This otherworldly inn was unlike anything Zhao’er had stayed in before.

For one, it felt less like an inn and more like a bustling marketplace. Even before entering, Zhao’er had caught a glimpse of a massive notice board outside, plastered with recent request posters.

He couldn’t read the crooked, unfamiliar text, but he knew they were request notices because Morpheus had told him about them before. He vaguely remembered Morpheus explaining that every somewhat prosperous town had an Adventurer’s Guild, and at the time, Zhao’er had thought it sounded really cool!

Just as Zhao’er assumed this was an Adventurer’s Guild exchange hall, the scent of strong alcohol and the aroma of some unknown, delicious food wafted through the air as Morpheus approached the entrance. Hidden in the folds of Morpheus coat, Zhao’er caught snippets of drunken men bragging about their past exploits. The lively coming and going of people, coupled with a dedicated bartender, made the ground-floor hall feel more like a bustling tavern.

But as Zhao’er began to think it was just a tavern, Morpheus skillfully exchanged a few words with the receptionist. It was clear they knew each other, and the receptionist had even pre-arranged a room for him. After a brief conversation, Morpheus smoothly collected a key.

During their exchange, Zhao’er’s heartbeat quickened. He felt like a stowaway, anxiously listening as they asked Morpheus about his last mission. He heard Morpheus casually reply that there hadn’t been any dragons in the Red Cliff Valley.

“I told you so,” someone said.
“There’s no way those things would ever leave the Abyss…”

Although Zhao’er couldn’t see the faces of the speakers, the disdain in their voices was evident.

At that moment, Morpheus subtly patted Zhao’er through the coat as if to reassure him. It was a simple, nonchalant gesture, but it spoke volumes. There were many other ways Morpheus could have handled the situation—safer, more practical methods—but he had chosen the most cumbersome one.

It was hard to say there wasn’t a hint of selfishness behind that choice.

Hearing the creaking sound of wooden boards, Zhao’er could tell from the sensation that Morpheus had ascended to the third floor. As the door clicked open with a crisp thud, Zhao’er couldn’t wait any longer and scrambled out of Morpheus coat.

He darted around the room, utterly fascinated. The decor was unexpectedly vintage—something Zhao’er had only seen in movies before. Yet, compared to those on-screen sets, this felt much more substantial and authentic.

Unfamiliar oil paintings hung on the walls. A quartz clock ticked softly as it swayed. A heavy, standalone desk was equipped with envelopes, along with an ornate wax seal stamp placed neatly to the side.

Underfoot, the plush carpet was so thick it felt like walking on clouds.

Looking around further, Zhao’er noticed a small balcony where the sky, caught between day and night, was clearly visible. The last rays of the setting sun bathed the earth in a gentle glow.

Morpheus watched with quiet amusement as the pink baby dragon rolled all over the soft bed, full of energy. Zhao’er inspected everything he saw with curious intensity, even holding up a candlestick for a closer look.

Noticing a teacup with a gold rim, Zhao’er asked, “Is this made of gold?”
Morpheus shook his head. Seeing Zhao’er’s slightly disappointed expression, he quickly added, “Do you like it? I have some.”

Moments ago, Zhao’er had been listless, but now he perked up instantly, jumping in excitement.

As expected… dragons loved shiny things, and Zhao’er was no exception.

---

The bedspread smelled faintly of sunshine, as if it had been aired out the day before. When Zhao’er nestled against it, he could still feel a lingering warmth.

After rolling back and forth from the headboard to the footboard about ten times, a rhythmic knock came from the door.

Knock, knock, knock…

Zhao’er reacted instantly, instinctively diving under the blankets.

Of course, it was Morpheus who answered the door. Zhao’er only caught muffled snippets of conversation from the hallway. It seemed to be a staff member notifying them about something. They mentioned that starting tomorrow, a festival would take place, during which no meals would be served. There would also be parades outside.

Morpheus appeared well-acquainted with this place, showing no surprise about the festival. After a brief moment of thought, he acknowledged the information and sent the staff member on their way with just a few words.

