Chapter 7: It’s okay We’ll support you

To return home, Aisha chose a “carriage” as their transport.
The carriage was as large as a medium-sized pavilion.
The horses pulling such a massive vehicle were no ordinary steeds.

Charis stared, shocked, at the towering black horses, each three to four meters tall.
Their muscular bodies were restrained by ropes thicker than her fingers.
She compared her fist to their enormous hooves—they were several times larger.

‘Are these the horses I imagined? This carriage is absurdly huge!’

Charis stood dumbfounded, unaware that Aisha’s mother and Ophelia had already boarded.

“What’s wrong, Charis? Come on.”
Aisha’s hands suddenly landed on Charis’s shoulders from behind.
She grinned, nudging Charis forward.

“Ah, okay!”
Charis hurried onto the carriage.

As expected, the interior was extravagantly decorated, like a princess’s chamber brought to life.
Pale gold walls bore intricate patterns, complete with tea sets and a wardrobe.
From the outside, no one would guess this was a carriage.

‘So rich. Aisha’s family is insanely rich.’

Charis stood on the plush carpet, her tattered scavenged boots stark against the pristine floor.
She feared dirtying it might earn her a scolding.

“Sit anywhere, Charis.”
Aisha patted Charis’s shoulder, beckoning her before heading to the sofa where her mother sat.

“Oh.”

Charis eyed the sofa.
Aisha and her mother chatted and laughed, while Ophelia sat silently on the edge, like an overlooked outsider with no voice.

‘I’d better not go over there. Stay invisible. Sitting on the floor’s fine—the carpet’s soft.’

Charis thought it over and plopped down where she stood.
Her tail, tucked under the robe, could finally relax, sprawling comfortably.

“So, after defeating the Demon King, Charis showed up to scavenge, and you caught her?”

“Right, Mother. The clothes Charis is wearing are Luline’s.”

Aisha spoke without hesitation.
Hearing her name, Charis hugged the robe tighter—it was her only clothing.

“The saintess’s clothes on Charis? That’s an interesting turn of events.
When do you plan to return them, Charis?”

Aisha’s mother looked over from afar.
Charis’s heart skipped a beat.

‘Stop talking about me like I’m some new treasure!’

Her true thoughts couldn’t be voiced.
Charis quickly put on an apologetic expression.

“I’ll wash them and return them to her.”

“Hm, not bad character. Who taught you?
Does demon education include gratitude?”

“Uh… I figured it out myself.”

“So, your family speaks human languages like you?”

Aisha’s mother hit a critical point.
Aisha and Ophelia both turned to look, making Charis squirm under their gazes.

Before, all she worried about was filling her stomach.
Now, she had to figure out how to navigate human scrutiny.

Since hatching, Charis had never seen another dragon.
The demons she’d encountered on the battlefield spoke different tongues.
She lived entirely by her past life’s human habits, which made communicating with humans easier.

“Right, Charis, you speak human so well.
I was so focused on you being a young dragon, I forgot to ask how you learned.”
Aisha walked over, crouching to study Charis again.

“I…”
Charis hadn’t thought of an excuse, stammering.

“Are you a spy? But your emotional intelligence isn’t quite there.
A demon genius, maybe? But a genius wouldn’t be scavenging scraps.”

Aisha stroked her chin, finding Charis’s background more intriguing by the second.
A talking, humanoid young dragon was just too rare.

‘If my excuse isn’t good enough and they dig deeper, they’ll find Talos’s soul, and I’m done for!’

‘Scavenging… doesn’t mean I can’t pick up books. The battlefield’s littered with all sorts of loot.’

With that thought, Charis finally spoke.

“I learned from books.
After battles, I’d scavenge for food.
Sometimes I’d find books and learned a few human phrases… that’s how it happened.”

“Books? You lived near the demon-human frontlines often?”

“Yeah, I don’t have a home, so I go where there’s food.”

Charis’s tone grew heavy with helplessness and loss.

For some reason, Ophelia, seated on the sofa, suddenly looked over, her eyes wide with surprise.

“No home? Where’s your family?”
Aisha blinked, pressing for answers.

“I was abandoned.
Since hatching, I’ve been chased by all sorts of things.
I barely survived by scavenging near the frontlines.”

From here, Charis wasn’t lying.
She still remembered scavenging in the pouring rain, swallowing cold, unidentifiable food mixed with rainwater—utter misery.

“Abandoned? I thought dragons fiercely protected their kin, even launching vengeful rampages for a single clan member.”

Aisha frowned, puzzled by her analysis.

“Maybe I’m an outcast, so I was abandoned.
Doesn’t matter—surviving’s good enough.”

Charis’s words were raw and genuine.
Sensing her gloom, Aisha smiled and gently touched her cheek.

“Don’t worry~ We’ll take care of you.”

Aisha’s simple words made Charis’s head snap up, her heart wavering.

‘A stable home, enough food—that might actually be nice.’

But then Charis reconsidered.
She knew promises were Aisha’s prerogative, not hers.
Scavenging on the frontlines was tough, but at least she had her dignity and freedom.
Becoming a willing pet meant losing both.

Who knew what unpredictable Aisha might do once she lost interest?

Handing her fate to others was something Charis couldn’t accept.

“Um… thank you. I’m so touched.
No one’s ever cared about me like this.”

Charis thanked Aisha outwardly, but inwardly, her resolve to reclaim her dignity and freedom—and deal with the ice chain and potion—grew stronger.

“Charis, as a fellow demon, you make me proud.”
Talos suddenly spoke, her tone full of approval.

“Why’d you go quiet for so long?
Not helping me come up with ideas earlier, and now you chime in?”
Charis shot back.

“Heh, I was testing your character.
Would you cling to their power for a comfy life, or choose freedom and dignity?”

“What’s wrong with the latter? Help me already!”

“No rush. I’ve mostly figured out the ice chain’s mechanism.
Tonight, I’ll teach you how to break it.”

Talos’s tone was almost convincing, sounding somewhat reliable.

‘You’d better deliver.’

Charis fell silent, looking at Ophelia, who had been watching her with a sympathetic gaze.

‘Why do her eyes seem to carry the same kind of pain I feel?’

Charis shook her head—maybe it was her imagination.
How could the lofty sword saintess Ophelia have a tragic past worse than hers?