Chapter 269: Dragon Queen’s Captivity

Fafnir continued staring at Victor, trying to decide whether she should attack him again or simply ignore the vampire until he gave up bothering her.

The second option seemed quite tempting.

Victor, however, showed no intention of leaving her alone. He rose from the blood armchair, approached calmly, and observed the dragon’s suspicious expression.

"What do you want now?" she asked.

"To talk."

"Then talk from over there!"

"No. I think I have a better idea."

Before Fafnir could ask what he intended to do, Victor extended one hand. The blood still scattered across the ground began to move, forming four chains that quickly wrapped around her wrists and ankles. The chains pulled her limbs close to her body, preventing her from attacking with her claws or trying to kick him.

Fafnir’s eyes widened.

"YOU BASTARD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

Victor crouched and slipped one arm behind her back and the other beneath her knees.

Then he lifted her into his arms like a princess.

Fafnir froze.

Her brain seemed to take several seconds to comprehend what had just happened.

She looked at Victor’s face, then at her own arms bound by the chains, and finally at the ground, which was now a considerable distance beneath her feet.

"...What?"

Victor began walking back toward the armchair.

"The best way to have a conversation is to relax."

Fafnir slowly raised her face.

"Excuse me?"

"You’ve been irritated ever since you saw me. We’re not going to get anywhere like that." Victor smiled. "So I’m going to help you relax a little."

Fafnir opened her mouth.

No words came out.

She had been a Dragon Queen.

She had faced armies, destroyed fortresses, and accumulated an absurd amount of wealth throughout her existence.

But never, in her entire life, had someone simply appeared in her territory, tied up her arms and legs, and decided to carry her like a princess as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Victor reached the armchair, sat down, and settled Fafnir on his lap.

She remained completely motionless.

"There."

Victor adjusted her position so she wouldn’t slip.

"Now we can talk."

Fafnir looked at him.

Then she looked away.

’This man...’

She no longer knew what to think.

Victor seemed quite pleased with her silence.

"I’ll start."

He leaned back against the armchair.

"I think it’s only fair to tell you a little about myself before I start asking you questions."

Fafnir kept looking the other way.

Victor continued:

"Especially because I need to show you I’m not just some random idiot who happened to show up here."

That finally drew a reaction from her.

"You literally cut open your own stomach to offer me your entrails!"

"And you didn’t want them."

"THAT’S NOT THE POINT!"

Victor laughed.

"All right, all right. Listen."

He grew a little more serious.

"I died once."

Fafnir slowly turned her face toward him.

"...What?"

"I died. For real."

Victor looked up at the reddish sky of that world.

"And then I came back."

The dragon narrowed her eyes.

"Impossible."

"That’s what happened."

"There’s no magic capable of simply bringing someone back after death!"

"I didn’t say it was ordinary magic."

"Even the Shadow of Time couldn’t simply—"

Fafnir stopped.

Victor noticed immediately.

"Shadow of Time?"

She closed her mouth.

"Forget it."

Victor studied her face for a moment but didn’t press her.

"Anyway, it wasn’t exactly a resurrection. I went back into the past."

Fafnir stared at him.

"You’re lying."

"I’m not."

"Something like that is impossible!"

"That’s what I thought, too."

Victor began to tell his story.

He spoke about his first life, the illness that had accompanied him since birth, and how his body had been unable to absorb blood properly. He explained that, despite being born a vampire, he had spent practically his entire existence confined to a bed, depending on other people even to survive.

Fafnir didn’t interrupt while he told her about Serafall.

Victor described the years in which his mother had used her own blood essence to keep him alive, trying to find a cure that never came. He told her about the treatments, the doctors, the experiments, and the many times they had believed they had found a solution.

None of them worked.

"I was a little over twenty when I died," Victor remarked, keeping his tone calm. "I spent practically my whole life hearing stories about places I never got to visit."

Fafnir continued studying his face.

"Then an opportunity to return appeared."

Victor explained what he knew about his reincarnation, about Morgana Scarlet, and about the fact that he had awakened in a different era from the one in which he had previously lived.

He didn’t tell her everything.

Some things were still difficult to explain, even for him.

But he said enough for Fafnir to understand that he wasn’t inventing a story just to impress her.

She had lived long enough to recognize when someone tried to manipulate a conversation through lies. Besides, the energy circulating in Victor’s soul displayed characteristics that didn’t entirely match his age or his current existence.

That didn’t prove every detail of his story.

But Fafnir began to realize that he truly believed everything he was saying.

And that there was something profoundly strange about the vampire’s existence.

Victor finished telling her how he had died.

Then he looked at her.

"Now it’s your turn."

Fafnir frowned.

"My turn for what?"

"How were you sealed?"

Her expression changed immediately.

Her golden eyes flashed with anger, and her tail moved so forcefully that it struck the side of the armchair.

Victor waited.

Fafnir remained silent for several seconds before finally answering.

"A hero."

Victor arched an eyebrow.

"A hero?"

"A bastard who invaded my nest."

She gritted her teeth.

