A Mother's Side
Having done its share, the bird skillfully pried open a bag of bread scraps with its beak, eyes gleaming.
“Pi!”
Baekya clutched the bread-mochi bag to its chest like a treasure trove, wings fluttering proudly.
“Pii.”
With a satisfied stretch, it found a spot in the corner of the basket and pawed the ground as if to settle down for a nap it hadn’t quite finished.
After a few wriggles, Baekya’s breaths evened out and the little one fell silent.
The Imugi tilted its head and held out a baby bottle to Perdikion.
“Want to try?”
Perdikion nodded obediently. The Imugi popped the lid and passed the bottle over.
He accepted it without any expression at all.
His mind’s completely blank. In times like this I’d be cracking open some top-shelf Maehwa Soju, but this is all I’ve got.
Among the items that sometimes arrived from the sacrifice island, a few listings for superior spirits crossed his mind, but the only thing warm in his hand was this milk.
Pong!
Perdikion drank it down. The Imugi cracked its own bottle and gulped it too.
The pleasant surge of mana flooding his veins after the first sip made his whole body tingle.
Perdikion’s face stayed blank, unchanged from the outside, yet the old wariness that always clung to him had vanished.
This is the perfect moment to spill everything.
The boy who had never once let himself feel his mother’s absence was now being handed a chance to speak his heart.
Anyone carrying a grudge will eventually seek someone to lift it from their shoulders.
Even though I had ignored, forgotten, and buried it, the knot inside him was finally ready to untie.
After a moment of thought, he chose gentle words that would not disturb the mood.
“Did you come here with your parents… when you were my age?”
“Yeah. Probably my first time out of the nest.”
First time out.
The Imugi pictured a tiny Perdikion, small enough to fit in a palm, being guided here by unknown dragon hands.
“Dad didn’t like it at all, but my mom Kuzna loved singing back then. I used to hum along sometimes. After she passed… I couldn’t sing anymore because it made me think of her too much.”
It was clear the reason Perdikion had stopped singing was tied to his mother’s death.
The Imugi clicked its tongue in its mind.
He was pushed around by his father, and he probably never wanted to remember on his own.
A young hatchling shouldn’t have to face something as painful as losing both parents.
The entire clan even treated the memory of the dead as forbidden.
Perdikion, still so young, had barely been able to do anything.
That was a shame. His talent had been quietly silenced for far too long.
I’m glad you learned about it now.
If Kuzna had still been alive, she would have understood.
“Hey, big brother. Let’s sing together from now on.”
“Why? Why waste time singing and remembering when it’s easier to just forget and move on?”
Perdikion’s eyes narrowed, skeptical.
The Imugi hesitated, then answered softly.
“That song proves Kuzna loved you. You should cherish it.”
“Love, huh?”
Perdikion muttered the word as if tasting it.
The darkness lifted. Warm sunlight flooded the basin.
It was a perfect morning.
The softest gold poured in, turning Christina’s Lair the color of fresh wheat.
Light spilled outward, painting every blade of grass in the basin a shimmering gold.
Perfect. This is exactly the flow I needed.
After carefully weighing his words, the Imugi offered a small smile.
“Big brother, you know? Before I was even born there was a huge war. Everyone was worn out, hearts scarred by anger and sorrow.”
That was the most empathy a naive young child could muster.
Perdikion, touched, unconsciously leaned closer to the far younger Imugi’s voice.
“People who swallowed their frustration and kept going… maybe they found strength because one day they knew a sad moment would pass.”
“Whether it’s hope or happiness, I’m not sure, but that’s what they called it.”
The little one spoke so gently, without a trace of blame or judgment, simply sharing the face of the world that grieved.
Perdikion could not understand why he felt no urge to argue.
He was only beginning to realize that something impossible to grasp with the mind could sometimes sink into the heart.
“So, if your mother’s time was happy, cherish it and live. Even if we’re incredibly strong, life won’t be easy. Sometimes we have to learn how to face things our power can’t solve.”
To a proud dragon, that was an impossible thing to hear.
There was no hardship in their world.
Or rather, there must not be.
Especially not for Father Pasiyas.
