CHAPTER 91: CONSPIRATORS UNDER COVERS

Conspirators.

In reality, that word was far more accurate.

Because while to any adult ear it would sound like ordinary playtime, anyone who actually peeked inside would see the truth. This wasn’t innocent fun. This was the makings of punishable shenanigans, especially when one of them was supposedly hiding his identity.

In the drawing room, far from prying eyes, two culprits were tucked under what was being generously called a safety blanket.

Orien, in his proud baby dragon form, had absolutely no idea how a scrap of cloth could possibly qualify as protection. His scales gleamed faintly in the dim light, his stubby horns poking comically against the blanket as if he were testing the limits of its supposed power. In his mind, the human who smelled like honey biscuits was just weak and poor—maybe this was all he could afford.

So instead of scoffing out loud, the great baby dragon who had already devoured more than ninety percent of the poor kid’s biscuits, merely puffed his tiny chest and declared proudly, "Okay, we’ll just do as you recommended. But when a real threat comes, you just hide behind me." His stubby wings flapped once for emphasis as he wiggled under the blanket, mimicking the boy’s movements.

The result was less majestic protector, more oversized toy trying to burrow into laundry.

Liam, however, didn’t see that.

He saw a tiny, heroic dragon who was clearly smaller than himself and therefore in need of protecting. Which was why he’d marched into their room earlier, determined face and all, and requested a blanket. His excuse? He wanted to curl up the same way he did back home.

Obviously, the parents who initially tried to dissuade him had folded in record time. How could they take something away from such an innocent child? And besides, Riley wouldn’t buy these things if they weren’t meant to be used.

Liam’s victory was swift and sweet.

So sweet, in fact, that he surprised his mother again not long after by asking if he could have more juice. Renee had blinked in surprise—her son had never been one to ask for refills so eagerly—but perhaps he was still stressed from all the sudden movement and needed comfort.

So she prepared the juice without fuss, only to watch in bafflement as Liam grabbed the loaded backpack, nearly sprinting off with it.

"Eh?"

But in the end, she shrugged it off.

And that was how the two conspirators ended up hidden in the drawing room, blanketed and plotting against the world. Or at least against the new "little people" who looked utterly foreign to Orien’s dragon eyes.

The silence was broken by a loud sluuurp.

Orien tilted his head back, straw sticking out of his mouth as he sucked noisily at the juice in the jug Liam had smuggled. His golden eyes, far too intense for a baby dragon, were fixed squarely on the glowing screen in Liam’s hands.

Liam blinked, then glanced between the juice and the stare. "...Here, do you also want to see?"

The baby dragon froze mid-slurp, wings twitching guiltily under the blanket.

But how could he not look?

He had never seen anything like it before.

Even earlier, when he watched the boy play, the only thing he understood was that one side would win while the other side would lose. But why did the little people on the screen have to move so much? Couldn’t they just roast the enemy alive and be done with it?

Wasn’t it too tiring to keep on punching and kicking when there were far easier ways? Also, how could they possibly perish that easily?

Just how weak were they?

Orien’s tiny face scrunched into the most serious expression his stubby features could manage, golden eyes narrowed as the word LOSE flashed across the screen. His wings twitched with indignation. He even opened his mouth, ready to scold the little human, when the boy glanced up, asking if he wanted to watch.

The dragon puffed up like a furious cat caught stealing fish. "Why would I want to watch if you keep on losing?!" he snapped, cheeks glowing faintly beneath his scales. "How many little people already died?!"

Liam blinked, baffled, before realizing Orien was serious. His small hands tightened on the console. "Ah—Lord Orien, I’m sorry. I’m really not good at this one. It’s not the game I usually play. But a classmate said I should practice so we could play together next time."

Orien’s ears twitched at the words "play together."

Play together? What in the world did that mean? Was it some sort of human ritual?

The little dragon stiffened like he’d been struck by lightning, gaze sharpening. But before he could ask, the boy noticed the sudden intensity and quickly added, "Uhm... so My Lord, this is a multiplayer game. Like most games."

The explanation did nothing to soothe him. Multiplayer? That sounded suspicious. Dangerous even.

"Little Sprite, explain yourself!" Orien demanded, puffing out his chest while his stubby claws clutched his juice pouch like a scepter of authority.

"Oh! Um, Lord Orien, my name is Liam..." the boy said sheepishly, realizing only now that introductions hadn’t actually been made. Still, he hurried on because the little dragon’s tail was flicking with growing impatience.

"Well... multiplayer games are games played by people who own the same game, usually on the same handheld, or sometimes on a different but similar one. So if we had another device,"—he held up the console carefully for Orien to see—"then, provided the game allows it, we could play together."

The explanation was simple. Too simple.

But to the baby dragon, it was world-shattering.

Orien went stiff as though he’d just been told the stars could be plucked from the sky. Liam panicked for a moment, thinking something was wrong, until the dragon crossed his stubby arms, face solemn, and asked in the gravest voice he could muster: "What happens if someone plays together?"

Liam’s lips curved, amused at the seriousness. "Well, it depends on the game. For this one, if my friend and I played, we’d fight each other. But if it were my favorite game, then we’d help each other. Like watering plants, taking care of animals, and managing a farm together."

"!!!"

Orien froze, wings sticking up like shocked feathers. Helping? Animals? Farm?

Wait a minute. This was far too familiar.

The baby dragon whipped his head toward Liam, eyes wide as saucers. "Little Sprite! What do you call that favorite game of yours?!" he demanded, practically vibrating with urgency.

Liam startled at the intensity but answered quickly, holding up the console and pointing at the icon. "Oh, that? It’s this one. It’s called Verdant Valley."

"!!!"

Orien nearly toppled backward under the blanket, tail thumping the floor like a drum.

Because now...now that was more than familiar!