Evil Dragon, Without a Princess, I Had to Transform Myself!-Chapter 101 : It Can't Be Her

"Wait, what did you just say your name was?" Loranhir said. "Liu-what-kus? I didn't catch that."
For an instant, Loranhir felt like she had developed tinnitus. Her head rang faintly. Liulan's mouth kept moving, but she couldn't hear anything clearly. The world seemed to be on mute mode. Then, as if something was forcefully squeezed in.
Yanubi, who had never been particularly docile, instantly became obedient as if encountering some terrifying existence.
Liulan walked to the side without acknowledging her, bending down on her own to stroke the barely noticeable spell inscription beneath her feet—a foreign sulfurous odor.
"I've noticed it since earlier," Liulan said. "The sulfur smell of Hell, quite unpleasant."
"What's wrong?" Loranhir asked.
"Simply put, this is a trap."
"A trap?" Loranhir gripped her holy sword, looking around alertly.
"Don't be so nervous, kid. It's nothing serious. The devil stood us up."
Liulan thought for a moment.
"How strange. Devils are famous for being cunningly trustworthy. How did this one just bail out of the blue? Whatever, it's none of my business."
Halfway through speaking, Liulan directly sat back on the bench, poured two glasses of wine, then gestured for Loranhir to sit down.
"Boring trivial matters. We might as well talk about something serious."
"Something serious? Like what?" Loranhir asked reflexively.
Liulan propped her elbows on the table surface, hands folded under her chin, looking into Loranhir's eyes with a serious expression.
Loranhir felt that this Liu-something-sus person talked about Hell one moment, then devils the next, all with an indifferent attitude.
Now suddenly wanting to mention something serious—could it be issuing some legendary quest?
Just as Loranhir thought Liulan was going to mention topics like continental rifts, the kingdom's end, or the wails of countless living beings...
"You have someone you like, don't you?" Liulan smiled mysteriously.
"..."
Loranhir froze. Her cheeks flushed slightly pink, but she quickly composed herself—gone in an instant.
"You've had too much to drink, haven't you?"
"Hehe, you can't fool me. That reaction confirms it—one casual probe and you're exposed." Liulan grinned mischievously. "Looking at your reaction, she's been by your side all along, hasn't she?"
"Want to consider having me help hide a ring in your wine glass?" Liulan's face remained composed as she tempted her. "Guaranteed to be a big surprise."
"A ring or something... uh, I think that's way too premature," Loranhir grimaced. "What on earth are you thinking?"
"If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave. I need to go find the Prin—" Her sixth sense suddenly kicked in, and Loranhir swallowed the "Princess" that was about to come out. She didn't know why, just had an intuition, as if saying it out loud would cause something bad to happen.
"Prin-what?" Liulan raised her glass for a sip, suddenly frowning, becoming alert.
"Prin-cipal... normal female friend I'm publicly acquainted with." Loranhir promptly provided a revised definition.
"People who like someone secretly all say that." Liulan replied.
"...Here we go again." Loranhir seriously denied it.
"Ah, how pitiful," Liulan shook her head while smelling the wine's aroma. "Secretly liking someone, without demands, not seeking reciprocation, satisfied to the depths of your heart just by an accidental encounter, a single exchange of glances. Such simple happiness."
"...That's about enough." Loranhir gritted her teeth as if getting fierce.
"I'm doing this for your own good," Liulan patiently explained, her words sincere. "Some things, if you don't do them now, you'll never have another chance."
"If you meet a girl you like, don't hesitate—directly snatch her over. Cut the axle of the carriage if you need to cut it, kill all the people blocking the road if you need to kill them. Use whatever means necessary. No matter what, just do it first.
Liulan swayed her wine glass, gazing at the amber liquid rippling within, those strands of pale golden memories from years ago.
"If you don't dare to act because you're afraid of failure, you won't even have the final fantasy left." Liulan said quietly.
Admitting mistakes is difficult, especially after being wrong for so long.
Liulan liked her and wanted to cherish her, yet found it hard to understand her.
One clear and pure, one solitary and proud.
The clear one like dandelions blown across the sky, the solitary one like the deep black of night.
