Evil Dragon, Without a Princess, I Had to Transform Myself!-Chapter 82 : Let's Sleep a Little Longer

The evil dragon's lair has always adhered to these three rules:
First, every decision made by Lord Patunasankus is wise.
If you doubt her judgment, it is undoubtedly your own delusion at play. Her steps always lead in the right direction, and any skepticism is a blasphemy against her wisdom.
Second, Patunasankus never makes mistakes.
If any seemingly erroneous signs appear, please refer back to the first rule. There is always profound meaning behind her actions, which mortals may fail to comprehend momentarily, but time will ultimately reveal their greatness.
Third, if you unfortunately anger Lord Patunasankus, then seek out Her Highness Latifa with the utmost speed.
Her purity and nobility may atone for your foolish actions, allowing you to narrowly escape punishment.
As the head maid of the evil dragon, Isha naturally had these three rules of the lair engraved in her heart, and she would never question any decision made by her master.
Patunasankus was always right, and Isha understood this perfectly well—but that didn't stop her from quietly grumbling about sudden developments. Or from speculating about her master's thoughts.
Isha ordered a few intimidating-looking dragonkin scouts to search the vicinity for Hedica's traces. After all, it was their master's command, so it had to be carried out immediately.
Then she scrutinized Serina up and down, frowning slightly with the serious air of a judge evaluating a score. She muttered under her breath, "What exactly did Lord find lacking about her?"
Meanwhile, after a brief daze, Serina regained her composure. She looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings—Hedica, her sworn knight and protector, was nowhere to be seen. The only person in sight was an unfamiliar maid, whose gaze was rather peculiar, as if trying to see right through her.
"Where... where am I?" Serina blinked in confusion. "Where's Hedica?"
Her memories were fragmented—vague yet significant, significant yet disjointed.
First, there was a city plummeting into hell, flames raging skyward, and a tall figure clapping mockingly at her overconfidence—so much so that she hadn't read every clause of the contract carefully, leaving her soul ripe for harvesting.
And then, as if decisively, she had used some kind of spell.
Her vision had abruptly shrunk, exploiting some loophole in the contract to evade the harvest. After that, Hedica had found her and helped her escape.
Somewhere in her memories, a young girl appeared—holding an exquisite fairy tale book with slender fingers, her long hair flowing, quiet and sweet. A face that felt familiar, yet just out of reach.
And in that memory, Serina had been well-behaved, resting her chin in her hands, listening motionless beside her.
Who was she?
Serina combed through her memories but couldn't recall the girl's name—only that she had long hair the color of dandelions.
The onslaught of fragmented memories left Serina utterly disoriented, to the point where she couldn't even spare attention to realize her current tattered state.
She clutched her head, furrowing her brows, occasionally letting out a whimper as her vision blurred once more.
Isha, standing nearby, wasn't sure how to react. She figured she should inform Lord Patunasankus first.
She studied Serina carefully, her fingers dancing deftly as she nodded slowly, tracing a magical sigil before pointing to the path on the left.Isha was just about to exhale when her peripheral vision suddenly caught Serina's figure blurring in the air, as if an invisible force was coiling around her once more.
Her body began to shrink slowly—every inch of skin, every strand of hair...
In the blink of an eye, she had reverted to her previous form—a naive little girl.
The tattered rags she wore were the most obvious change, now so torn they could barely be called clothing, leaving large patches of skin exposed.
"What's this?" Serina curiously pinched a corner of the fabric and gave it a sharp tug. Another ripping sound followed, and the already-fragmented garment was utterly gone.
Left with no choice, Isha unbuttoned her black-and-white outer robe and gently wrapped it around Serina to keep her from catching a chill.
"I’ll take you back first," she said, carrying Serina as she walked. "Patunasankus’ lair is quite spacious—you can sleep wherever you like."
Before leaving, the draconian scouts sent to search for Hedica returned empty-handed, having failed to locate their target. However, they seemed to have discovered something else.
