The Floating Sickness (1)
Today's royal palace is peaceful as ever.
"Haa..."
But the mood isn't exactly bright. A deep sigh hangs over the garden, where a pink-haired boy leans against the railing with a troubled expression.
Cliche has grown listless ever since the dragon scent vanished from the palace.
[Hey, hey. Master. Looking that pathetic? Why the long face? Face it—you've been the happiest guy alive since you met me.]
Zenkaeno, snug at Roin's waist, tries his version of comfort, but it falls flat.
With the leader of the Pink Dragon Knights sprawled on the sofa like this, the whole group's morale slumps naturally. Hotse and Unicef kill time with mahjong, Diablo holes up in a dingy room drawing magic circles and playing with his Black Flame Dragon, and Alphago just flops around with her battery drained at random intervals.
How is this supposed to be the royal palace's First Knight Order?!
"Um, everyone..."
Queen Roin glances worriedly at the entire Pink Dragon Knights.
"I get that you're all disappointed, but we can't just keep lounging around like this. Don't we need to show some results soon?"
Cliche replies with a gloomy pout.
"But we came here chasing a dragon scent in the first place, and now there's just some weird sword instead of clues. I have zero motivation."
Roin nods deeply in agreement.
Indeed, Cliche made her queen because their goals aligned somewhat. He teamed up with her to track the dragon scent from Rok's royal castle, but the outcome was disappointing. Zenkaeno might be a precious treasure, but it does nothing for Cliche, who yearns for the dragons' world.
Truth be told, Cliche has no reason left to work for Roin.
In this situation, it might even seem shameless for her to demand he fulfill his duties as First Knight Order leader.
But still.
She has to say what needs saying. Roin speaks with a hint of unease.
"It's not like I'm saying this just because I'm queen or anything... But we're already on volume three as a web novel. Sales are tanking. Ratings are low, views are meh, paid purchases are nonexistent..."
"Haaa... Even less motivation now."
"Come on, don't be like that. Let's do something, okay? At this rate, we won't have the face to meet our Naver editor... Besides, who knows where that dragon scent will pop up next?"
As Roin coaxes and consoles Cliche,
"Breaking news!"
A frantic voice echoes from across the corridor. A soldier soon comes sprinting up and stands before Roin.
"Big trouble, Your Majesty!"
Alphago, who had been lounging against the wall soaking up sunlight, snaps her eyes open.
"Beep! Exclamation mark over that soldier's head. Looks like a quest incoming."
Just as Alphago predicted, the soldier pants as he begins his report to Roin.
"I'm a soldier dispatched to the eastern sector! A horrific plague is spreading there right now!"
Roin's face hardens.
A plague? This isn't something to take lightly. The damage from the disease itself is bad enough, but for it to strike so soon after her coronation would tank the dynasty's image.
Roin asks gravely,
"What kind of plague?"
"Well... The contagion pattern is similar to the Black Death that raged in ancient times..."
Roin's expression darkens further at the mention of the Black Death—a monstrous disease that wiped out nearly half the continent's population long ago. It's notoriously hard to treat even now.
If that is spreading, it's a disaster.
"I'll check it out myself."
"I've brought one infected as a sample."
As Roin and the soldier prepare to leave,
"Hold up."
Cliche, slouched in apathy, stirs himself upright. His pink eyes gleam.
Cliche approaches the soldier and sniffs him closely.
"Ah... ahh. If you do that... it's kinda... I didn't shower today, so I smell sweaty."
The soldier blushes and squirms away.
But Cliche ignores him completely and states matter-of-factly,
"This guy's got a dragon scent."
The revival of the Pink Dragon Knights begins.
* * *
"Cough... cough!"
The man who approaches Roin looks quite elderly. His face is hidden under a hood, but everyone in the throne room knows he's from the east—from a small village—and an elder there.
Roin in her hazmat suit, numerous retainers, and even more priests watch him intently.
"Remove your hood."
At Grand General Estial's command, the elder pulls back his hood.
The moment he does,
"Gasp?!"
"No way!"
"How can he be that handsome?!"
"Ah... so cool!"
Gasps erupt everywhere.
The hooded elder is stunningly handsome.
"...From Silverflower Village, famed for its flower-like elders, huh. First time seeing one in person, but damn, he really is gorgeous."
Prime Minister Int whispers in Roin's ear.
Roin steps forward.
"I heard a disease like the Black Death is going around. Is that true?"
The elder nods.
"Yes, Your Majesty. Please save our village. I beg you."
"Don't worry. I'll do everything I can."
Only then does the elder seem somewhat relieved by Roin's firm answer.
Meanwhile, Int pores over data and asks the elder,
"The Black Death causes black spots... What are the symptoms of this disease?"
The elder pulls back his hood further to reveal his neck.
"Gasp?!"
Everyone watching lets out a sharp intake of breath.
His neck is covered in spots—vivid pink spots!
"N-no way. In that case... is it Ping Rash?"
Murmurs of disbelief ripple through the crowd.
"..."
Roin glances sideways at Cliche beside her.
Cliche shakes his head.
"Not me."
It sounds unconvincing somehow, but it's true. Cliche's never even been to the eastern plague zone.
