Aurora (1)
——Did you know, Vergil? I don’t actually like crimson serenatas.
‘You like moonlilies and silver asters, right?’
——My, how did you know?
‘I can tell. You always make a certain face when you see them.’
That day, when Vergil had dictated things of his own observations, the look of shock on Anneliese’s face was unforgettable.
At the time, he thought he sounded quite profound.
But reflecting on it now, it was painfully obvious how creepy his words must have been.
No wonder she had been so quick to turn on him. To her, he must’ve been disgusting.
If anything, he should have expected it. Anneliese existed only in the prologue of the novel.
She had barely a handful of scenes to draw a personality from.
Vergil had been trying to match a real human girl to a character that was meant to die, and the results were bound to be awkward.
There was only so much he could know, yet he had acted like he understood her completely.
In hindsight, his foolish past self was an embarrassment.
Recalling the memory made him shake his head.
The embarrassment remained for a moment before Seris’s voice pulled him back.
“Are we going out again today, Vergil?”
“Yes. This time, we’re going to the village again.”
“A-Ah?”
Her reaction was immediate and painfully familiar.
For all her pride and for all her origins, Seris froze at the mere suggestion of interacting with others.
For an Ice Dragon who boasted of herself like royalty, she was astonishingly introverted.
The more he observed her, the more he realized she had every dangerous trait of a future hikikomori.
She was utterly ignorant of the outside world, she feared human contact, and she had spent her recent days glued to the gallery notebook.
If Vergil didn’t intervene now, she truly would become a full-fledged NEET Dragon.
At times, it almost felt as though he were raising a wayward younger sister on the fast track to failure.
“It’s just a backwater village. If you can’t handle this much, then forget about reclaiming what was taken from you.”
“Fine. But… why today? Can’t we do this next week?”
The fact that she didn’t even bother mentioning tomorrow, leaping straight to next week, was already a worrying sign.
Her sense of time had begun to stretch the same way a recluse’s did, where any effort felt like something that could always be postponed.
She truly needed correcting.
“Every week, the village hosts a small festival for the community to gather together.”
“Doesn’t that mean it’ll happen next week too?”
“I’ll be going to the capital next week.”
“What?”
“You’ll be coming with me as well.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
Seris’s entire expression twisted into something that resembled “The Scream” painting brought to life.
* * *
It wasn’t a festival in the grand sense of the word, but the villagers treated it like one all the same.
Their community was small, and gatherings like this were less about celebration and more about reaffirming their bonds.
Everyone knew everyone. Families were intertwined through generations, friendships were inherited like heirlooms, and strangers were so rare that their appearance would be considered an omen.
For a place this tightly knit, the idea of crime barely existed.
Disputes were settled before they could escalate, and trust ran so deep that locks were more symbolic than necessary.
Here, the village itself was the family, and every gathering, no matter how minor, was a chance to strengthen that sense of unity.
To call it a festival was generous, but to these people, it was enough.
“By the way, Vergil. I’ve been meaning to ask… why is a human village this far removed from the Human Domain?”
Vergil kept walking through the snow-laden path with his hands in his pockets.
Seris walked beside him, wrapped up in her cloak, waiting for his answer.
“For one, not many people enjoy being managed by a central authority. Some prefer distance from the Empire’s reach.”
“That sounds… inconvenient.”
“To some, freedom is worth the inconvenience. A handful of families decided they wanted to live without taxes, levies, military drafts, and all the extra noise that comes with living under the Empire’s eye. So they traveled as far north as they could manage and settled here.”
Seris glanced around at the vast stretch of white plains surrounding them.
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“It is. There’s little protection. No nearby garrisons. Wildlife is stronger out here. And when trouble comes, it usually hits harder than what people inside the Empire walls ever deal with. But the upside is peace and privacy. Nobody can interfere with their lives unless they invite it.”
“And they chose this?”
Vergil nodded at her question.
“Generations ago. Most of the villagers were born here. To them, the Empire is more of a story than a reality. Their world begins and ends with this land.”
Seris absorbed the explanation quietly.
For someone who had lost her own clan, the idea of a small, tight-knit community choosing isolation felt strangely bittersweet.
“It must be nice. To live so far from conflict.”
“Then doesn’t it inspire you to interact with people a little? The children might be brats, but they’re harmless.”
“...Yes. I think I’ll go ahead and try.”
“Good. Start small. A greeting, perhaps a little conversation, and if they throw snow at you—”
“They wouldn’t dare.”
“Seris.”
Seris cleared her throat and nodded.
“Right. I mean… I’ll try to respond gently.”
They walked a little farther until the village came fully into view.
Lights glowed from the makeshift stalls. Smoke rose from the fire pits, and laughter echoed around.
Seris slowed her steps as they reached the edge of the festival grounds.
Children ran past them with wooden toys and bundled scarves.
A few glanced at Seris with wide, curious eyes before running off again.
Vergil nudged her.
“Go on.”
“...What do I say?”
“Something simple. Humans aren’t that complicated. Try something like ‘hello’ or ‘good evening.’”
Seris swallowed deeply and took a cautious step forward.
A pair of children dragging a wooden sled stopped and stared up at her.
“Wow~ Miss, your hair’s so shiny. It’s like real snow!”