“Zhao’er, come out now.”

The next second, a small pink head peeked out from under the blanket.

“What did they say?” Zhao’er asked, but his attention quickly shifted to the glass bottles in Morpheus hand.

They looked like beer bottles but were slightly larger, with rounder bodies and no labels of any kind.

Curious by nature, Zhao’er stared at them intently. Morpheus, familiar with this trait, quickly clarified, “Oh… just some sake, nothing special.”

This had been one of Morpheus old habits. He used to numb himself with alcohol, and nearly every Adventurer’s Guild he visited kept a record of his preferences, sending him bottles out of habit.

“What were they saying about not being able to eat?”

Though the conversation had been somewhat muffled, Zhao’er had caught bits and pieces, including words like “fasting” and “festival.”

---

“Hmm… it’s a local tradition,” Morpheus explained as he sat down next to Zhao’er. With practiced ease, he scooped the small dragon onto his lap. Zhao’er stiffened for a moment before relaxing again, but Morpheus acted as if he didn’t notice the hesitation.

“Zhao’er, are you interested?”

This world, with its scattered population and diverse religious beliefs, had massive cultural differences between regions. Beyond the universally recognized Light Church, there were even places that worshipped dark gods. The number of different sects was countless.

In this area, there was a unique local festival not seen elsewhere, called the “Day of Fasting,” also known as the “Day of Abstinence.”

As the name suggested, during this festival, eating or drinking was forbidden. People could only consume food before sunrise or after the day ended. Once the sun rose, nothing, not even a drop of water, was allowed.

The practice was said to be a form of blessing and prayer. While it sounded absurd to outsiders, the locals had strictly adhered to this custom for hundreds of years.

Zhao’er didn’t comment on the festival itself. His mind was occupied with one thought.

“…”

Would he have to go hungry the entire day tomorrow?

For Zhao’er, who had experienced severe hunger in the past—so severe that he had eaten snow, dirt, and grass—this was not good news. The memory of starvation haunted him deeply, and his face crumpled with misery.

The idea of hunger was something he never wanted to endure again.

Morpheus, being a non-native, wasn’t particularly interested in the tradition. He gently rubbed Zhao’er’s horns, which had grown sturdier over time.

“Don’t worry… I won’t let you go hungry.”

The little dragon hesitated for a moment as if an idea had occurred to him. However, he seemed embarrassed to voice it, feeling it might not be a good suggestion.

“Can we sneak off somewhere and eat in secret?”

His voice was soft, almost pleading. The little pink dragon with gemstone-like eyes seemed to know that such a suggestion would only make Morphis relent even more. “We won’t get caught, right…?”

Morpheus couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

That night, Zhao’er ate until he was stuffed. The consequence? Quiet murmurs downstairs speculating about Morpheus unexpectedly large appetite.

---

On the Day of Fasting, Zhao’er had an eventful day.

Initially planning to sneak off to a secluded spot for a quick meal, he unexpectedly stumbled upon a runaway princess.

Yes, the princess from the original story.

This ridiculous storyline never failed to surprise him…

According to the plot, the princess was supposed to be kidnapped by a dragon and kept in a castle. However, due to some kind of “bug,” this version of events had gone awry. The princess had never been captured and had remained in the royal capital all along.

Displeased with the king’s choice of her future husband, she decided to flee from an arranged marriage.

Raised in luxury, the princess was unaccustomed to hardship. Her escape left her disheveled and struggling. Worse still, she was robbed by local bandits in this unfamiliar, foreign land.

Zhao’er, of course, didn’t recognize the princess on sight.

He only identified her thanks to a system notification.

The system had assigned him a minor task to save the princess. While the reward wasn’t particularly generous, Zhao’er figured that even the smallest gain was still something. With that thought in mind, he eagerly prepared to intimidate the bandits.

Zhao’er had recently learned to freely control his size and fireball attacks. Not only could he adjust the speed and intensity of his flames, but when he transformed into a larger form, his claws were strong enough to snap thick tree trunks with ease.

Scaring off a few humans was a trivial matter.

