Intermingled with the Dragon #1
Conquering Semiramis in the game had been an absolute ordeal.
It was a turn-based title where you traded specific actions back and forth, so timing mattered—but luck played an enormous part as well. The stress of those attempts still lived vividly in his memory. Even so, he could say without hesitation that it had never been harder than this.
Adonis let the holy sword hang limp at his side and dragged in ragged breaths. His mouth kept pouring out the sweet reek of exhaustion and short, hard gasps; every inch of him was soaked in sweat. There was no blood, no open wound—yet he looked no different from a broken remnant of an army that had lost and been hunted without end.
And the more worn down he became, the sharper his technique grew. Where he had once been dragged around by pure instinct, he now took the lead himself—swinging the blade, dodging, and answering with counterattacks.
Semiramis, standing before the spent Adonis, knew that better than anyone.
"So this is what comes of a Hero's body. You grow sharper by the day. I wonder whether the blessing caused it… or whether the blessing was given because the talent was already there. Whether it resides in the soul, or in the flesh…"
Adonis watched her tip her head in that thoughtful, puzzled way and simply regulated his breathing. Over the past few months, whenever something caught her interest she sank into a focus of an entirely different order—so he had long since learned to let it pass.
What did surprise him was the next thing she said: that there was something she simply had to ask, and that he should go wash up first and come back.
She had asked him all sorts of things these past months. But something she simply had to ask…
Still frowning faintly in confusion, Adonis walked toward the door set into one corner of the cavern. Even at a glance it was clear the wood was expensive, polished to a deep, rich brown. It looked wildly out of place standing alone in the empty cave—yet what waited beyond it more than matched the door's quality.
A bath fit for any aristocrat or royal who liked to throw their weight around. A fountain-style tub that poured hot water. A bed warded with waterproof magic for resting between soaks. Shelves lined with every tool and amenity one could need for bathing. Everything was there.
Adonis scooped water with the ladle resting on the rim, rinsed the sweat from his hair, then sank into the tub where pale steam lay thick as snow. The moment the heat wrapped around him, the old fatigue seemed to wash straight off. Without meaning to, he let out a low, involuntary groan of pleasure.
Months of drilling himself not only in a Hero's power but in instinct itself. Far from being a waste, the days had been packed with nothing but results—and a quiet confidence had settled into one corner of Adonis's face. Not the arrogance of believing he was the best in the world. Simply the certainty that no matter where he was thrown, he would not die.
"Mmm…"
He hauled his languid body out and moved to the corner of the bath. On the shelf, beside the bathing implements, lay a stack of pure white towels. Fine cotton. The feel against his skin was exquisite—like drying himself with clouds.
He wiped himself clean, changed into fresh clothes, and pulled the handle of the door beside the shelf.
Beyond it sat a chamber luxurious enough to make any imperial scion envious. Semiramis was already there, legs crossed at the table.
"Mm. All clean, I see. Come. Sit."
Chin propped on one hand, she tapped the far corner of the table with a finger. Adonis approached with a faintly drained expression and took the seat opposite her—exactly where she wanted him.
In the beginning he had tensed up, half-expecting some new disaster. By now he knew better. That was why his face could look this relaxed, almost limp with ease.
"Yes. What are you curious about today?"
As part of the price he owed her, Semiramis had demanded that he tell her stories. She could have skipped the word "price" entirely and still gotten what she wanted. A light push on the shoulder of a man standing at a cliff's edge would have been enough. Because of that framing, Adonis had often been forced to wring his brains dry—yet it had never been entirely unpleasant.
But looking at the shadow on her face now, he had the distinct feeling that today's topic would be heavy.
"Today's question may prove… thoroughly unpleasant for you. So I grant you the right to refuse."
Outwardly his expression stayed flat, but inside Adonis was stunned. For Semiramis of all people to show even a hint of stepping back—how could he not be?
What should he do?
After a silence that felt both short and long, he gathered his weight and nodded. If a few months had taught Semiramis the courtesy of yielding a step, they had planted in Adonis the boldness to take one forward. And after everything—the training, the bath, the bed—he had been treated almost oppressively well. Refusing to answer was simply impossible.
"Very well. Since you say you will answer, I shall ask. You… or more precisely, the Hero. Why do you believe he was betrayed?"
"Not me… you mean why Adonis was betrayed?"
He nodded, the weight of the subject finally registering, the look of someone who had just understood.
"Answering is easy enough. But may I ask why you're interested?"
"Because I need it for the price I mean to claim."
He had expected some deeper reason. She brushed it off with the same word—price—and left it at that. Adonis tilted his head, a crafty glint flickering across his face, then straightened his posture and spoke.
"It makes my blood boil to say it with my own mouth, but… I suppose his innate appeal as a male simply fell short."