When Perdikion showed even a hint of weakness as an elder, the old dragon would bellow, “A dragon who doesn’t act like a dragon!”
…Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not lacking. I’m the successor the clan expects from its leader, the son of the mother Kuzna who gave birth to a magnificent dragon!
Yet Perdikion could not bring himself to shut down the words of this tiny black hatchling standing right in front of him.
The grief he had swallowed for so long rose up, choking him.
Thud.
Soft fabric brushed his cheek.
“?”
“Are you crying, brother?”
Only then did he realize he hadn’t blinked once.
The heart he had tried to keep buried broke open in a flood.
“Huu… snif.”
Perdikion clamped his lower lip between his teeth to hold it in, then suddenly hiccuped and sobbed like a child.
“…You’ve been carrying it all this time.”
Perdikion’s cries grew louder.
Even now, while still a hatchling, he finally let out the grief he had hidden inside since he was much younger.
“Cry it all out. You’ve been through a lot, big brother.”
Perdikion wept until the picnic napkin was soaked through.
***
Sigh. That knot must have been a big one.
Seeing the once-proud little one now looking helplessly pitiful, the Imugi glanced away.
I’ll have to wash the blanket later.
Whether that hot-tempered dragon hatchling wanted to die of embarrassment or not, the Imugi had already reached its goal.
Just as the sobs began to fade, the Imugi pulled another warm bottle from the picnic basket.
“D-don’t… want… it…”
Embarrassed by his own tear-stained face, the boy couldn’t even lift his head.
The Imugi nodded cheerfully and tucked the bottle back into the basket.
I even cleaned the handkerchief twice.
Thank the stars the cloth was big enough; otherwise it might have ruined everything.
The Imugi watched Perdikion catch his breath, then asked softly,
“Feeling better?”
“Y-yeah… yeah.”
His red-rimmed eyes gave the Imugi a twinge of pity, but Perdikion spoke first.
“I feel… lighter.”
“That’s good to hear.”
The Imugi grinned. Perdikion let out a helpless chuckle.
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before.”
Perdikion sounded strangely at peace.
The weight is finally off my shoulders.
The Imugi shrugged and pulled out a fresh loaf of night bread.
It raised an eyebrow at the boy, offering it silently.
Perdikion understood at once and nodded.
The Imugi placed the loaf in his hands, then took a big bite of its own.
Mmm. As expected.
Christina’s baking was truly excellent.
Perdikion stared at the plump cheeks until his eyes stung. He wiped them with his sleeve, then took the bread and started eating.
“Is this where we’re having class today? Did Christina choose the spot?”
Sharp little guy.
A calm question with real bite.
One wrong word and that pride might actually get hurt.
The Imugi weighed it for a second, then decided on honesty.
“Yeah. Even though I never told her everything, I guessed a lot about you.”
Christina couldn’t possibly have predicted the exact outcome.
But the result she wanted was exactly what had happened, and the Imugi had simply added a tiny extra layer.
As a guardian, Christina had chosen the perfect place for the boy’s healing — the very thing that suited his transformation best.
Shared purpose.
“I see. Got it.”
Perdikion nodded without a second thought.
Then he took a deep breath, pointed toward the basin, and spoke.
“Look at this basin.”
The Imugi turned its gaze.
Only a few faint golden specks remained, but the gentle, powerful light that had once flooded the center had almost vanished.
The forest glowed with its original colors, now even greener and more alive.
Perdikion gazed at the landscape for a long moment before continuing.
“Do you know what this Lair is made of, Christina-nim?”
“No.”
Perdikion folded his arms and looked straight at the Imugi.
“It was built from the scales of the Gold Dragon clan that has lived here since the beginning of time.”
“Gold Dragon scales?”
The Imugi’s eyes widened in surprise.
Perdikion took a swig of milk.
“The first Gold Dragon left his scales here and said they should be passed down through every generation until the last one. They kept peeling off one scale before they died and laid it in the Lair.”
Perdikion’s voice stayed calm.
“Because of the way the Gold Dragon clan works, they could turn light into power and release it. That’s why the light here is so strong.”
The Imugi had always felt overflowing mana since birth, but it finally understood why.
One question answered.
Alone and enlightened, the Imugi nodded.