"...Still, that elder definitely reeks of dragon scent."
At Cliche's words, Diablo steps forward.
"Heh heh! I'll give treatment a shot first."
Diablo pulls out the Black Flame Dragon from his left arm and stands before the elder.
"Heh heh! Don't worry. There's no wound I can't heal. Except baldness, that is."
"Why not baldness?"
"Heh heh! Baldness backward is 'mortal.' Means 'fated to die.'"
"Uh, okay... Anyway, please do your best."
The elder sits before Diablo and closes his eyes.
Grrrrr!
The Black Flame Dragon sealed in Diablo's left hand thrashes.
Then Roin sidles up to Diablo and whispers,
"Diablo, there are lots of priests watching, so be a bit more solemn, please."
"Heh heh! Bossy."
Diablo soon begins chanting.
"Heh heh! In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I command thee. What is thy name...?"
"Yes, I'm Austin, elder of Silverflower Village in the east."
"Heh heh! Wasn't asking you. Demon hiding in Austin... What is thy name?"
Suddenly, Unicef pops up beside him.
"Ho ho ho. Demon? Were you calling for me?"
"..."
Diablo irritably taps elder Austin's forehead.
"Heh heh! Annoying. Black Flame Dragon—annihilate this old, ugly thing before you!"
"...Wait, is this really healing? Feels like it's just hurting my feelings..."
As Austin mutters,
Flash—
A sinister black light erupts.
Boom boom boom boom boom!
This ominous black aura sweeps the palace, somehow blessing everyone with health.
Austin's pink rash vanishes completely from his body.
"Oh! Incredible! I'm healed! A miracle! Unbelievable!"
As Austin marvels at his body, cheers erupt around him.
With Diablo around, no plague is a threat.
Meanwhile,
"Damn. The dragon scent's gone."
Only Cliche looks disappointed at Austin.
Curiously, once the Ping Rash heals, so does the dragon scent.
Then,
Tap.
Roin pats Cliche's shoulder.
"Don't worry. The eastern plague zone's gotta reek of it still. Tons of patients infected with Ping Rash there!"
"...Yeah, probably."
The Pink Dragon Knights' new mission is set: plague zone relief efforts. Send Diablo to heal the locals.
And investigate why a dragon-scented disease is spreading.
* * *
The Pink Dragon Knights head to the eastern plague zone with elder Austin.
Unusually, Roin joins to boost morale among the people.
"I really thought I was done for. Thank you for the treatment."
Austin is remarkably polite. Handsome despite his white hair and wrinkles. He says all the elders in his hometown Silverflower Village look like him.
No wonder they call it the land of flower grandpas.
"But what's the problem with Ping Rash? It didn't sound fatal."
Roin asks, and Austin shakes his head awkwardly.
"It causes pink spots on the body and raises body temperature, making you hot."
"Anything else?"
"It impairs reason too. For some reason, it fills elders with intense romantic feelings toward the opposite sex."
Unicef tilts her head this time.
"Ho ho ho. Sounds good to me?"
But Austin shakes his head.
"Not at all. You'll see once you witness the scene yourself."
Austin's words prove true soon enough.
As the Pink Dragon Knights enter Silverflower Village, they witness something shocking.
"Nuh koong-ko-tta gee-shing koong-ko-tta!"
"Deet-teu-ber-ger sah joo-ddae-yo! Deet-deun soon doo jang!"
In the public park, a couple in their seventies clings to each other, lisping sweet nothings.
Austin clicks his tongue and shakes his head.
"Everyone gets like that, age be damned. And it only spreads to elders—pure evil."
Roin wipes cold sweat and nods.
"Yeah... kinda off-putting. But is it that serious?"
Austin frowns deeply.
"All the old guys start new romances and ghost their friends. They used to show up when called, but now they just lisp excuses about dating... Argh! PDA in public? Shameless!"
"Hm, personal issues, then."
"That's not all!"
Austin reveals the real severity.
"Eventually, victims go blind and deaf. Dozens already isolated at home."
That's scary. Roin thinks to herself,
No way this plague exists naturally. Smells like a conspiracy...
But no evidence yet—too soon for a full investigation. Starting tomorrow, she'll dig around properly.
* * *
That night, the entire Pink Dragon Knights stays at elder Austin's house.
The pink plague, Ping Rash—also called the "Floating Sickness" for that buoyant body feeling—will be cured en masse by Diablo tomorrow.
Too late tonight, so sleep and gather patients in the morning for treatment.
Then trace patient zero from the first cases to find the source.
"Busy day tomorrow."
Cliche drifts off, planning to investigate the faint dragon scent on the patients.
Right then.
As Cliche lies in bed, a familiar scent tickles his nose!
"...Home?"
Cliche bolts upright.
The dragon scent intensifies across the village.
At the same time,
Crunch—
A strange sound starts: footsteps.
Tiny enough no normal human could hear.
"...?"
Cliche gets up and peers out the window.
On the roof across the way, someone creeps along.
Perfectly blended into the dark—barely visible even to dragon eyes—but Cliche guesses the position.
"...!"
Suddenly, Cliche's eyes widen.
In the figure's hand: a pink glass bottle.
The dragon scent pours thickly from it.