"There’s still the scent of hellish sulfur in the shadows... Are you saying there were others watching us from the dark earlier? Why didn’t you notice them before?"
Isha frowned.
"Hellish sulfur... Devils?"
○
The restless infernal winds howled endlessly.
This was the Nine Hells, the stronghold of devils.
Devils were among the most despised entities across the multiverse.
Unlike the chaotic demons who endlessly chanted "Blood for the Blood God, skulls for the Skull Throne," devils took pleasure in corrupting and twisting mortal minds and values, luring them into damnation with relentless persistence, extracting every last drop of worth from their contracted souls.
The scorching dry wind sought out the weakest spots, stinging every inch of exposed skin, carrying the acrid stench of sulfur. Hedica finally awoke, sweat trickling down her face like tiny insects, an unbearable itch more torturous than pain.
Amid the restless winds, a voice spoke—undeniably feminine, its tone deliberately elegant with a drawn-out cadence, as if belonging to someone accustomed to giving orders.
"Where is Serina? I told you to bring her to me. Did I not make it clear that you were not to return without capturing this contract-breaking Princess?" she said.
"Serina... Serina was... taken. The presence alone was enough to know we stood no chance—we didn’t dare reveal ourselves..."
The other voice faltered, thick with fear.
"And her? What exactly am I supposed to do with her?"
Hedica opened her eyes. In the distance stretched a desert-like expanse of crimson sand, where blood-filled streams flowed into the River Styx, and agonized screams seemed endless.
Closer by, within a palace-like hall fit for nobility, stood a tall, regal young woman with crimson hair the color of roses. Her playful gaze carried a sharp edge.
A slender, elongated index finger pointed directly at her—like the barrel of a gun.Hedica tilted her head, and the swaying fingertip realigned its aim at her, as if she had nowhere to escape.
"We thought she might be of use to Your Highness..." A suspected subordinate devil of the opposing side groveled on the ground, trembling. "A thousand apologies, Princess Tiana."
"After finally tracking down this princess who tried to evade her debts, all you had to do was capture her—yet you failed." The girl called Tiana grew angrier just thinking about it, pacing back and forth in the hall.
"Who added that underage clause to the soul contract? Devils aren’t even allowed to harvest children’s souls—utter nonsense, absolutely ridiculous!"
"But, but... their strength was simply too lacking," the lead subordinate devil attempted to justify, shifting the blame entirely onto his underlings.
Tiana didn’t bother listening to excuses. "Kill him. Make it quick."
The hellish guards stationed nearby obeyed without hesitation, dragging the subordinate devil out. His screams and pleas echoed through the narrow corridor, followed by a dull thud—the sound of an axe cleaving flesh.
His underlings could vividly imagine the scene, even without witnessing it firsthand. Seeing that Tiana showed no intention of punishing them, they allowed themselves a faint expression of relief.
Tiana glanced at them and waved a hand dismissively.
"Drag them out and execute them too."
"Useless fools. Must I handle everything myself?"
"...I wonder if I can settle this mess during the break from running Father’s errands."
Completely ignoring their ensuing wails and pleas for mercy, Tiana adjusted her appearance with slow, elegant movements, as though preparing for a high-society banquet. Before leaving, she even flashed Hedica a smile.
"As for you... You’re awake. The teleportation was a success. Welcome to hell, sweetheart."
"I am Tiana Mutinio, daughter of the Archdevil Metoran. I believe you’ll spend a painful era here." As she spoke, the hellish princess Tiana slowly revealed a bloodthirsty, contemptuous grin.
○
For Patunasankus, fleeting illusions were a common occurrence.
Yesterday’s events felt like last year’s, and last year’s felt like yesterday’s. Sometimes, she even mistook tomorrow’s affairs for yesterday’s.
Absurd, yet strangely fitting.
