There Is No World For ■■

The city’s night was silent.

No longer did dragons dance across the sky, nor did smoke rise in choking plumes, nor the moans of the dead echo through the streets.

Ruined buildings and bodies left to rot across the city were grim reminders of the day’s tragedy—but under the shroud of night, the darkness made no distinction between the living and the dead. It covered everything equally.

Somewhere, a child who’d lost their home dreamed. Somewhere else, the sleepless moon glanced over the city like a watchful eye.

And then, the silence was broken—by the sound of footsteps.

Not loud enough to rouse the slumbering city, but just enough to catch the attention of a dragon.

The red dragon, seated atop a ruined tower, turned its head just as Yeomyeong emerged from the rubble below.

He wore nothing heavy—no sword, not even a gun. Just light clothing.

[You’re late, Yeomyeong.]

“Apologies. Something came up.”

[No need to apologize. This much, I can understand.]

“...Understand? What do you mean?”

[A male with many mates is always short on time. All the dwarf kings I knew were the same.]

An answer he hadn’t expected. Yeomyeong swallowed his startled reaction and quickly changed the subject.

“Anything happen while you were waiting?”

[Fools tried to steal the bones. Quite a few of them, in fact.]

Orsé Tabul lowered his gaze as he said this.

There, beneath him, lay the bones of Kahal Magdu.

The massive skeleton remained as it was when he passed the heart to Yeomyeong, but all around it were scattered traces of disturbed earth—evidence of shallow digging.

Even in the chaos, there were lunatics hoping to strike it rich?

Well... there was never a shortage of treasure-hungry idiots. And if the treasure was dragon bones?

Yeomyeong shook his head and stepped closer to the remains of Kahal Magdu.

Just as he approached the massive skull, Orsé Tabul spoke again.

[Before sunset, I saw a missile fly across the sky, from beyond the city. Was that your doing, Yeomyeong?]

He saw the launched nuke? Of course he had—if even Pinel noticed, there was no way a dragon wouldn’t.

Yeomyeong answered in a calm voice.

“It wasn’t me. Some crazed communist launched it.”

[A... communist.]

The dragon’s eyes narrowed. He had a long and bitter history with communists.

[Then... did the Saint’s efforts fail?]

Orsé Tabul asked carefully. Was it because people hadn’t been saved? No, it seemed more like he was annoyed someone like that had gotten a shot off in the first place.

“No. The missile was stopped. The commie got away, but we saved a lot of lives. I don’t think it was a failure.”

Yeomyeong didn’t elaborate, and the dragon didn’t ask for more.

Instead, he lowered his neck until his massive eyes were level with Yeomyeong.

Reflected in the dragon’s eyes, Yeomyeong stood with one hand resting on the skull of a fallen dragon.

[How ironic.]

“...?”

[I, who once sought to slaughter humans... ended up helping to save them.]

Yeomyeong felt a strange tightness in his chest.

He never imagined that a bond formed in Manchuria would lead here, to this moment.

And it seemed the dragon was thinking the same. He blinked slowly, his gaze scanning Yeomyeong up and down.

That heavy, piercing look made Yeomyeong feel as if the dragon were reading straight into his soul—and in the next moment, Orsé Tabul spoke as if he’d done just that.

[And yet... I sense no pride or joy in you for saving your own kind.]

“...”

[I may not be human, but I’ve known dwarves who gave their lives for the greater good. None of them ever looked as detached as you do now.]

The dragon was right. Yeomyeong didn’t feel particularly proud of having saved the capital.

To be exact, he didn’t attach much meaning to it at all.

He wasn’t going to go around bragging that he’d stopped a nuclear missile—so why would he feel proud?

If anything, saving Seti and defeating Kahal Magdu had been a hundred ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ times more fulfilling...

While that thought lingered in his mind, Orsé Tabul snorted—steam mixed with a trace of flame.

To a dragon, it was the equivalent of a dry cough.

[To think the man beside the Saint is no hero. That is... truly fortunate.]

Fortunate that I’m not a hero? Yeomyeong tilted his head in confusion, and the dragon elaborated.

[Heroes always die for others. Sacrifice is noble, yes—but the pain left behind is immeasurable for those who remain.]

