Evil Dragon, Without a Princess, I Had to Transform Myself!-Chapter 76 : Thin Tears

The memories were all of tiny things, glimmering like light. Her smile, the way she tucked her hair behind her ear.
There were always sunny days, with hyacinths in full bloom atop the bushes.
There was always a girl in a white dress strolling leisurely through the green fields, the breeze lifting her skirt and the ends of her hair—her dandelion-colored locks dancing in the wind. The fields were planted with fresh tea leaves, blooming with wildflowers, dotted with slender barnyard grass.
Patunasankus had always been a capricious evil dragon, indifferent to the wealth, fame, and trends most evil dragons pursued.
But every time she saw her, it was as though she had found a golden thread connecting everything, a magnifying glass reflecting all beauty. It seemed as though everything had changed, yet remained exactly the same.
Once, when Patunasankus asked her why she was always so cheerful—
"Sunshine never needs to be asked to pour down in abundance," she said.
Another line borrowed from some book.
"You can't fool everyone," the girl flashed a mischievous smile, as if seeing right through him. "You're singing in your heart, you big silly dragon. Don’t think no one notices. I’ll always be here with you because of that—whether you like it or not."
Patunasankus didn’t understand, nor had she ever realized what she truly meant by those words.
She had always been tone-deaf—after all, one couldn’t expect an evil dragon to burst into song. To Patunasankus, such behavior was pointless and bewildering.
Her nature had always been straightforward. The world had its rights and wrongs, and even an evil dragon knew that—but she was always right. When trouble arose, a breath of Dragon Fire settled everything, no matter how twisted.
She had always lived this way, and no one had ever given her a chance to change.
To Patunasankus, the world was black and white—but she was color. The only color in an evil dragon’s life.
No one had ever asked Patunasankus how she lived before meeting her.
But if someone did, the evil dragon would answer:
Before her, she had no life.
After her, she had none either.
So many things—warmth, conversations, gestures, details—could be recalled with closed eyes, yet upon opening them, it felt as though they had never happened at all. A fleeting encounter, never to cross paths again.
She seemed to be desperately searching for something lost in this world, faintly aware that her efforts were doomed to disappointment.
Her mind knew the outcome, yet stubborn desire drove her forward.
Patunasankus didn’t know what she had done after leaving Isha. Lost in her own thoughts, she let the familiar yet blurred face quietly fade away—like a volcanic eruption in the sea of memories, molten lava scorching the heart’s warmth before instantly cooling.
She hated this feeling.
And when Patunasankus finally snapped back to reality, she found herself sitting quietly by a lakeside, the water reflecting the image of a black-haired girl—expressionless, as always.
The girl who saw the world in black and white hadn’t always been so solitary. Occasionally, an inadvertent flicker of emotion would be easily caught—and then, the Princess would turn to her, smiling softly, tilting her head slightly as she spoke, all while gazing into her eyes.
As if searching for a fleeting minnow in the clear depths of a spring.Patunasankus instinctively reached out her hand, then paused, suddenly feeling an emptiness in her heart.
A gentle breeze swept down from the sky, causing her fingers to twitch slightly, as if trying to grasp this fresh, soft wind—but it had already slipped quietly through her fingers.
Patunasankus let out a long sigh. Her fingertips lightly traced the lake's surface, creating ripples that seemed to lift a veil.
After a few breaths, the water calmed again. The dark-haired girl who had been there was gone, replaced by another.
Young and lovely, with long dandelion-colored hair. The moon was at the lake's center, and so was she; the moon floated on the water's surface, and so did she.
The ripples were as gentle as moonlight, the moonlight as tender as the waves in her eyes—yet those eyes had already vanished without a trace.
As Patunasankus raised her head, a fleeting silver ripple passed through her gaze, disappearing as quickly as it came.
She stood up and gently spread her hand across the cold water, motionless, as if pressing against someone's warm palm.
For a brief moment, Patunasankus suddenly felt she was on the verge of discovering something.
But the thought remained as elusive as flowers reflected in a mirror or the moon cast upon water—always just out of reach.
Just as she was lost in this confusion, distant calls reached her ears.
"Princess?"
"Princess!"
"—Princess Latifa!!?"
Patunasankus jolted as if startled awake, rubbing her eyes vigorously as if dust had gotten into them.
She quickly scanned her surroundings, as though afraid someone might be watching.
It wasn't hard for Patunasankus to guess who was looking for her. The night was deep, and she had sneaked away from the campsite long ago—naturally, Loranhir and Elaphia would have noticed her absence and begun searching.
But the evil dragon had no intention of humoring them.
These pests are so annoying.
Patunasankus glared angrily in the direction of the voices.
"Princess, can you hear us?" Loranhir and Elaphia raised their voices slightly as they scoured the area for any sign of her.
"Where could she have gone in such a short time?" Loranhir asked Elaphia.
"I don't know. She was already gone when I returned from hunting."
Elaphia said worriedly.
"Good heavens, has the princess been kidnapped again? Did you see anyone suspicious?" she asked Loranhir. "You were the only one left at the camp earlier."
"The only suspicious one here is you," Loranhir told her. "You've got blood at the corner of your mouth and reek of it."
"…A girl's gotta eat," Elaphia shrugged in explanation.
Truthfully, Loranhir hadn't noticed anything.
She had been tormented by nightmares—dreams of an evil dragon named Yanubi hunting her down, eager to devour her whole. She hadn't slept well for several nights.
"...Alright, I've caught the scent."
