CHAPTER 76: OF GHOSTS, BISCUITS, AND DRAGONS

But if Orien knew what the human child was thinking, he would have outright disagreed!

He wasn’t a glutton. He was merely practical and... and helpful!

If this little stick of a child tried to eat everything by himself, then wouldn’t he get sick like Riley always did? Wouldn’t he also have to keep on going to the bathroom?

So obviously, as the mighty dragon left behind to protect this house, it was his sworn duty to lighten the burden. To protect even this stubby little human.

And provided he stayed hidden, then it should definitely be alright.

...Right?

But how did he even get to this point?

See, Orien had decided that a patrol was in order.

For one, he needed to make sure there wasn’t anything lurking again. He absolutely couldn’t sleep comfortably without double-checking every shadow. But if he were truly honest with himself (not that he’d ever admit it out loud), he was uncomfortable sleeping when his uncle—and even that human—weren’t around.

What if he got nabbed again? Surely his pride wouldn’t survive another humiliation like that.

So he hid his own handheld in a very secret spot before prowling the halls. And that was when he spotted something interesting through the drawing room window.

That short human again.

This time, playing with a handheld!

At first, Orien thought it was his. He nearly screeched. But then he noticed the color was different, and the design wasn’t quite the same.

Still, curiosity burned. He pressed his little face to the glass, wanting to hear, but realized the room had soundproofing enchantments, like the ones back at the nest.

The disgruntled baby dragon pouted, tail swishing as he sulked. He decided to wait by the door, hoping for a chance.

And that chance came when the door opened.

Riley’s mother walked in.

But more importantly, she carried a plate of something golden and sweet-smelling, along with a tall container that gleamed in the light.

The moment the scent hit his nose, Orien nearly collapsed.

Warm, golden, sticky-sweet. Like sunshine melted into bread. He had no idea what those were, but he instantly wanted to sink his teeth into every single one.

He almost drooled on the spot.

He followed the woman inside, practically crawling, wings tucked tight, eyes glued to the heavenly plate.

"Liam, it’s snack time," she said gently. "You’ve done well finishing your homework, so you can play a little longer today. But don’t stay up too late. And remember, return to our room when you’re done."

"Yes, Mom!" Liam chirped happily. His legs kicked out under him as he grabbed his handheld with both hands, eyes sparkling. "Thank you!"

The woman smiled, smoothed his hair, then left the plate and container on the small table beside him before closing the door.

Orien didn’t even notice she’d left. His eyes were locked on the food.

Liam crunched into one of the biscuits, bliss written all over his face.

The sound nearly killed Orien.

A crisp, golden crunch that broke into a shower of crumbs. Orien’s stubby claws almost dug into the floor as his tongue pressed against his teeth, drool threatening to spill. His little tail wagged traitorously behind him.

And the smell—oh, the smell. Sweet, sticky, almost floral. His round cheeks puffed as he inhaled every wisp of it like a dragon inhaling treasure.

He inched closer. Just a little. Just to see better.

Then Liam reached for the tall container. He stuck a straw into it, and to Orien’s shock, the liquid inside began to vanish.

Orien’s jaw dropped.

How was the child stealing the juice without even tipping the container?! Was it a siphon? A spell? A weapon? He leaned so close his nose nearly touched the table.

Then it happened.

"Ahhh~" Liam sighed, leaning back with a satisfied grin.

Orien’s entire body went rigid. His back stiffened, wings shooting up like sails, stubby legs wobbling under him. His mouth dropped open in horrified wonder.

That noise.

That glorious noise.

He wanted it too.

Desperately.

The baby dragon’s eyes darted between the biscuits, the container, and the boy, enjoying them both like they were nothing special. His little body trembled. His claws twitched. His tail whipped so violently it could’ve knocked into a chair leg with a dull thunk.

But Orien didn’t even notice.

Because he was already scheming.

And heaven help the human child—because Orien Vathros wanted a taste.

Well, he did get it.

And frankly, everything had been going well for a good hour.

He had managed to "borrow" one of those heavenly things and basically inhaled it in one go just so it wouldn’t make too much noise. But then, after nearly swallowing it whole, he realized he wouldn’t be able to appreciate that sweet, mysterious flavor that smelled so nice. So instead, he started nibbling at the little bits that the boy ignored.

See? He was being helpful.

A generous dragon, cleaning up after wasteful humans.

But then disaster struck.

Something happened to the little people in the boy’s glowing device, and everything collapsed. Their tiny world exploded into chaos, and Orien panicked. Now here he was, locked in a ridiculous standoff with a human who—by the Ancestors—kept treating him like a child.

Back in the present, Liam picked up a biscuit with the seriousness of a priest performing a sacred ritual. He held it aloft, then deliberately extended it into the air.

"Fine then," Liam said with solemnity far beyond his years. "If there’s no ghost here, I guess I’ll just... feed the air."

He wiggled the biscuit slowly, teasing it back and forth like bait dangling over water.

Nothing happened.