“...”

[I hope you live a long, long life.]

Unlike his old friend. Yeomyeong almost felt like he’d heard the unspoken part.

He had no words to offer in the face of the dragon’s sorrow. A moment of silent respect passed.

The wind brushed between them—cool, quiet, filled with night.

Only after it had faded completely did Yeomyeong finally speak again.

“Orsé, I have a favor to ask.”

[Speak. My ears are open to you.]

“Tomorrow, I plan to leave the city with my companions. Kahal Magdu destroyed the railway, so... would you be willing to fly us to the nearest city?”

Yeomyeong paused after saying that, waiting for the dragon’s response.

But instead of agreeing, Orsé Tabul fell silent.

Had he gone too far with the request? Just as Yeomyeong started to feel unsure, the dragon spoke again—this time, sounding just as awkward.

[Is... is that really all you’re asking for?]

“...Yes. That’s everything.”

[I misjudged you, then. I thought you’d ask something outrageous. Like the Saint.]

...What the hell did the Saint ask for?

Yeomyeong didn’t dare ask. Instead, Orsé Tabul stretched out his neck and spine, standing tall.

[Yeomyeong, for a request like that, I’d grant it a hundred times over.]

“...Thank you.”

[No need to thank me. It’s not worth that much. However... I must ask. What do you plan to do with Kahal Magdu’s bones?]

The dragon gestured toward the massive remains before them.

Even for another dragon, those bones would be impossible to move casually.

“Oh, that? You don’t have to worry.”

Yeomyeong gave a lighthearted answer as he raised his hand.

Don’t have to worry? Orsé Tabul tilted his head—and the moment Yeomyeong’s Inventory confirmed ownership of the bones—

He clenched his fist.

****

Returning to the Court Lord’s castle, Yeomyeong headed straight to his room.

It was the one he’d received after being kicked out of the girls’ room—a replacement, but far more luxurious than the one he’d been shown earlier. A spacious chamber, lined with plush carpets, an opulent bed, and richly embroidered sofas.

According to the servant, it had once belonged to the old Emperor himself. The same room Namgung Jeongbaek had never allowed anyone else to use.

Remembering that explanation, Yeomyeong paused with his hand on the doorknob, grip tightening.

He’d sensed something familiar inside the room. Not one—but two presences.

“What are you waiting for? Come in.”

Already caught, huh? Yeomyeong briefly considered making a run for it, but then sighed and stepped inside.

“You weren’t in the bathroom, so what the hell were you doing all this time?” asked the Saint, lounging across the bed, squashing the fluffy pillows beneath her.

“He probably went to retrieve the dragon bones. Or maybe met with Orsé Tabul,” replied Seti, sprawled lazily on a fancy, embroidered sofa.

Yeomyeong didn’t approach the bed or the sofa. He folded his arms.

“Whatever I was doing—why the hell are you two here?”

“Corvus was snoring way too loud.”

The Saint offered the dumbest excuse imaginable.

A raven snores?

Bullshit like that called for violence. Yeomyeong conjured a shard of ice and chucked it at her forehead. While she yelped and blocked it with a pillow, Seti smirked and spoke up.

“We came to talk about what’s next. Where we go from here.”

“...Could’ve done that in the morning. Go back.”

“Hmm?”

“Please. I’m asking nicely—both of you, get out of this room. If Corvus finds out we’re in here like this, he’s going to stab me in the head with his beak.”

Seti propped her chin on her hand, clearly not planning to move. A go ahead and try to kick us out kind of attitude.

And the Saint? She took it a step further.

“What if I said we came here for a private conversation—something only the three of us can talk about?”

She tilted her head, voice laced with mischief, smiling like a cat.

Yeomyeong rubbed his temple.

“If by ‘private’ conversation you mean prophecy—I swear I’ll actually get mad.”

That hit the mark. The Saint flinched and avoided his gaze.

Resisting the urge to slap her upside the head, Yeomyeong sat on the sofa opposite Seti.

“Alright, enough games, Seti. Take her and—”

“I’m not here to play games.”

“...?”

With that, Seti pulled a rolled-up map from beneath the sofa and spread it across the table.