Actually she really wanted to say it, really wanted to do it, but she didn't dare.
"The way you're talking, it gives me a strong sense of someone speaking from experience..." Loranhir suddenly said.
"...Just shut up!" Liulan glared at her fiercely, somewhat agitated.
Loranhir shivered hard, completely unable to control it, as if a cold snake had slithered across her throat.
With that, there wasn't much more to say. Loranhir picked up a napkin to wipe her sweat, thinking it was about time to go find the Princess and the others.
Having been gone so long, who knows what they'd been up to.
She left the sullen Liulan alone. Before she'd walked a few steps, she heard hurried footsteps approaching. The breathless Shatina directly burst through the door and rushed in.
"Patron, Patron withdrew her money and ran!" Shatina shouted as soon as she entered.
"...Huh?" Loranhir froze. "Withdrew and ran?"
Loranhir silently looked toward the door, beginning to ponder whether the Princess, being with them, was angry or mentally disturbed.
"Patron?" On the other side, Liulan slowly raised her head. "Who?"
○
Patunasankus pushed open the door and walked in. The vampires waiting by the door didn't stop her—they had already received orders.
Inside was a huge oak table. Standing in the room at this moment were all pale faces. The vast majority of these faces had never appeared under the light of day, each one pallid as if they'd just crawled out of coffins, everyone wearing old black tailcoats.
In the center surrounded by the vampires, Dreka turned around, looking somewhat surprised at Patunasankus who had come alone.
"Oh? I didn't expect you to come alone," Dreka said. "What about your newly recruited mage attendant? She abandoned you?"
"I ditched her." Patunasankus said indifferently.
Dreka's subordinates exchanged glances, their eyes carrying some objection. They'd seen people unafraid of death, but someone completely indifferent like this Princess was truly rare. They vigilantly watched Patunasankus, wary that the cunning hero letting the Princess appear alone must be some scheme.
The Hell Princess hadn't responded to their message—she must have already fled.
"Come here to die?" Dreka laughed. "Your Highness the Princess is much braver than I imagined. Compared to your father who fears death, and your incompetent, jealous sister, you're obviously far more interesting. It's truly a pity for me..."
Dreka said indifferently.
"Alright, alright," Patunasankus grew impatient. She hated most when people brought up her parents. "Stop the nonsense, I'm in a hurry. Can we get to the point quickly?"
"..."
Dreka took a deep breath, suppressing his displeasure. People this eager to die were truly rare. He could only put on a gentle smile again.
"...As you wish." Dreka raised his glass in salute.
He stood up from where he sat calmly, released the wine glass in his hand—it fell naturally, shattering on the ground, deep red wine liquid splattering.
The next moment, elongated screams stretched dozens of times slowly tore through the air.
Patunasankus lowered her head and saw blood spreading at Dreka's feet. The churning blood plasma gathered into human forms, countless faces twisted into a mass, like an artwork rendering despair.
A blood-colored domain was released by Dreka, like a stone dropped into a calm lake surface, but this stone stirred up monstrous waves.
"Although not yet fully formed, lacking the scale of when released by ancient true ancestors, as long as I fulfill the contract and offer enough souls to Hell, my advancement will naturally be no problem. How about letting the Princess become its first sacrifice upon reappearing in the world?"
Patunasankus ignored Dreka's monologue. She looked around, calculating how much firepower she'd need to use to not lose this bunch while also not attracting Liulan's attention.
"Looking for your hero? Don't waste your effort." Dreka said. "As long as one soul still exists, I am immortal. Power and strength are within my grasp. Even the strongest hero Loranhir cannot kill me in one strike.
Why not guess how many souls I've accumulated over these hundreds of years to complete my wish and invested into this blood river? And going forward, how many souls from Taolante can be absorbed into it?"
"Power and strength? You believe in power and strength too?" Patunasankus had about calculated the right amount and prepared to act. "You understand this rule better than anyone else I've met, but those who believe in this rule generally only face one outcome."
"Oh? What outcome?"
"..."
Patunasankus didn't want to keep up the act anymore.
