CHAPTER 30: HOW TO TEND TO A DRAGON

The answer couldn’t have been more obvious.

And really, at this rate, even if the contract continued, it’d probably end with them anyway. Riley just didn’t see how both he and Liam were going to end up with descendants when he could barely find time to finish a full meal.

Lady Cirila looked conflicted. None of the answers would work out in her favor.

So she did what any mother might do when things weren’t adding up.

"Riley, would you mind taking a walk with me?"

He didn’t expect that. But honestly, with how the conversation had gone, her response might as well have been rhetorical.

Without resistance from the lizard and his esteemed father, Riley was whisked away to what looked like a secret garden. Somewhere expensive. Somewhere likely enchanted. Somewhere he absolutely did not belong.

Lady Cirila glanced his way. "I apologize for dragging you out like this, but I believe this is the only way for you to feel comfortable sharing your true thoughts."

Riley was taken aback. "Thank you, My Lady. But I was being honest earlier. If the contract isn’t ended now, it’ll just... vanish. Eventually."

She frowned. "Then would it be possible to improve your benefits or your working conditions?"

He gave a dry smile. "I recently tried. Kael was willing to allow some changes, but most of it was about how to survive longer. Just so I could keep working."

Riley let out a tired sigh. "Maybe it was different back then. But humans today are starting to prioritize work-life balance. We’ve finally realized that we don’t live long enough."

Lady Cirila’s expression turned somber. It was written all over Riley’s face—he wasn’t just burned out. He was at the end of his rope. And even she, with all her dragon pride, had to admit her son could be... a challenge.

"I’m sorry," she said gently. "It must be difficult, living up to expectations that weren’t made for you. Especially when Kael tends to be very... difficult."

Riley’s eyes trembled at the unexpected camaraderie. He almost cried right then and there.

"He’s very... particular," he managed, choosing his words as if his contract depended on it.

What else could he say?

He remembered the first time he saw Kael Dravaryn in person. The legendary Dragon Lord. Head of the clan. Leader of the Ministry of Balance and Enforcement.

He’d seen him on TV when Lord Karion stepped down and thought, Dragons sure look majestic.

But nothing could have prepared him for the real thing.

Kael was like a force of nature dressed in a suit worth more than his classmates’ collective annual rent.

His golden hair cascaded like divine silk while his eyes glowed like molten gold. His face? Too perfect. The kind that could bankrupt a modeling agency by merely existing. A walking work of art.

For a fleeting moment, Riley had thought—insanely—that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to work for someone like that. Surely being around such beauty had its perks?

Then the man opened his mouth.

"Tsk. Move."

No greeting. No "good morning." Not even a grunt of acknowledgment.

Kael didn’t ask for his name. Didn’t even look twice.

And yet, Riley clung to that illusion like a man drowning with only a wet napkin for support.

He’s just shy. Or brooding. Or allergic to kindness.

He tried to justify it. Tried to believe the cover model for Dragon Weekly’s "Most Unattainable Bachelor" issue had something redeemable inside.

But the illusion lasted exactly twelve minutes.

By the end of the first hour, they had been attacked. Riley saw Kael set someone on fire. And when Riley nearly got flattened by a flying object, his new boss told him, very calmly, to "send a memo if you die."

Freshly graduated Riley, full of dreams and nerves, had realized something that day.

Kael Dravaryn was not a majestic celestial being.

He was a walking labor code violation with cheekbones.

And Riley? He wanted a refund on his first impression. Preferably with interest.

As he animatedly recounted the story to Lady Cirila, she listened like she was watching a riveting drama. She gasped at all the right moments, occasionally cooing about Kael’s good looks, then scolding his behavior when things got outrageous.

"Kael set someone on fire?" she repeated.

"Yes, My Lady. With no hesitation. It was his version of a safety warning."

She sighed and shook her head. "He was always dramatic."

Riley stared. "A bit dramatic, My Lady? That man is the Final Act of a five-part tragedy."

And for goodness’ sake—he really was.

A high-maintenance final act, in fact.

Apparently, beauty came with a price. Namely: Riley’s sanity.

Because being Kael Dravaryn’s aide didn’t just mean organizing schedules and handling diplomatic meetings. No, no. That would’ve been too normal.

It meant learning how to tend to him.

Not serve. Not assist.

Tend.

Like a delicate bonsai.

A temperamental, fire-breathing bonsai.