Loranhir watched as Elaphia suddenly stopped, waving at her like an excited puppy wagging its tail.
"The princess's scent is this way."
"Are all vampires part dog?" Loranhir muttered weakly."What were you just saying?" Elaphia turned to ask her.
"I said vampires have really sharp noses," Loranhir pretended to compliment, then followed Elaphia's steps inside.
After walking a short while, they found the Princess.
She was sitting alone by the lake, hugging her knees, gazing blankly at the still water.
Her beauty remained peerless, capable of making fish sink and geese fall—yet it was different from usual.
Because the corners of her eyes seemed to glisten with a thin layer of tears.
○
What's wrong with the Princess?
I don’t know.
Loranhir and Elaphia exchanged glances, silently agreeing to approach and assess the situation first.
"Princess, are you crying?" Loranhir asked.
"I'm not," Patunasankus murmured, her eyes fixed on the distance.
For some reason, Loranhir sensed the Princess was grieving over something. Throughout their journey, she had never seen her emotions fluctuate like this—she didn’t know why.
It felt like longing, loneliness, sorrow, or perhaps the daze of having lost something.
"But you seem to be crying," Elaphia scrutinized Patunasankus and asked, "Did something sad happen?"
"I'm not," Patunasankus denied again.
"Really?" Loranhir pressed.
"What’s it to you?" Patunasankus grew increasingly irritated and suddenly snapped at her.
The evil dragon’s gaze turned icy—if Loranhir dared say another irrelevant word, she’d be frozen by that absolute-zero glare.
Loranhir shuddered, clutching her chest as if trying to coax her leaping heart back into place.
Elaphia leaned close and whispered in her ear. Loranhir listened, then nodded firmly—clearly understanding what to say in such a moment.
No flowery words, no pretense—just a simple, heartfelt thought.
Then, she smiled faintly at Patunasankus, like a ray of clumsy sunlight.
"Of course it matters to us."
"We don’t know how you feel, nor do we presume to, because we could never truly understand."
"But… but we just want you to know one thing, Princess."
"It’s because of you that we’re here. It’s because of you that we’ve come together."
Neither of them was eloquent, but sometimes, an unplanned sentence carried the weight of a lifetime’s lessons.
"We care about you," Elaphia smiled at her.
"To us, Princess Latifa, you’re someone very important," Loranhir added with a gentle smile.
Beyond that, Loranhir and Elaphia didn’t know what else to say.
After all, one was an uneducated village girl, and the other was a vampire spawn who lived like a rat. Even with Elaphia helping to phrase things, neither could muster any grand, sophisticated words."…La… me?"
Patunasankus stared straight at Loranhir's face, her delicate brows slightly furrowed.
As if pondering something, Patunasankus ignored her and silently gazed at the night sky in a daze.
A half-moon hung in the sky, radiating dazzlingly bright light.
It was the gentle capture and reflection of the sun's rays.
"You're insane."
Patunasankus suddenly said, lifting her leg to give Loranhir a kick.
Then, glancing at the smug Elaphia, she casually punched her too.
"And you too."
○
Later, Loranhir and Elaphia never brought up the matter with Patunasankus again. The two of them tacitly chose to forget this episode. Since the Princess didn’t want to talk about it, they simply let her be.
It’s easy to make someone do something, but making them willing is the hardest part.
If she’s willing to speak, they’ll listen. If she doesn’t want to share, that’s fine too. For Loranhir and Elaphia, as long as the Princess wasn’t actually kidnapped by someone, it was enough.
After all, without the Princess, they wouldn’t know how to live at all.
Especially now.
Thud thud thud—the kitchen knife chopped rhythmically on the cutting board.
Patunasankus’ movements were crisp and efficient, her cuts swift and precise. The vegetables she sliced were uniformly thin, evenly thick, and exquisitely carved, showcasing her masterful technique.
She poured lard into the pan, letting it melt and sizzle, then added the chopped meat, carrots, and onions, stirring them in the heat.
"So fragrant…"
Loranhir sat nearby as the rich aroma wafted from the large pot straight into her mind—she had never smelled anything so delicious before.
That fragrance carried the essence of a grand yet humble life, the comforting warmth woven from firewood, rice, oil, and salt, bringing infinite peace to the heart.
"What’s wrong?" she noticed the Princess suddenly walking up to her.
Right in front of Elaphia, Patunasankus snatched Loranhir’s holy sword and used it to add a few dry sticks to the fire.
Elaphia was already used to this—the concept of the "fire poker" was deeply ingrained.
"Here," Patunasankus tossed the holy sword back.
Loranhir stared at the grimy holy sword, unsure what to say. After a long pause, she could only muster one word.
"Thanks."
The evil dragon continued her work, an unusual seriousness in her demeanor.
Because someone liked it, Patunasankus had specifically learned to cook.
But despite her picky palate, she rarely cooked for herself, preferring to sample others’ dishes.
The reason was simple—laziness.
But now, there was truly no other choice.
A wild gust of wind swept by, and indistinct clouds raced across the sky, casting blurry shadows on the ground.
Patunasankus suddenly stopped and looked up at the sky. She clearly sensed the majesty of a dragon.
Even as all birds had returned to their nests, the sky still echoed with the sound of a pair of wings—beneath them, a storm; above them, clear skies.
Originally heading toward Taurant, it seemed something rare and intriguing had caught the dragon’s curiosity.The dragon veered erratically, ultimately heading off in another direction.
Even just by its silhouette, Patunasankus easily recognized this dragon.
Liulansankus.