Seris froze and looked at Vergil, who gave her a subtle nod.
“G-Good… evening.”
“Good evening!”
Then they ran off again, shouting about sled races.
“I… did it.”
“And you didn’t turn anyone into ice.”
Seris puffed her cheeks.
“I wasn’t going to!”
“Progress is progress. Come on. There’s more to see.”
As they ventured deeper into the festival grounds, the villagers paused from their work to greet Vergil one after another.
“Good afternoon, Vergil!”
“Afternoon.”
“Back again, lad?”
“Just checking in.”
“Brought company today, I see.”
“Yes, she’s with me today.”
Vergil answered each greeting like someone completely accustomed to the attention.
Seris walked half a step behind him, taking everything in.
The casual familiarity they had with Vergil felt strangely foreign.
She wasn’t used to being spoken to without reverence or fear. So, the lack of ceremony felt quite unsettling.
A woman carrying a bundle of cloth slowed when she noticed Seris.
“Oh my. Is this your friend, Vergil?”
“Yes. She’s… new to the area.”
The woman offered Seris a bright, genuine smile.
“Welcome, dear. The festival’s a bit noisy today, but you’ll get used to it.”
“Ah—”
Seris opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Vergil nudged her gently.
“Th… thank you.”
The woman beamed, pleased, and went on her way.
When she was out of sight, Seris let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.
“Why did she speak to me like that?”
“How should she speak to you?”
“I… don’t know. Differently?”
“This is a village. They treat everyone the same.”
Seris processed this in silence, her attention fully on the passing faces.
“That is… strange. But not unpleasant.”
“Good. Then keep going.”
“You make it sound like I’m a hatchling learning how to fly.”
“Considering your performance so far, that isn’t entirely inaccurate.”
Seris glared at him, then hurried ahead so he wouldn’t see the way her cheeks pouted, while Vergil followed with his hands in his pockets.
“Try talking to someone again.”
“Don’t rush me.”
“I’m not rushing you. I’m encouraging you.”
Seris clicked her tongue but didn’t hide behind him this time as she continued walking forward, the noise of the gathering crowd growing louder.
* * *
Seris had sampled far more food than she expected.
At first, she approached everything with suspicion. She sniffed every pastry, poked every roasted skewer, and outright refused anything that looked too unfamiliar.
Yet as the villagers continued treating her warmly, her guard loosened little by little.
She found herself accepting more dishes, surprised at how varied human cooking could be, and that there was more to human cuisine than potato soup and roasted fish.
The villagers involved her in their games as well.
Children dragged her from one simple contest to another. They tossed rings, chased ribbons in the snow, and even attempted to climb a greased wooden pole.
She lost interest quickly whenever she failed, and her temper surged more than once, but all Vergil had to do was mouth the word “notebook,” and Seris instantly reined herself in.
The threat of murdering that damned gallery notebook was enough to tame the Ice Dragon’s mood.
As the day waned and lanterns were lit, Seris ended up sitting with a group of children around a campfire.
They listened eagerly whenever she spoke, though she rarely said more than a few words at a time.
“Can I try your big hat on, Miss?”
“Unfortunately, it's stuck to my head.”
Even so, just being surrounded by their laughter seemed to soften her more than she realized.
Vergil watched all this from a short distance away, standing with the village chief and several village knights with a mug of locally brewed ale in his hand.
“A fine woman you’ve brought with you, Sir Vergil. But where did she come from, exactly?”
“She’s not my woman. And… you could say she’s an acquaintance from before my exile.”
“Ah, is that so? Then why has she come all the way out here? Did she, too, fall victim to the Empire’s corruption?”
“Something like that.”
“She seems gentle enough. A bit stiff, but the children took a liking to her quickly.”
Vergil lifted his mug and took a slow drink, hoping it would keep anyone from pressing further.
The less the villagers speculated about Seris, the safer she would be.
The chief clapped his shoulder.
“In any case, it’s good to see you smiling more, Sir Vergil. Life in exile suits you better than court politics ever did.”
“Is that so?”
Vergil touched his cheek with the back of his fingers, startled by the idea.
These past two years in exile, he felt his heart growing numb with every passing second.
He wasn’t even sure he remembered what smiling felt like.
“Why did you get exiled, Vergil?”
Before any of them noticed her approach, Seris was suddenly standing there beside him, posing the question.
Vergil turned to her, meeting her gaze for a long moment. She had slipped away from the children without a sound.
Typical dragon.
“It’s a long story.”
The knights exchanged brief glances, and the village chief gave a solemn nod before herding them a few steps away, leaving Vergil and Seris alone by the edge of the firelight.
Seris looked up at him. Her expression was earnest in a way she rarely allowed others to see.
“I still want to hear it. For someone this village clearly looks up to, exile doesn’t suit you very well.”
Vergil raised a brow at her words.
“Looks up to?”
“I heard from Mary. That little girl. She said you saved this village during a crisis two years ago. You led a battalion, didn’t you? The villagers regard you as their hero.”
“I actually am a war hero. Or rather, was.”
“Yes, yes. Enough boasting.”
Seris waved a hand, dismissing him without even looking his way.
She leaned back against the wall beside him, looking up toward the aurora lights in the northern sky.
“What did the Human Empire do to you?”