"But in order to tend to someone," Riley told Lady Cirila with the expression of someone barely surviving, "they must first be awake."

Which sounded simple.

Except dragons didn’t need sleep the way humans did. And when they did sleep? It was a sacred event. Like a celestial alignment. A once-a-decade solar eclipse that should never, ever be interrupted.

And yet, Riley had to wake him up.

Multiple times.

Unarmed.

Lady Cirila’s jaw dropped as Riley recounted those near-death experiences, especially the one where Kael—half-asleep and irritated—almost ignited the ceiling. And that was back before he had the ring or the blood sigil.

At the mention of the sigil, something flickered in Lady Cirila’s eyes. Surprise? Suspicion? Riley blinked, thinking maybe it was just a trick of the sunlight bouncing off a bird. Or a hexed squirrel.

She didn’t say anything, so he didn’t press.

"...Anyway," he continued, "after almost losing my eyebrows three times, I figured out how to rattle the doorknob just enough to create ambient noise without waking him directly. It’s an art."

A stupid, dangerous art. Like juggling flaming swords on a tightrope over shark-infested waters.

"And once he’s awake?" Riley dragged his hands down his face. "That’s when the real work begins."

Because apparently, the waking-up part was just the tutorial stage.

Riley had survived the burning of two properties during their early travel years because Kael had specific standards. Very specific standards. One time, Riley had the audacity to bring the wrong comb—yes, the wrong comb—and Kael had nearly vaporized their guesthouse.

"You mean the black one with the crest?" Lady Cirila asked.

"No, My Lady. The obsidian one with the twisted root spine, carved from the horn of a volcanic wyrm. It’s apparently the only one he likes." Riley’s left eye twitched. "I once had to wrestle a thief for it. They thought they could steal from the human who came with the rich-looking guy."

"In the middle of a diplomatic mission."

Lady Cirila gasped like she’d just been handed the script to a tragedy. Which, in a way, she had.

And let’s not even talk about getting Kael dressed without the estate staff.

"One time," Riley said, voice flat, "I accidentally handed him the ceremonial coat with flame embroidery curling counterclockwise."

Lady Cirila blinked.

"That implies retreat," she said.

"Exactly."

"Oh no."

"Exactly."

The scandal had made it onto the lesser tabloid scrolls. Kael had glared at him for six hours straight, which Riley assumed was merciful. However, he had to do overtime work for three straight days, while Kael just sat there judging him. Really, he contemplated giving up his eyebrows for it.

Lady Cirila placed a hand over her chest. "Surely that only happened once or twice? The staff would normally prepare him—"

"Prepare, yes. Touch, no," Riley cut in, eyes hollow. "They’re allowed to clean the hallways. That’s it. Once I was assigned the role, I’ve been the sole handler ever since, My Lady."

The word handler was said with the exhaustion of someone who had trained wild beasts and then got yelled at by those beasts for breathing too loudly.

"Do you at least have a comfortable room here in the estate?" she asked gently.

Riley shook his head. "I don’t live there. I chose to stay outside."

"Why?"

"I was afraid of being burned in my sleep."

Lady Cirila inhaled sharply.

"In reality, though, most of our time is spent at the Ministry. Which is great. Because there I get to manually sort documents, answer magical memos by hand, and attend hours-long meetings I’m not allowed to nap in. You know, despite not having mana."

Lady Cirila gave him a look normally reserved for orphans and tragic heroes.

But Riley wasn’t done.

"Also," he added, "Lord Kael doesn’t trust technology."

"...Oh."

"So I have to do everything. Manually. With the same deadlines. And no magical enhancements. Because apparently, suffering builds character."

"I... I see."

"No, My Lady. You don’t. That’s just Lord Kael. That’s not yet counting the suitors, the enemies, the political obligations, or the very persistent man who tried to propose marriage to him in front of an ambassador."

Lady Cirila looked like she might pass out.

"And that," Riley concluded, placing a hand over his heart, "is why I’m not fit for this role. Because the person protecting the Dragon Lord is someone as flimsy as me."

He smiled, not out of joy, but in the way one smiles when they’ve just accepted that this is their life now.

Lady Cirila remained silent.

Riley could practically hear her soul trying to process the information.

And in the back of his mind, he wondered if she was reconsidering all of her parenting decisions.

Frankly? He hoped she was.

Because one of them should. And it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Kael who cared about nothing but his work.