CHAPTER 39: POWER STRUGGLE

Riley’s head throbbed.

Honestly, he couldn’t even blame anyone but himself. He had completely forgotten about that tiny, insignificant, crucial part.

The charging part.

Not that it would’ve helped even if he remembered, because the Ministry didn’t exactly do sockets. They had always been very firm about not wanting any elements they couldn’t control with mana just lying around. Especially not cables running all over. Too unpredictable, they said. Too open to vulnerabilities.

Also, it didn’t help that the Ministry building had been around since before electricity was even invented. Retrofitting that place would have meant tearing through centuries of enchantments just to install outlets. For a group of humans who didn’t even officially work there.

Like him. Apparently.

And yet, here he was. At three in the morning. Trying to revive a dragonling’s farm like it was a cursed relic from the lost age of man.

"Have you figured out a way?" Kael asked, looming in the middle of Riley’s living room like some ancient god trying to interpret the mysteries of mortal furniture.

"I need a moment to be certain, my lord," Riley replied as calmly as he could while praying that the console would charge faster through sheer willpower.

Then, after a short silence filled with awkward furniture squeaks and too much eye contact, Riley sighed. "Would you like to take a seat, sir?"

Because if the dragon lord didn’t stop hovering over him like a disappointed parent watching their child fail a science experiment, Riley was going to lose it. Politely, of course. Professionally. But absolutely lose it.

Also, he really needed to shower and brush his teeth.

Thankfully, the ancient lizard finally deigned to lower himself onto Riley’s poor old chair. It creaked like it was filing a worker’s complaint. Riley quickly escaped into the bathroom to freshen up and change into something less like bedtime trauma.

He had the strange and horrifying feeling that sleep was canceled for the night.

Especially when Kael began tapping. Repeatedly. With one finger.

On the table.

The very same table Riley bought secondhand. The one that already had a visible lean to the left. That table was not meant to endure the mighty drumming of a dragon lord’s nail.

So Riley, now in his suit and gripping his rapidly fraying patience, finally asked with the gentlest sigh, "Sir, is there anything else I could do for you while we wait? This might take a while."

Then, in what he thought was a brilliant attempt at salvaging his sanity, he added, "Or... I could charge it here and bring it over to the Ministry as soon as it’s ready. That way, you’d be able to do more productive things today."

Kael turned to him slowly. "Are you saying I’m procrastinating?"

Riley immediately stiffened. "Oh no. Absolutely not, sir. I was just concerned this situation might interfere with your usual, tightly-packed schedule."

"I believe I’m well aware of how busy you are."

Kael’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you really?"

Riley blinked.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

This was not the usual stoic menace who gave curt answers and terrifying glares. No, this Kael was... chatty. Passive-aggressive. And worst of all, lingering. He thought he’d fixed the issue of that silent war just yesterday, but what was this? Where did he even learn of such a thing?

Was this grief?

Did the death of pixelated blobs and a shack also affect him?

Whatever it was, Riley decided not to find out.

Instead, he offered his most professional smile. The same one he used for audits and death threats. "I’ll just check on the console, sir."

The device let out a soft chime.

Riley turned like he’d heard a miracle.

Please. Please let that battery icon mean salvation.

Riley prayed.

Because getting the console to turn on was just the start. The real battle was loading the game. And while it would’ve been a karmic sort of payback for all the mischief he’d endured, he didn’t exactly want to be the guy who broke a baby dragon’s spirit at the hands of low battery and file corruption.

So please, please boot up.

A soft, calming melody played.

Riley stared at the screen as the load bar began to crawl.

Ninety-six percent.

Ninety-seven.

Ninety-eight.

Ninety-nine.

Ping.

His fist shot up in silent celebration.

It loaded. It actually loaded.

The file was intact. He wasn’t sure what day Orien was on, or what he’d managed to accomplish, but at least something had been saved.

And then Riley saw it.

The debris was gone.

The farm had been cleared.

What.

No, really. What.

The brat had worked. Painstakingly. In-game.

No wonder he reacted like the world ended. He’d actually put in the effort. And the loss must have been so earth-shattering, he forced Kael into Riley’s apartment at two in the morning.

Meanwhile, Kael had been watching from the other side of the room. The moment the rectangle started singing, and Riley’s posture shifted from tight panic to visible relief, Kael spoke.

"Are they alive?"

Riley blinked.

He would really have to explain this carefully. Because anyone eavesdropping might think Ministry personnel were in the business of murdering small villagers.

"About that, sir... they’re not exactly alive," Riley said cautiously. "Also, the reason they, um, ’died’ was because the console ran out of battery. That’s why it shut off. It just needs to be recharged now and then using an outlet like this one."

He pointed to the socket like it was some long-lost divine artifact.

"But since the Ministry doesn’t have outlets, I’ll probably just give him a power bank—if you’re willing to approve one for use inside."

There was a moment of silence.

Which Riley expected. Kael had always been weirdly anti-technology. Sure, he’d stopped banning Riley’s phone after some dramatic negotiations involving family emergencies and near-fatal allergic reactions, but even now, he treated anything digital like it might explode.

Still, he waited.

"...Power bank?" Kael repeated, voice flat.

Right. He forgot the dragon lord would need visual inspection.

So Riley pulled it out from his bag and handed it over.

Kael raised a brow. Slowly.

"Why are you giving that to me?" he asked.

"That’s the power bank, sir," Riley said, holding back a sigh.

Kael’s gaze sharpened. He wasn’t confused about what it was. His question clearly meant something else.

"I can tell," Kael said. "But is that yours?"

"Yes, sir. Would you... prefer I get another one?"

Now, Riley was worried. Because Kael was a selective clean freak. Not visibly, but internally. If something failed his arbitrary cleanliness standards, it got incinerated. Not returned. Not washed. Just gone.

So was this about germs? Proximity? Sentiment?

But then Kael crossed his arms. His expression darkened. "You cook for him. You hand him that device. Now you’re giving him your power bank. What’s next? Are you giving him your clothes too?"

Riley froze.

Wait.

What?

No, really—what?

He stared at the lizard lord seated like royalty in his dinky chair, arms folded, posture imperial, tone unchallengeable.

That voice wasn’t annoyed.

It was something else.

Something slightly too sharp.

Too personal.

Too much.

Riley stared at him, gears turning.

And then it hit him.

Slowly.

Horribly.

Kael Dravaryn was jealous.

What the hell.

Did he not like losing servants to a baby dragon?