SYMDF 4

Chapter 4

It tilted its head again and again, blinking with clear, aquamarine-like eyes. Ion widened his own eyes at the sight of it—a creature faintly reminiscent of a lizard.

It had scales like a reptile, but its rounded head, plump, squishy-looking body, and oversized eyes gave it a cuteness that seemed too whimsical, too otherworldly to belong to any ordinary creature.

Who are you?

He wanted to ask, yet no sound left his lips. As his frustration made his mouth twitch, the message appeared again before him:

[Status Effect: Mute]

It was forbidding him to speak.

Frowning at the glowing window, Ion stepped closer to the creature. Cookie crumbs clung all around its mouth. For some reason, the sight made him laugh softly. He reached out and gently wiped its face with his thumb.

The little being—lizard or not—flinched as though startled by his touch.

“Kkuuuk?”

Its large eyes seemed to ask, What was that? in curious bewilderment. Ion tilted his head back in the same way. Lowering his gaze, he noticed crumbs scattered across the desk, a plate left empty beside an open book. Clearly the plump creature had not baked cookies itself; more likely, someone had been reading here and left a plate behind, expecting the servants to clean up.

Amused by how much of a troublemaker the chubby little creature already looked, Ion reached toward it. The pale lizard watched, jaws parted slightly, then straightened its body in sudden movement.

Can it stand on two legs?

Incredibly, it trotted forward on stubby limbs and scampered up his arm, pressing firmly against his body.

“Kku?”

It blinked, emerald-like eyes glittering. Peering closer, Ion realized those eyes reflected light like a gemstone’s facets, scattering rainbows. Curious proportions, stubby body, strange head-to-body ratio… combined with the tiny wings tucked behind its back, Ion realized this was decidedly no mere reptile.

And, surprisingly, its texture was not unpleasant. When he stroked it, the sensation was not slimy like a snake’s but soft, like a baby’s skin.

Then the message appeared.

[You have encountered a White Dragon.]
[This encounter may affect the player’s survival.]

“…!”

A dragon?

He felt its weight more solid than its form suggested, caught halfway between wonder and alarm.

Is this really a dragon? It looks more like a plush toy than a creature of legend…

Its stubby limbs, short wings, ball-like eyes, and not-quite-four-heads-tall proportions were enough to dispel any air of majesty. And yet, catching Ion’s internal thoughts almost knowingly, the “dragon” only blinked its radiant eyes back at him.

“….”
“Kku.”
“….”

Ion’s face flushed as he stared intently at the tiny, tilting creature. He wanted desperately to ask Why are you here? but when he opened his mouth—

“Ah, uu…”

No voice emerged.

As though sensing his frustration, the dragon shuffled anxiously, wings trembling as it tugged at Ion’s sleeve with its mouth, trying to pull him along. Surprised, Ion let himself be led.

Groaning faintly in exertion, the dragon guided him to the center of the towering shelves. Then it flitted skyward with its delicate wings—fragile-looking, yet managing to carry it.

Perplexed, Ion followed with his gaze and saw:

Among the shelves rested several volumes, and next to one, a vacancy.

The Myth of O’Brien’s Founding
The Development of the O’Brien Empire

Beside The Myth of O’Brien’s Founding lay a space—just the right size for the book he carried.

“Kkuu-uu!”

Put it here!

The dragon’s gleaming eyes seemed to insist upon it.

Ion marveled at the way the creature had understood his task without a word. A system helper? Whatever it was, it wasn’t harmful—so he slid the book into place.

Instantly, his fingertips glowed faintly—ding!—a crisp tone rang out.

[Quest condition fulfilled. The tutorial quest is complete.]
[Status Effect “Mute” (失語) has been lifted.]

That easily? Doesn’t that make the penalties meaningless?

Though startled, Ion quickly tested it. Opening his mouth, he read the book’s cover aloud:

“The One-Hundred-Year Chronicle of the O’Brien Empire…”

His voice came forth. Words of a foreign tongue, yet fluent as if ingrained deeply into his brain. He had expected as much; still, the ease of it felt uncanny.

But almost instantly the voice triggered a violent cough.

Cough, cough, cough!

His chest convulsed, breath hitching, tears rising in his eyes.

“Hah… hah…”

Each gasp shook his body. Clutching his chest, he leaned hard against the shelf for support, but the racking cough would not stop. His open mouth gulped air to the point of pain.

“Kku, kku!”

Just as Ion faltered, dizzy, the little dragon let out a plaintive cry. Looking up through tear-filled eyes, Ion saw it clutching a teacup with both tiny hands.

Where it had come from, who could say—but inside was cool tea.

Still coughing, Ion blinked at the sight. Concern mirrored brightly in the dragon’s jewel-toned eyes.

“…You’re giving this to me?”

“Kkuuuung.”

Ion gave a trembling laugh, taking the cup in thanks. The cool liquid soothed his throat slightly. Though breathing remained ragged, he smiled and set the empty cup on the ground.

The dragon toddled forward, clambered up, and pressed itself against his chest.

“Kkuuung.”

Its puffed cheeks squished warmly against him.

Moved, Ion held it in both hands. It wriggled, shaking its little tail playfully, and he burst out in soft laughter.

“What’s your name?”

“Kku…?”

Its wide eyes welled again, shimmering with tears. When its lips quivered pitifully, Ion panicked.

Is it sad because it has no name?

Hastily, he offered:

“Shall I name you?”

“Kkuu?”

At once, the dragon beamed, nodding eagerly. It must truly be a dragon, as the message said; it could understand, though not speak.

Licking his dry lips, Ion steadied himself and looked into its aquamarine eyes.

“What about… Yomnyong?”¹

He hadn’t thought of anything better—just blurted the first “cute-sounding” thing.

Too careless?

And indeed, tears welled again in its eyes. The glassy sheen of those gemlike pupils made Ion’s own cough catch in his throat. Holding his breath to contain a hiccup, he realized—it wasn’t displeasure.

The dragon wriggled harder in against his chest, its little head shaking.

“…You like Yomnyong?”

The tiny bluish horn atop its head bobbed as it nodded.

“Uu, kkuuuung, kkuuk…”

Yomnyong’s muffled whimpers escaped in bursts. Why it cried so sorrowfully, Ion couldn’t tell. But to him, it was enough that it was adorable. Stroking its smooth back scales, he silently thought—

So lovely…

Does it already belong to someone? If not… how dearly he wanted to keep it. Dangerous or not.

Then, recalling the message still floating:

[This encounter may affect the player’s survival.]

But how could something this cute be harmful—except maybe to my heart?

Chuckling, Ion carried Yomnyong back to his chamber. Its weight was heavier than it looked, and his frail condition made the walk arduous. He trembled, arms quaking, legs dragging. Yet somehow, he made it back.

And there, he collapsed. For three full days he coughed without rest, bedridden.

Through it all, one reality was brought starkly clear to him—

This body of his was as fragile as glass.

Footnotes:

“Yomnyong” (욤뇽이): A playful, childish-sounding Korean nickname derived from “dragon” (용 yong) but altered into a cute, baby-like form. It sounds funny or endearing in Korean, similar to giving pets goofy names like “Snuggy-drake” in English.