Playtime in the Dragon Bakery
“You have a good eye. I was so delighted by the picture you gave me before. As I kept looking at it, a wonderful idea came to me, so I made these.”
A thank-you for the scroll I gave him, I suppose.
He had given her a magic scroll, not a picture, but he humbly reminded himself of that once more.
A custard pan bread painted with Heungmi’s face, infused with magic like the dye on a scroll.
Rune blinked once and took a bite from the end.
And then he froze in place.
“?”
A few centimeters from his nose appeared a tiny, simple Heungmi the size of a finger.
Heungmi grabbed the hems of her skirt with both hands and bowed her head in greeting.
Then she held a flower and danced for a few seconds before vanishing.
“Illusion magic?”
“Correct.”
Christina nodded affirmatively as Rune chewed and answered.
She put her head to good use.
And her skill was impressive, too.
To embed it in bread, of all things—a material that doesn’t absorb or hold mana well.
I want to catch up, but she’s on another level.
She had lived at least two thousand years longer than his original thousand-year lifespan, after all.
Rune picked up another pan bread of Dullahan filled with chocolate custard cream.
A cute-sized Dullahan image popped out, rolled its shoulders, crossed its arms imposingly, and vanished.
Impressive quality—fun to watch. To reach this level, I can’t slack on my training either.
As he inwardly admired it, Christina watched him with eyes full of expectation.
Oh, right—I forgot to respond.
“It’s fun. Amazing, too.”
Only then did she beam with a bright smile.
“Heehee. I put quite a bit of effort into them, you know.”
“Yeah. Honestly, I’m impressed.”
And the taste was heavenly, too—a mild sweetness that wasn’t overwhelming.
Light egg and vanilla flavors.
A subtle buttery aroma here and there, whetting the appetite naturally.
Rune took a thin pastry topped with roasted pork loin and crisp vegetables.
For the finish, he added spicy sauce and a tangy, nutty yellow sauce with a unique aroma, then popped it into his mouth. A satisfied breath escaped his nose.
“Mmm.”
His cheeks puffed full as he nodded.
Chewy, crispy smoked skin and juicy meat bursting in his mouth.
The crunchy vegetables and sauces formed a perfect harmony with the umami.
Switching to peanut sauce turned it nutty and sweet.
The endless variety was addictive.
As his mind relaxed, a sense of leisure settled in, and fatigue began to creep up bit by bit.
It’s about time to sleep.
He had expected it, but the hazy lethargy felt unfamiliar.
Still, it was necessary to digest his newfound power—no helping it.
Before sleeping, he mentally listed his tasks.
Jed’s probably made good use of the jar by now. I should tell him I won’t be in touch for a while. And…
“Rune-nim!”
“?”
Heungmi suddenly toddled over to Rune’s side, grinning mischievously.
“Look at this!”
It was obviously bread painted with Rune.
Figuring a simple image of himself would pop out, move for a few seconds, and vanish, he watched.
Heungmi took a big bite, and as expected, a particularly small and casual-looking Rune appeared, fluffing its fur, rubbing its eyes, and yawning.
- Kyuah!
“……”
Seeing his tiny self was awkward enough, but the sleepy yawn made Rune’s expression turn ambiguous.
“Cute, right? I put extra care into the one with you.”
You didn’t have to do this.
His inner voice echoed only to him and faded away.
He knew it, too.
No matter how he reacted, it would only give them more ammunition.
He forced a stern, expressionless face and casually picked up his fork.
“Eh, nothing special.”
He meant to downplay it, saying it was no different from the others.
But oblivious Heungmi shook her head, eyes wide.
“Huh? No way! Look at this one, too.”
There’s another one?!
Now he noticed the bread in her other hand.
For some reason, Christina had made two kinds of Rune bread.
And the second one was even more shocking.
- Kyau! Kyauu!
A tiny Rune frolicking, waving its front paws and rolling around cutely.
It even had high-definition jelly-like details.
No! I’ve never made sounds like that—or acted like that!
He might have played up his cuteness a little before, but this was too much.
That innocent frolic had to be Christina’s mistake.
As he froze, Heungmi’s voice reached him.
“Heehee. Rune-nim had a time like this, huh!”
Perdikion chimed in.
“Yeah, little brother was cute from the first time I saw him. Honestly, he needs to eat more and grow. He’s smaller than the average hatchling.”
“……”
Rune remembered the arrogant glare from their first meeting, yet here he was, denying it and calling him cute.
That liar?
Rune’s eye twitched as he glared at Perdikion.
But the red-haired fire dragon boy just picked at the Rune bread, admiring the frolicking image with a fond smile.
“Yes, I still often recall the wonder I felt seeing this child for the first time. He’s cute and admirable now, but ten years ago, he was so endearing it was lovable. So tiny—I wondered if this is what an angel from the world would look like.”
“Hm, I get that feeling, Christina.”
“Right! Honestly, Rune-nim’s real form is just a tiny bit bigger than me. Lately, he seems to avoid showing it on purpose.”
Unable to suppress his urge to deny it, Rune swallowed his retort with some juice, feeling a twinge inside.
Sharp one.
Since the day Heungmi awoke and hugged him like a large dog, he’d mostly kept his human form around her.
She’s stronger than I thought. Even as a hatchling, what kind of strength is that?
If he’d really tried to push her away, maybe, but as a full-grown adult inside, he couldn’t use force on the childlike Heungmi.
Rather than counter each one, Rune chose silence, clenching his fist around his fork.
“Heehee. Even as a waddling hatchling, his curiosity about cooking was adorable.”
“Little brother’s always been innocently bright. Still is, really.”
“Yeah! Rune-nim always looks so blank like this, but when he’s lost in thought, he gets this dazed expression!”
This won’t do.
He’d been holding it in, but now they were getting excited about his childhood stories.
“What’s so special? Everyone has a childhood.”
Good. Play it cool.
With a slightly curt tone, he casually munched on Perdikion’s bread—a small red dragon hatchling breathing fire.
You’re not the only one with a childhood. Everyone does.
That’s what he meant.
But he overlooked one thing.
No matter how composed he sounded in his tiny form, to others, it just looked like a kid trying to act mature.
“Pfft!”
“Ahem. Well, sure. If little brother says so…”
They looked at him with fond eyes that said, We know, we get it.
At least they didn’t say it outright.
How do I handle this mood?
Rune rolled his eyes.
Instead of stubbornly enduring, he picked a topic to shift the flow.
“By the way, how did you make this picture bread? The voices are especially amazing.”
“I used an artifact I got long ago with a certain Green Dragon.”
“Green Dragon… Lize?”
Christina shook her head at Perdikion’s question.
“Before that child, a previous Green Dragon elder candidate. Now forgotten.”
“Ah.”
Perdikion furrowed his brow uncomfortably and shut his mouth, as if he didn’t want to say more.
Rune was certain from the reaction.
That guy. The war deserter.
An ignoble title, but deserved.
From Christina’s knowledge, that’s how it was.
During the Heavenly Demon War, a young Green Dragon who refused to fight.
No mercy for cowards, past or present.
Rune decided not to mention it either.
It wasn’t a topic for casual dinner talk, so the conversation naturally shifted.
As the dishes were cleared, Rune spoke up.
“I think I’ll enter my sleep period soon.”
“I see. You only slept ten years last time, and now you’ve reclaimed the Dark Clan’s power. It makes sense.”
“Yeah. So, before that, I’d like some time to wrap things up. Can I skip dawn training?”
“Of course. Do as you please.”