If Zhao’er were more vicious, he could easily tear them apart.

But Morpheus stopped him, insisting that he would handle it instead.

There was no way Zhao’er would let himself be held back. Having finally found an opportunity for real combat, he ignored Morpheus objections and charged forward.

Inwardly, he muttered:

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”

—“Stop trying to steal my kill!!”

Even though Zhao’er had somewhat managed to control his size and volume, the moment he appeared, those cowards were already scared out of their wits.

A tiny pink dragon, palm-sized, would naturally be considered adorable.

But when that same little cutie grows countless times larger, no one would think the same. The once charming pink vertical pupils instantly turned icy cold, and every breath caused ripples in the air—a display of absolute dominance.

His sharp claws didn’t even need much effort.

With just a light press, he could easily crush them into pulp.

Even if Zhao’er did nothing and simply stood there, it was enough to terrify the humans. It was an instinctual fear—a primal terror of lower beings before a higher one.

They panicked, firing off elemental attacks at Zhao’er in all directions. Among them were warriors and mages, their magical arrays dazzling and chaotic. Zhao’er initially remained cautious, carefully raising one claw to test the waters.

He swore he barely exerted any force, just tapping lightly.

And yet—it broke.

“How boring… So weak…”

He had even planned to showcase one of his newly developed attack techniques.

Meanwhile, the princess fainted from fright. With no other choice, Zhao’er had Morpheus take her back, asking him to deal with the bodies as well—some of which he had accidentally stepped on.

“Don’t forget! Make sure to bring the princess too!”

He didn’t forget to remind Morpheus as he left.

---

At the time, Zhao’er didn’t notice what kind of expression Morpheus had.

All he could think about was how cool he had been that day.

In the end, the princess was rescued and placed in another room on the same floor as them.

It was only then that Zhao’er suddenly realized—did this count as him “kidnapping” the princess?

Even though the storyline had gone completely off the rails, it somehow managed to align itself just a bit.

“I’m freaking amazing!!!”

He thought this to himself, his tail swaying lightly with satisfaction.

Zhao’er’s joyful mood certainly didn’t escape Morpheus notice. After settling the princess into her room, he saw Zhao’er circling around him, repeatedly asking how the princess was doing. An inexplicable frustration surged in Morpheus heart.

Zhao’er had no idea about Morpheus feelings—he was genuinely just curious.

After all, as a kid, he had read Andersen’s fairy tales all the time. A princess! Thinking back to his brief glance earlier in the day, she really did look stunning—blonde hair, blue eyes, and doll-like features.

He admired her purely for her beauty,

though he couldn’t figure out why Morpheus expression remained so sour.

—Could it be… menopause?

That evening, Zhao’er slowly inched closer to Morpheus, intending to discuss how they should send the princess back.

After all, it wasn’t proper for a young girl to stay outside like this. She belonged in her castle. There was no way Zhao’er would actually follow the original story and drag her into the abyss, right?

As Zhao’er started speaking, Morpheus lowered his gaze and stayed silent, waiting for him to finish. Only then did he respond with a nonchalant, “Oh…”

To lighten the mood, Zhao’er jokingly brought up a saying he’d heard before: a proper dragon should kidnap at least one princess in their lifetime. That meant he could now consider himself a real dragon!

He waited for Morpheus to either ask why or laugh at the joke.

But Morpheus didn’t react at all. His expression remained unreadable, his gaze shadowed.

“Oh?”

---

For Zhao’er, that day was truly fulfilling.

Not only did he rescue the princess, but he also finally visited the wishing fountain. Under Morpheus cover, he made a devout wish—even though he had no idea who he was praying to.

But who cared? He’d heard it was very effective, and that was enough.

What wish did Zhao’er make? A few years ago, he had watched TV while mimicking the hand gestures of the white-clad cultivators onscreen, imagining himself practicing immortality. He’d shout slogans about saving the world, immersed in the fantasy.

Later, he became deeply enamored with ACG (anime, comics, and games) culture, dreaming about traveling to other worlds. His wild imagination led him to picture himself as a hero destined to save the world.