Then, ever so faintly, came the tiniest sniff.

Liam’s eyes lit up like stars. "Huh. Guess the air’s hungry." He inched the biscuit closer to the place where he’d seen the straw twitch earlier.

Suddenly—crunch!

The biscuit disappeared right out of his hand.

Liam gasped, stunned, then clutched his handheld tight. His mind raced. Was this his brother’s pet? But... no. Cats didn’t drink juice through straws. And they definitely didn’t make snarky little noises while crunching biscuits.

"Good kitty," Liam whispered, voice trembling with delight as though praising the world’s strangest invisible cat.

From nowhere, a muffled squawk: "I am not a cat!"

Liam’s grin stretched ear to ear. He immediately snatched another biscuit, holding it out at arm’s length. "Here, kitty, kitty..."

Orien, invisible and fuming, bristled. "I told you, I am not—wait. Is that... more snacks?" His stubby legs shuffled without meaning to, claws twitching.

Liam smirked like a child genius with too much leverage. He slowly dragged the biscuit across the floor, watching with glee as it disappeared piece by piece.

What followed could only be described as training a very indignant, very bite-sized cat. Liam would place the snack somewhere new, then pretend not to watch. Orien, muttering about the foolishness of humans, would grumble and stomp his way over—still invisible—before snatching it.

Again and again.

Until Liam clapped his hands together. "Good cat!"

That was the final straw.

"Enough!" a tiny, furious voice squeaked.

The magic shattered.

Tiny scales shimmered into view across his head and cheeks, molten gold with reddish undertones glowing like embers beneath the surface.

His horns were little more than stubby nubs, dull for now but promising sharpness one day. His wings—far too big for his chubby body—jutted out stiffly, as if trying to make him taller.

Stubby legs, dusted with crumbs, were planted defiantly wide apart. Round cheeks gleamed sticky with juice that accidentally splattered earlier, with a suspicious smear of orange trailing down the corner of his mouth.

Orien Vathros, the great and mighty dragonling, looked less like a terror of the skies and more like a toddler who had just lost a battle with both a cookie jar and a juice jug.

"I am ORIEN," he declared, puffing out his tiny chest. His voice cracked halfway through his name, but he pushed through. "Feared by all! Respected by... by...!" His eyes flicked toward Liam’s plate. "...guardians of snacks everywhere!"

Liam’s jaw fell open. His little hands tightened around his handheld, not from fear, but from pure disbelief. His whole body buzzed with excitement.

"You’re a..." He trailed off, his brain short-circuiting. It was suspiciously like a cat, but... no.

"A dragon! A dragon!!!" Orien yelled, wings flapping with outrage. He couldn’t understand how the kid didn’t immediately know. When even like this, he was sure he looked like a mighty dragon!

But how was Liam supposed to? To humans, baby dragons were only stories.

"You’re a DRAGON," Liam breathed. "A real, actual, dragon."

Orien blinked, briefly caught off guard by the awe in his eyes. He puffed out his chest again, trying to reclaim dignity. He flared his stubby wings for emphasis—only for one to get stuck on his own ear.

"Yes, indeed! Tremble before me, human!" he squeaked. "For I am—hiccup!"

The hiccup launched him half a foot into the air before he landed with a squeaky thump.

Liam didn’t scream. He didn’t run. He didn’t even blink. Instead, he collapsed into delighted giggles, rolling onto his side and hugging his handheld like it was a plush toy.

"You’re—you’re real!" he gasped, voice cracking with joy. "You’re a real dragon! With wings and claws and—" he hiccupped from laughing too hard, "—you’re so TINY!"

Orien’s scales flushed molten red. He stomped his little foot, crumbs scattering like sparks. "I am not tiny! I am compact! Sleek! A flying genius!"

Liam squealed again, kicking his stubby legs on the floor, unable to stop himself.

A dragon.

An actual dragon.

In his room. Eating his snacks.

The two locked eyes—one human practically vibrating with happiness, the other baby dragon vibrating with wounded pride.

And yet, something shifted.

Because while Orien kept muttering about "proper tribute" and "respecting mighty dragons," his stubby legs betrayed him, shuffling closer to Liam’s plate. And Liam, clever as ever, quietly pushed another biscuit forward, grinning as the dragonling’s ears twitched.

It was the beginning of a sacred bond—an alliance forged not in fire or fury, but in crumbs, hiccups, and juice.

Now if only adult bonds were that easy to navigate.

Because somewhere else, in a room Riley was actually familiar with, was a scenario of scenarios that didn’t make sense to him.

For one, he was lying on the bed.

Not cleaning it. Not even just grazing it. Just straight up lying on the bed that, as far as he knew, had never once been graced by his mortal presence in all his unwilling years of service.

It felt... wrong.

Since when did he get to even sit, much less lie here?

Was this allowed?

Was this punishable?

And more importantly, with Kael being Kael, would they throw the entire thing away because he had dared to put his measly human backside on it once?

He didn’t know but he’d rather think of that than the suspicious hand on his heart.