Whatever blood river, whatever souls, whatever hellish nonsense—just burn it all clean with dragon flames and be done with it.
She closed her eyes. In the pitch-black eyelids, fiercely burning golden flames filled her pupils.
Dragon scales hidden beneath her skin surfaced. The dandelion hair turned into death god's iconic black, losing its color.
This was it.
Her predetermined endpoint.
As long as she dealt with this self-important rotting flesh before her, the evil dragon could return to her lair and sleep for a hundred thousand years, never having to wear that taut expression day after day, never having to rack her brains over all sorts of strange matters.
No matter how complex and varied the outside world was, she would forever remain simple, uncontrolled by material desires, no longer caring about gains and losses.
Inner coldness, indifference and calm observation toward many things, unhurried, living slowly.
Afterward, all that would dominate her would be year-round waveless tranquility, like the lake-colored sky at dusk.
"Farewell."
In just an instant, Patunasankus was ready to transform into her killing form. Deeper than the blood river before her, a reaper-like domain seemed about to surge from her body, ready to blow away the blood-colored boundary in front of her in the next moment.
Just as Dreka thought he had easily succeeded, and Patunasankus was about to charcoal-roast the bacon, a white figure leaped out from the shadows.
It was Elaphia.
At some unknown point, she had charged over, scooping up Patunasankus who stood there at a loss, along the corridor attempting to carry the Princess toward somewhere safer.
Patunasankus looked at Elaphia, whom she hadn't seen in many days, and tilted her head. She instinctively adjusted herself, finding a more comfortable position.
"Hello?" she said hesitantly.
"Who told you to come here?" Elaphia held Patunasankus and ran wildly. Behind them were vampires who had already reacted and were urgently giving chase.
"I already said I could handle it!"
"I'll go wherever I want, it's none of your business..." Patunasankus pouted, about to argue properly, until her peripheral vision suddenly sensed a presence not far away.
Elaphia was worrying about how to deal with Patunasankus's princess syndrome when suddenly she noticed the Princess had become completely still and silent, curled up into a ball like a rabbit, quietly nestled in her embrace.
The whole person inexplicably became docile.
"..."
Patunasankus fell silent.
There was only one reason that could make her this quiet.
That Liulan woman was nearby!
○
At the same time, on the other side in private box 666.
"So where is she!" Loranhir grabbed Shatina's collar and asked.
"I don't know!" Shatina looked wronged. "She said she was going to the restroom, then she just ran off."
"She couldn't have been kidnapped by the Grand Duke at an opportune moment..."
"What a natural sacred kidnapping body." Shatina muttered.
Liulan ignored their squabbling. Honestly, she didn't care about the situation with the benefactor they were talking about.
She silently walked to the window and looked outside. Blood water gradually spread through the opera house. Just from the smell, she knew this was troublesome stuff.
But Liulan had no interest in it. She was an evil dragon—just not causing trouble herself already required people's gratitude.
This attitude of it-being-none-of-her-business had been maintained for a long time.
Until she inadvertently saw the outline of a figure at the end of the distant corridor in the distance—inconspicuously charming, yet charmingly inconspicuous.
As if it were a phantom she had once witnessed, before evaporating, giving her eyes washed to the extreme a gradually fading silhouette.
"...Latifa?" Liulan murmured.
She stared with those astonished, dazed eyes, black and white distinctly clear, timidly gazing at that person.
That outline, that demeanor, that attire, and that dandelion-long hair dancing in the wind, that compelling beauty made Liulan freeze completely.
Her heart was gently struck by something strange, suddenly emptying.
What was chasing her—was it her soul wanting to rush out, or was it the soul of the world imprinted on her heart, wanting to break in?
"No, it can't be her."
In an instant, Liulan awoke from the illusory dream, her mood naturally sinking to rock bottom.
She knew that dead people would never be encountered again in this world.
Liulan knew herself to be different from Patunasankus, that pitiful dragon immersed in fantasy.
She had clear awareness, and thus knew that the figure before her was nothing more than so-called fantasy.
Though this fantasy was truly very enchanting, very enchanting.
But ultimately it was just...
"Just fantasy."
Liulan's expression was resolute.