Especially when the face she showed to outsiders in one moment transformed into an entirely different one the next.
Such fleeting shifts barely stirred her heart.
Yet they lasted just long enough for her illusory self to collide with the presence of someone long gone.
It was a bit like acting—except her entire life was the script.
Sometimes, Patunasankus foolishly hinted to herself:
Walk the same path, meet entirely different people.
Whisper and hear familiar echoes in return, gaze at the clear sky, imagine tiny flowers still in bloom, dress herself in familiar garments—believing that this alone could return her to the world she had lost.
At the very least, closing her eyes made her feel as though she had truly stepped back into that vibrant past.
"Princess?"
"Your Highness?"
"Princess Latifa!""...?!"
Patunasankus snapped out of her daze, rubbing her bleary eyes vigorously until Loranhir's clear features came into focus. She nodded slowly in response to the name being called.
"What's wrong?"
"Your Highness, didn't you sleep well?" Loranhir asked energetically.
"No, just had a dream." Patunasankus shook her head.
She had returned quite early in the evening, barely making it back to the carriage before Loranhir woke up.
Before she could even doze off properly, the bumpy journey resumed.
Evil dragons didn't need regular sleep like humans—they typically slumbered for long periods before waking to wreak havoc. But during this trip, influenced by those around her, Patunasankus had developed a habit of light naps.
Sitting up, the princess lazily yawned and stretched.
Loranhir noticed the princess's fatigue with some concern. The rough journey could easily make one ill—proper rest was essential.
"We've reached a tavern in Taurant's outskirts. Why don't you rest here awhile, Princess?" Loranhir suggested.
Rain began falling outside.
The pair pushed open the tavern's creaky wooden door. The sparsely populated interior was unusually bright, golden light illuminating every corner and the silk-like rain outside the windows.
Patunasankus said nothing. She requested a room and ascended the squeaky wooden stairs to the second floor, enveloped in the hazy glow of lanterns.
Alone in the suddenly quiet room, she studied her shadow cast on the wall—a sight as familiar as her own bones.
Meanwhile, Loranhir took a corner seat.
The tavern's fireplace crackled warmly as she ordered aged rum from the middle-aged proprietor to ward off the chill.
Neighboring patrons chatted quietly, occasional laughter drifting over. The familiar scent of damp wood mingling with alcohol—a rainy night's signature tavern aroma—relaxed her.
Only two tasks remained: retrieving Elaphia and dealing with Grand Duke Dreka. After days of close contact with Yanubi, Loranhir found the fearsome vampire... not particularly intimidating.
Really, what could be scarier than the dragon in her dreams?
As these thoughts drifted through her mind, a profound sense of comfort settled over Loranhir. She leaned back in the wooden chair, awaiting her rum.
Bang!
Something heavy slammed onto the table, visibly stirring dust. Unless the proprietor had hurled an entire rum barrel, nothing should make that noise.
Loranhir's eyes traveled from the greatsword now embedded in the table upward to the towering figure blocking the fireplace's glow. Heavy plate armor clanked with each movement.
"The Saintess wishes to see your princess," the newcomer declared.
○
Meanwhile, in the second-floor room, Patunasankus dreamed.
She dreamed of humiliating herself.Losing someone very important, waking up in a daze, only to realize it wasn't a nightmare at all. It was a rewind.
She often said, 'Death comes in three layers.'
Patunasankus paid no heed, nor did she truly listen.
She had no interest in philosophy. To her, the world was divided into two opposing sides—unified yet contradictory, neither purely black nor simply white.
Yet, beyond this, she had a world of her own. People or matters outside that world held no meaning to her, and she couldn't be bothered with them.
But sometimes, she found things amusing.
Thus, her eyes occasionally gleamed with curiosity toward the world, and the words she spoke carried a rare humor and teasing tone.
"Death comes in three layers."
Patunasankus enunciated each word with perfect clarity.
She closed her eyes.
Just a little longer.