"Innate appeal as a male…? A Hero who crossed the continent cutting down countless demons—and you claim that appeal was lacking?"
"In terms of raw power, no. But…"
The thought of having to put something rather shameful into words made Adonis flush and clamp his mouth shut. Semiramis, watching him trail off mid-sentence, felt a flash of frustration—yet outwardly she remained calm. One look was enough to see that the boyish young man across from her was embarrassed.
Fine. Just spit it all out.
Adonis forced the heat from his cheeks and opened his mouth slowly.
"It truly rankles to admit it, but the biggest factor seemed to be how he looked—like his capacity for breeding was inferior. Adonis was a Hero of great strength, yet he still looked like a slender-lined boy. Castro, the one who stole the women through copulation, overflowed with sexual appeal as a male."
"Sexual appeal, you say?"
"You may not fully understand, being a dragon, Semiramis… but a body moderately large and packed tight with lean, solid muscle. And a massive manhood that seemed to symbolize superior reproductive power. That is the appeal I mean."
Adonis remembered the forced masturbation event—watching Castro roll around on the bed with the women in his arms. NTR games loved to contrast the genitals of the man who takes and the man who is taken, and this game had jammed that element in hard.
Adonis's cock had not been comically tiny, yet set against Castro's thick, enormous shaft it looked pitifully inadequate. Adonis wilted after a single climax; Castro stayed rigid no matter how many times he spent. Even the size of the seed-sacs that held the makings of children had differed. Adonis let out a long breath, reminded once again that a gap in power did not automatically mean a gap in virility.
"…Even if I asked only to satisfy my curiosity, I am sorry."
Semiramis looked at the shoulders that had slumped in misery and offered the apology. The fact that Adonis called her by name, the fact that Semiramis apologized so readily—both proved that a few months had been more than enough to change the relationship between the Evil Dragon and the Hero.
"It's fine."
"Mmm… I am glad to hear you say so, and yet I truly regret asking something so needless. You need answer no further. Go rest for today."
The outer corners of her eyes drooped; she seemed genuinely reluctant to press him any more. Their reproductive processes were utterly different, so she could never fully empathize—but she could see clearly enough that Adonis was stung by inferiority.
And yet—
When Semiramis looked a little downcast, the opposite happened: Adonis, who had been wilting, put steel back into his voice.
"It really is fine. And once a conversation like this has started, cutting it off feels awkward. Bringing it up again later would be even worse. So please don't feel sorry."
"Are you… truly certain?"
"Yes."
At his firm answer, Semiramis—who had half-risen in an awkward crouch—settled back into her chair. Adonis watched her arrange herself as if ready to listen, then finished emptying out the rest of his thoughts.
His nature had been too gentle, too upright. He had thought of nothing but toppling the Demon King, and so he had never truly looked at his companions as women. To be precise, he had harbored affection for party members in certain cases—yet he had never been bold enough to step forward the way Castro had. That, Adonis said, was the second reason he was betrayed. If the original Adonis had filled himself with venom before dying and cut Castro's throat, nothing would ever have been stolen from him.
"Ability as a male for the sake of reproduction…"
Semiramis folded her arms and leaned back against the chair. She murmured to herself for a while, as though sorting the long story into order. Adonis watched in silence and waited for whatever conclusion she would reach—whether that conclusion was further talk, or an order to rest here and now.
Then, as if she had decided, her gaze left the ceiling and settled on him.
"Come to think of it, you have already spent several months in this lair. The day after tomorrow will make half a year, will it not?"
What was this, out of nowhere?
The sudden change of subject left Adonis inwardly confused, but he nodded at once. He was also curious what she meant to say next.
"Has it already been that long? Time really does fly."
"Indeed. Humans feel the passage of time with particular keenness. From my eyes, you die between one blink and the next—so short-lived that it is only natural."
"Dragons do live a long time."
A dragon's lifespan was said to be the longest of any creature that breathed upon the continent. They appeared so rarely that they were half-regarded as beings of legend, yet their bloodline quietly endured even now. Like Semiramis, who had made her nest in this place.
"Which is why I ask. Have you ever wished to live a long life?"
"A long life? I used to think I wanted one, once. These days, though, I care less about living long and more about simply dying without pain. A person can live as long as they like and still grow old—and once you're old, you get sick and everything hurts."
"And if… if you could live long without aging, remaining young and free of illness?"
Young forever.
Adonis thought of the immortality he had only ever heard about in stories, and folded his arms. If it truly worked that way, then living a long time might not be so bad after all.
"If that were possible, I think living long would be fine. But why are you asking…?"
The moment his answer fell, Semiramis's eyes lit up. "Lit up" was too mild—they flashed.
Should she give him the answer or not?
She wrestled with the choice for a moment, then rose without a word and left the room.