A one-and-done deal.
DING—
And assuming by the way he interacted with her now, this man might still not know that she had been removed from her Saintess position since the real Saintess, Ruby Vaiva, had emerged. He was living in a seventeen-year-old headline.
DI-DI-DING—!
He still believed the solution she gave him that day was the real prophe—
RING…! RING…! RIN—
Ugh, this annoying sound—Couldn't a girl convalesce in peace?
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Whatever you are, don't spam notifications! Cecilia thought, her headache returning.
[...]
[...]
[Confirmed, Love Point increase notification will only appear every ten point increase.]
Oh. She could control it…?
"Well, now that we're somehow alive, how about we eat that bone broth you craved so, Saintess?"
Cecilia blinked at him. "Oh… right."
Her heart felt squeezed. This man… was such a gentleman… Of course her last meal wish wouldn't be forgotten by him… Cecilia smiled, a genuine, soft thing, and squeezed his hand back.
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