Not just any ordinary hero—he dreamed of being the one to step in when the world was on the brink of destruction, saving it at the last possible moment. The kind of scenario that would make anyone laugh in their sleep.

Morphis didn’t know what wish Zhao’er made,

but he did make a wish of his own—one that concerned Zhao’er.

No doubt, that day had been incredibly busy for him.

Because the previous day had been so exhausting, Zhao’er decided to take a break. It was the day after the fasting period ended, and the guild members downstairs were rowdier than ever.

The Adventurer’s Guild naturally had many affiliated and registered guilds. Most adventurers chose to join one for the added safety of having companions. Lone wolves like Morpheus were a rare breed.

As evening approached, the noise from downstairs grew louder and more boisterous. Because the next day was a fasting day, the commotion continued late into the night, occasionally accompanied by off-key singing.

Back when Zhao’er lived in Red Cliff Valley, it had never been this noisy.

The mountains were serene, so quiet that he could only hear Morpheus heartbeat.

Morpheus enjoyed that tranquility. In the past, he could spend long periods alone in such peace. But Zhao’er was different—he couldn’t sit still in silence. He loved the liveliness, and if circumstances allowed, he would’ve joined in the fun downstairs without hesitation.

Morpheus was busy writing, the quill in his hand soaked in ink as it moved effortlessly across the paper. At first, Zhao’er watched from the side, observing curiously. After a while, though, he got bored.

Even though Zhao’er was a proper college student-in-training back in his world, here, he suddenly felt illiterate. He could barely recognize a few of the characters, but piecing them together still didn’t make any sense. Finding it dull, he eventually lost interest.

If he had been able to read the text, he would have noticed Brule’s name among the words. Violating the code of a paladin wasn’t something easily dismissed. Morpheus wasn’t particularly altruistic—he was just trying to keep Brule occupied.

Unfortunately, Zhao’er couldn’t read it. Feeling bored, he started looking around the room for something to do.

His gaze eventually landed on a bottle of clear liquor on the table. Morphis had mentioned that it was low in alcohol content, so Zhao’er figured he should be able to drink it, right?

The last time Zhao’er drank alcohol was on his 18th birthday, with his dad. He hadn’t had much but still ended up drunk for an entire day. That was mostly because he had seen his dad drink a shot of strong liquor and, thinking it was no big deal, downed it in one go himself.

The sharp, burning taste was something he still remembered vividly…

The bottle was corked, which made it a bit tricky without hands. After gnawing at it with his sharp teeth for a while, he finally managed to pull it open. A strong, fragrant aroma wafted out—something like green apples, with a hint of sourness.

Tasting just a little bit should be fine, right?

---

When Morpheus finished his work, he suddenly realized it had been unusually quiet—no sign of Zhao’er’s incessant chattering or whiny chirps.

It turned out that in the brief moment Morpheus wasn’t paying attention, the little guy had used his teeth to uncork the bottle and had probably taken a sip…

But that wasn’t just clear liquor—it was a distilled spirit made from fermented and distilled fruit, then aged. While it carried a slight fruity fragrance, it was, in essence, a strong liquor.

Because Zhao’er’s claws weren’t very dexterous, he had spilled some of it on the bedsheets. Meanwhile, his pale pinkish-white scales had started to take on a slightly darker hue.

When Morpheus looked over at him, Zhao’er tilted his head in confusion, seemingly trying hard to discern where he was. The little dragon wobbled in Morpheus direction, clearly drunk, and was about to tumble off the edge of the bed.

Morpheus, quick on his feet, tried to catch him. But just as he reached out, Zhao’er suddenly flapped his tiny wings and took to the air. His voice was slightly slurred, and each chirping “ying-ying-ying” sound ended with an exaggerated, drawn-out note.

He was brimming with pride, his tone practically overflowing with arrogance and self-satisfaction—
“Surprised, huh? I can fly! Hahaha!”

Then he wobbled as he flew, soaring up and down with no stability, looking like he could crash at any moment. Morpheus sighed helplessly, caught the little dragon mid-air, and tried coaxing him for a long time, but to no avail.