"He showed up with a sword, accompanied by other humans who thought they were doing something grand. They invaded my territory, destroyed my defenses, and tried to steal my treasures."

Victor remained quiet.

Fafnir continued:

"I wasn’t attacking any cities. I wasn’t destroying kingdoms. I wasn’t interested in those insects’ insignificant wars."

Her voice grew more irritated.

"I just wanted my riches!"

She looked at the enormous mountains of gold scattered across the valley.

"I collected treasures because I liked them. Gold, silver, precious stones, ancient weapons, crowns—anything that caught my interest."

Victor followed her gaze.

Fafnir continued:

"The gleam of gold and silver was what made me happiest. I could spend entire days arranging my collections, searching for rare pieces, and imagining where I would find my next treasure."

She looked back at Victor.

"My dream was to possess every treasure in the world."

Victor smiled.

"A rather ambitious dream."

Fafnir narrowed her eyes.

"Are you going to call me greedy, too?"

"You are greedy."

She bared her teeth.

"But I don’t necessarily think that’s bad," Victor continued.

Fafnir stopped.

He shrugged.

"You wanted to have every treasure in the world. So what?"

"...What?"

"Dreaming of more isn’t a crime."

Victor looked at the mountains of gold.

"There are different kinds of greed. Some people want power, some want money, and some want status. Some people spend their entire lives trying to conquer territories. Others want to become the strongest creatures in existence."

He looked back at her.

"You wanted treasures."

Fafnir remained silent.

"I don’t see any reason to judge that as something bad just because your dream was different from someone else’s."

"I wanted to possess everything," she murmured.

"And you probably never would have managed it."

Fafnir grimaced.

Victor laughed.

"But that doesn’t mean you couldn’t try."

She slowly lowered her eyes.

Victor continued:

"People who call someone greedy sometimes just can’t understand an ambition greater than their own. I’m not saying anything goes when it comes to getting what you want. But wanting more, by itself, isn’t wrong."

Fafnir fell silent.

It was the first time anyone had spoken that way about her dream.

Throughout her existence, she had heard countless times that her obsession with riches was shameful, contemptible, or unworthy of a dragon. Others said she should use her power to conquer territories or establish dominion over inferior creatures.

But she had never wanted any of that.

She wanted to discover beautiful things.

She wanted to find treasures no one had ever seen.

She wanted to accumulate riches simply because looking at them made her happy.

And that vampire, who had invaded her prison and tried to force her to submit, seemed to understand that better than many creatures she had lived alongside for centuries.

Fafnir turned her face away.

’Why...’

She felt a strange discomfort in her chest.

’Why are this man’s words bothering me so much?’

Victor noticed that she had grown thoughtful.

"It must have been awful to be trapped here."

Fafnir looked back at him.

"...What?"

"You said you liked discovering treasures."

Victor pointed toward the valley.

"But now you can only look at the same things."

She remained motionless.

"You can’t leave, visit different places, or search for what you haven’t found yet."

Victor gave a faint laugh.

"I imagine it must be shit."

Fafnir studied his face.

"You don’t understand."

"Maybe not completely."

Victor rested his head against the back of the armchair.

"But I spent more than twenty years trapped in a bed."

She fell silent.

"I heard stories about cities, forests, mountains, and places I never got to visit. Everyone told me what the outside world was like, but all I could do was imagine it."

He looked at her.

"So I think I understand a little of that desire to get out and discover things for yourself."

Fafnir slowly lowered her face.

Her silence lasted several seconds.

Then she answered, much more quietly than before:

"It’s been two thousand years."

Victor didn’t interrupt.

"I haven’t spoken to anyone in two thousand years."

She looked at her own hands, still bound by the blood chains.

"I’m here all the time. Alone."

Fafnir took a deep breath.

"The only thing I feel is the ripple of my own corruption."

Victor watched her expression.

Fafnir brought one hand to her chest, moving her fingers with difficulty because of the chains.

"My soul is dying of grief."

She looked at the mountains of treasure.

"I was free. I could fly wherever I wanted, search for anything that caught my interest, and spend entire years traveling without having to answer to anyone."

Her voice grew even quieter.

"Now I can’t even get out of this sword."

Victor fell silent.

"I hate this place."

She gritted her teeth.

"Everything here reminds me of what I lost."

Victor nodded slowly.

"I imagine the feeling of being trapped is worse than the loneliness itself."

Fafnir raised her eyes.

Victor continued:

"When you’re alone, at least you can still do something for yourself. You can find a new goal, discover something different, or simply learn to enjoy your own company."

He looked at the chains still wrapped around her body.

"But when you’re trapped, it doesn’t matter what you want to do."

Fafnir remained motionless.

"You can wish for something with all your strength and still be unable to move from where you are."

Victor let out a small sigh.

"That eventually becomes torture for someone who wants more out of life."

Fafnir felt her face grow warm.

She quickly looked away.

’Shit...’

She didn’t like that feeling.

She didn’t like realizing that she was agreeing with a man who, only a few minutes earlier, had tried to force her to bow before him.

Especially because Victor seemed to be speaking sincerely.