High-quality parchment, detailed illustrations.

A military-grade map. Not something an average citizen could get their hands on. Likely something she swiped from Namgung Jeongbaek’s office.

“I meant it—we’re here to talk about what’s next. The Saint just... tagged along.”

Seti leaned forward, offering the map to Yeomyeong.

He stared at it, debating whether he should just kick them both out by force.

The debate didn’t last long. Seti had nearly died today.

It felt wrong to throw her out coldly. She was... someone special.

So Yeomyeong surrendered first.

“Alright. Let’s plan. But—”

“But?”

“As soon as we pick a destination, you both go back.”

“Mm. Sure.”

As Yeomyeong leaned in to examine the map, the Saint sat up on the bed, glancing back and forth between the two of them.

She hesitated a moment, then casually perched herself on the armrest of Yeomyeong’s sofa.

“...What are you doing?”

The question meant: There’s an entire sofa. Why are you sitting here?

But the Saint replied without missing a beat.

“Didn’t want Seti to feel like I was leaving her out. Trying to maintain balance, you know.”

“...Oh, how thoughtful.”

Yeomyeong let her lean against his shoulder and continued scanning the map carefully.

Time passed.

Seti’s smile grew deeper. Moonlight began to spill in from the window, pushing out the candlelight.

Eventually, Yeomyeong raised a finger and pointed to the bottom of the map.

“Our original plan, as you know, was to take the train from Drayterial to the nearest Dimensional Gate city.”

As both Seti and the Saint leaned in to look, Yeomyeong traced the winding railway with his finger—through the Fertilizer Route, Tribute Route, across the Legaer River, all the way toward the continent’s center.

He finally stopped at a city labeled Gemini Autonomous Region.

“In terms of the railway, the fastest way would’ve been to the California Gate at Gemini. With the dragon’s help, we could probably fly there in ten days...”

His voice trailed off as his finger shifted westward, landing on a larger city.

“But if we fly straight there, this place is actually closer.”

This time, his finger pointed to a city linked to the Kaesong Dimensional Gate.

The one more widely known by its fake name: Seungman City—rather than its official title, Harrison Special Peace District.

“Let’s tweak the plan. Head for Seungman City. If we cross through the Kaesong Gate there, it’ll be much faster than going all the way to Gemini. Sound good?”

Seti didn’t answer immediately. She seemed to be weighing something.

But the Saint suddenly squeezed his arm and spoke up.

“Hey, Yeomyeong? What about... somewhere else, instead of Gemini or Seungman?”

“Somewhere else?”

“I mean... like, what if we go all the way to Apollo City and use the Chicago Gate?”

She pointed way up north on the map—far above where Yeomyeong had been pointing.

“It’d take over two weeks on dragonback, but once we arrive, we could get help from Daluma.”

Over two weeks on dragonback? That was oddly specific.

Yeomyeong narrowed his eyes and glanced down at the Saint leaning on his shoulder.

“Don’t tell me... you came through the Chicago Gate?”

Not through the closer Kaesong or California Gates?

There was only one thing that could mean.

He asked, his tone dropping.

“...You didn’t cross illegally, did you?”

He and Seti had entered this world through an accident. To cross again, they’d need to prove the incident and go through re-entry clearance.

He had been counting on the Saint to act as a witness for that.

But if she herself had crossed illegally?

“Well... um...”

The Saint looked like a deer in headlights. Her guilty squirm said more than words ever could.

Still, Yeomyeong didn’t scold her.

Crossing a Dimensional Gate illegally was no small gamble. She’d taken a massive political risk to come here—for him and Seti.

“...It’s fine. Really. You saved lives. Recovered a nuke. That’s what matters.”

He reassured her.

The look in her eyes said she wanted something more, but Yeomyeong pretended not to notice.

What, in front of Seti? Get a grip.

Anyway, realizing the plan needed a total overhaul, Yeomyeong spread the map out again and began thinking through alternatives.

Just as he started brainstorming—

Seti, who’d been silent this whole time, leaned in and whispered softly:

“Yeomyeong... since we’re doing this anyway... why not create another fake identity while we’re at it?”