—”Wait, wait! I’ll perform something else for you later!”
—”Let go of me! I still want to fly some more…”

Zhao’er seemed to have a deep obsession with the fact that he could fly. He insisted that Morpheus watch him, as if he wanted to show off.

Thankfully, Morpheus had already set up a soundproofing magic array beforehand, or Zhao’er’s noisy antics would have undoubtedly drawn attention. But the soundproofing wasn’t the real headache.

The drunk Zhao’er was not only more hyper than usual but also far chattier. Every sentence was repeated multiple times, often nonsensical things like:

—”Oh no, oh no, am I going to be late for class?”

---

This was, in a sense, Zhao’er’s first real experience with being drunk.

On his 18th birthday, his first time drinking alcohol, he had taken a shot of strong liquor. He drank too much, too quickly. Aside from remembering the burning sensation, he had no other impressions of the experience—he blacked out entirely. By the time he woke up, he was in a hospital bed with no memory of what had happened.

This time, however, was different. This time, Zhao’er didn’t black out. He was fully conscious and aware of everything he was doing, with a sharp sense of self-awareness. His only problem was that his body refused to cooperate.

He entered an oddly surreal state where everything seemed magnified. Memories, even ones he thought he’d long forgotten, resurfaced vividly.

He finally understood why drunk people always insisted they weren’t drunk, claiming they were perfectly clear-headed. Now that he’d experienced it himself, he realized how true that could feel. He had never had such a strong memory in his life—

He could recall every embarrassing moment of his existence with perfect clarity.

He remembered panicking because he thought he was still taking an exam. He tried to grab a pen to write something but found that his little claws couldn’t hold one. He got so anxious, even worrying that if he failed the exam, his parents wouldn’t let him play video games anymore.

He also recalled complaining about being too hot. Morpheus had given him a cold bath in the middle of the night, but as soon as Zhao’er was placed in the bathtub, he started whining about being cold instead.

Then Morpheus held him…

How ridiculous. He also vaguely remembered trying to put his arm around Morpheus shoulder as if they were old pals, completely forgetting that he was in dragon form. His short little claws couldn’t even reach. But oddly, he seemed to remember Morpheus lowering his head a bit, as if to let him try.

He decided not to think about it anymore. Shaking off the memories, Zhao’er realized how deeply he had slept. Judging by the way things felt, it must already be close to the afternoon.

---

Zhao’er initially planned to keep pretending he was asleep, but then he noticed something that shocked him. His previously painfully slow progress bar had suddenly surged forward significantly. Not only that, but his gaze drifted downward to discover that his previously locked humanoid form had somehow been unlocked without his knowledge.

And even more baffling was the appearance of a new mark. If his memory served him right, it symbolized a contract—specifically, a master-servant contract so binding it resembled an almost tyrannical slavery agreement.

Zhao’er had looked into this before when he was bored and had read the system’s explanations. He knew he could form contracts with humans, and for him, such a contract was entirely beneficial.

Once a master-servant contract was formed, he would gain absolute authority over the human in question. The agreement didn’t only encompass physical control but also included their soul.

Zhao’er could decide the life or death of the contracted human and even draw upon their life force at will. Moreover, as long as the human’s soul existed—even through reincarnation—Zhao’er would retain absolute control over them.

It was a ridiculously domineering and unreasonable contract!

Now the system was showing that he had formed a contract. But with whom?

The only person in the room with him yesterday was Morpheus. Who else could it have been? The answer was self-evident, even without opening the detailed entry to check the name.

Damn it! It had to be him who forcibly dragged Morphis into this!

Zhao’er could no longer keep up the act of sleeping. He abruptly opened his eyes, and his gaze landed directly on Morpheus chin. It seemed like he had spent the night sleeping on Morpheus chest again.

“Good morning… Zhao’er,” Morpheus said, with a strangely deliberate pause.

Morpheus, who had been used as a human pillow all night, didn’t look like he’d slept well. For once, his eyes were bloodshot—something Zhao’er had never seen before.

