SYMDF 11

Chapter 11

“I don’t know either. I’ve lost my memories,” Ion whispered, shaking his head.
“But one thing’s certain—if I let go of your hand, or if I don’t keep holding the mana stone you gave me, I might suddenly drop dead.”

It should have sounded like nonsense. Yet Camillus neither scoffed nor demanded explanations. Instead, he pulled Ion firmly into his arms.

“Ah!”

“It’s time to descend.”

As he said it, Yomnyong began to dive toward the forest below. The sudden drop sent fear rushing up Ion’s throat, but Camillus tightened his grip to steady him.

The dragon glided smoothly, as though obeying unspoken command, slipping into a small wood and landing gently. Once close enough to the ground, Camillus leapt down with Ion still in his embrace. Ion squeezed his eyes shut, too frightened to watch.

Then—crunch. Leaves brushed underfoot.

Cautiously, Ion peeked open his eyes and froze. He was in a princess-carry. His feet dangled in the air, mortifyingly close to Camillus’s chest. His face flushed hot.

“P-put me down.”

“Of course. Careful.”

Camillus lowered him gingerly, like handling a fragile puppy. Ion at last set his feet upon the earth. But the moment his hand slipped away, the flow of mana broke. A wave of weakness hit him, forcing him to stumble. Camillus reached quickly to steady him, but Ion raised a hand to refuse, slowly pulling himself together.

Just as expected, mocking text popped into view:

[Status Effect ‘Overflowing Mana’ has ended.]
[Recalculating player’s death probability…]

Without mana circulating, fatigue and frailty returned at once. Ion realized with stark clarity: for him, mana wasn’t just magic. It was the last thread of life itself.

Back at the Duke’s manor, I must learn what precisely mana is.

[Player’s current probability of death: 26%]

Damnable numbers. No matter what aid he took, his survival rate had never dropped below 20%.

Breathing became labored. He pressed his cravat against his chest, wheezing faintly. Watching closely, Camillus met his gaze.

“Even if we part here… can we meet again?”

Immediately, words flooded across Ion’s vision:

[The player has proposed a new agreement with Camillus Valderas Clodel.]
[Quest initiated.]

So the system meddles even here.

Camillus lingered in silence, and Ion swiftly scanned the scrolling text:

[Reunion with Camillus Valderas Clodel (0/3)]
[You must meet Camillus three more times. To count, you must hold a conversation of ten sentences or more within one meter of each other.]
[Completion of this quest will directly affect the player’s survival.]

So specific it even defined “meeting.” And unlike before, the system didn’t hedge with “may affect.” Now it stated outright: will affect.

There was only one meaning.

This boy is the key.

The system might as well shout: Survive—by binding him to you.

And Camillus, for his part, didn’t even need coaxing further. After a pause, he nodded.

“I’ll find you,” he said, voice cracking, though ending firmly.
“At any time. As often as you wish.”

Ion blinked, startled at the unconditional promise. Swallowing hard, he found himself nodding, reassured against his will.

“…Yes.”

Impulse took him—he stuck out his little finger.

“You’ll promise me, won’t you?”

The words made him cringe the instant they escaped his lips. Even Camillus faltered at the childish gesture. For an awkward moment, neither moved. Then Camillus extended his finger too.

“Promise.”

Their fingers hooked together.

Ion felt foolishly dazed. Why does he always make my chest ache like this?

Then light shone faintly from Camillus’s other hand. When it dimmed, a necklace lay there—set with a gem like the mana stone Ion’s father had handed him. Passing it softly into Ion’s grasp, he smiled.

“As proof of our promise—take this. It’ll be easier than clutching a loose stone all the time.”

He draped it tenderly around Ion’s neck himself. The warmth of his hand near Ion’s collar sent a shiver up his spine, but once done—Ion touched the pendant and let a quiet smile rise to his lips.

Simple, elegant, the jewel gleamed ocean-blue, like Camillus’s eyes.

Absentmindedly fingering it, Ion murmured, “Thank you, Camillus.”

“…And keep this one with you always.”

Camillus passed him Yomnyong, newly shrunken to pocket-size. Hugging the dragon close, Ion asked, “Was he yours, before?”

“A disobedient creature… but yes.”

Not a denial. No wonder the two seemed familiar.

Whatever link bound them, Yomnyong evidently preferred Ion now—already wriggling adorably into his tunic.

“Kkuuung, kku.”

Ion stroked the tiny head poking from his collar. The dragon yawned, kitten-like.

Sleepy already.

So the clandestine moment drew to its end. The small grove connected directly to the Duke’s grounds; it wouldn’t be long before pursuers came sniffing.

Ion stepped back, waving softly.

“See you again. Thank you for bringing me.”

Farewell should be short, he reminded himself. But just as he turned, Camillus’s voice, laden with yearning, stopped him.

“…Ion.”

The breeze shifted, brushing Camillus’s hair aside, revealing his pale face fully. Calm eyes, faintly furrowed brows—all sharpened into a quietly sorrowful expression.

Ion’s chest stung.

“Yes?”

“…It’s I who should thank you.”

He left the question for what unspoken. There would be at least three more meetings. He’d ask then.

Instead, he smiled faintly and waved back, before striding off toward the manor gate.

Ten minutes at most to reach the Duke’s side-entrance. But even so, his frail body heaved with exhaustion.

[Player’s current probability of death: 27%]

Despite the flowing mana, his survival odds had risen—perhaps because the energy had not yet fully spread.

Servants gasped at his pallor, hustled him through. The butler rushed to support him. Inside the grand hall—his furious father already waiting. There was no time for scolding about “fraternizing again with that bastard.”

For Ion, crimson had already spilled from his nose.

Even under “Overflowing Mana,” physical symptoms had broken through mercilessly. Blood refused to stop until his head spun.

The Duke, alarmed, ordered physicians at once. After treatment, Ion finally slipped into sleep.

At his bedside, Yomnyong—tiny once more—was weeping puddles of tears.

Footnotes:

• Survival Probability (%): A system mechanic perpetually recalculating Ion’s chance of death. Falling below 20% remains impossible unless bolstered by others’ mana.
• Promise Ritual: The “pinky-swear” gesture, though childish, gains weight when sealed by magic into a mana-stone necklace.

Camillus’s Ownership of Yomnyong: Confirms prior bond; yet the dragon now clings to Ion, symbolizing transition of loyalty.