No matter when he had seen Morpheus in the past, he’d always been impeccably composed. As Zhao’er observed him more closely, he also noticed a bandage wrapped around Morpheus wrist, faintly stained with crimson.

Morpheus wasn’t the kind of person to harm himself without reason. There must have been a purpose, and what required blood? How convenient—blood was a crucial component of forming a master-servant contract.

“…”

Zhao’er called out to the system in his mind.

[Can this be undone?]

[No.]

Well, that shot down anything Zhao’er might’ve tried to say in an instant.

---

Zhao’er and Morpheus stared at each other for a long moment. Under Morpheus faintly amused gaze, Zhao’er finally spoke.

“About yesterday… I, um, I might have said some strange things. Don’t, uh, don’t take them seriously.”

“Really? I thought they were quite cute,” Morpheus replied smoothly, showing no intention of letting Zhao’er change the subject. “Yesterday, Zhao’er said he was very happy…”

“D-Did I?”

Zhao’er felt a wave of relief upon seeing that Morpheus didn’t seem angry. In truth, Morpheus wasn’t wrong—Zhao’er had been happy yesterday. And if he was honest with himself, he was still feeling pretty happy right now.

Or, to be more precise, it wasn’t happiness—it was eagerness. For a young man still not fully cured of his adolescent delusions and who firmly believed Ultraman was real, the word contract carried an air of prestige.

And when Zhao’er read that the human forming a contract with him would bear a totem somewhere on their skin, the only thought in his head was:

Wow, it even comes with a tattoo—that’s even cooler…

“So, uh…” Zhao’er hesitated, unsure of how to put it. “How exactly did I force you into signing the contract yesterday? Also, can I see your tattoo?”

When he finished speaking, Zhao’er looked at him expectantly.

---

Zhao’er’s first assumption was wrong. He hadn’t forced Morpheus into signing the contract. In fact, it was the opposite—Morpheus had coaxed the tipsy young dragon into agreeing.

When drunk, Zhao’er was surprisingly honest, answering any question posed to him without hesitation, behaving adorably obedient. But in recent days, a series of unexpected incidents had left Morpheus uneasy.

Whether it was the sudden appearance of Brewer or the unexpected visit from the neighboring princess, they all served as blatant reminders to Morpheus that Zhao’er might leave him at any moment.

Morpheus was acutely aware that dragons had long lifespans, while human lives were tragically short. It was entirely possible that Zhao’er wouldn’t even fully mature before Morpheus time was up. And perhaps, after he was gone, Zhao’er would snuggle into someone else’s arms, napping against someone else’s chest…

The thought was unbearable, and Morpheus couldn’t accept it.

So what could he do? The only solution was to bind them together. He had heard of a lifelong contract humans could form with other races, one that not only extended the human’s lifespan but also marked their soul as belonging solely to their partner.

Yes, if they had such a bond, things would be perfect.

And thus, the cunning human knight seduced the dazed young dragon into forming a soul contract.

Through this bond, Morpheus not only felt a deeper connection to Zhao’er but also gained an unexpected side effect—he could now clearly understand everything Zhao’er said.

For instance, those obedient and polite remarks Zhao’er had made before? It turned out their real meaning was almost the complete opposite of what Morpheus had previously thought.

The adorable little pink dragon wasn’t as well-mannered as Morpheus had believed. Instead, it had all been his own misunderstanding. Listening to the mismatched words coming from Zhao’er’s mouth—so different from his cute appearance—Morpheus didn’t feel any irritation.

In fact, he could have listened all night. “So this is what you really meant,” he thought as he listened, feeling the new totem on his chest faintly heat up and flicker with a subtle glow.

Under Zhao’er’s expectant gaze, Morpheus loosened his collar.

The totem’s location was somewhat embarrassing—it was on the left side of his chest, right over his heart.

The mark itself felt a lot like branding something as private property. In essence, Morpheus was now Zhao’er’s personal possession, and Zhao’er had absolute control over him.

Surprisingly, when Morpheus thought about this, he felt… happy?