It wasn’t every day a man was asked to make a wish by two ancient dragons.
Correction.
It wasn’t every day that a mortal, overworked, sotis overpaid Ministry aide got asked to make a wish—by the gloriously terrifying, suspiciously kind, and possibly prival parents of his ancient dragon boss.
A wish.
An actual, real-life, no-catch, honor-bound dragon wish.
Sothing so profound that Riley Hale, human of modest strength and questionable decision-making, felt his heart nearly stop.
Could anyone even bla him?
Anyone in his place would likely think of the sa thing.
Uhm...okay, or maybe not?
Because how co Lord Karion and Lady Cirila looked absolutely surprised about my life choices?
See, when they gave Riley such a blessing, his thoughts almost blanked.
Almost.
But he’d hung on to sothing even as his soul threatened to leave the building. Because deep inside, he’s always known, no,scratch that, he’s always dread of being in this exact mont.
The mont when he’d be able to push for his dream.
Honestly, there could’ve been so many things to ask for, such as world peace, immortality, wealth, or sothing as simple as better coffee. But in his heart, one thing reigned.
He blinked. His fingers twitched. His brain refused to reboot as article upon article pricked at his brain.
"...what about paying a life for a life?"
"Co again?" asked Lady Cirila, who seed to have heard his very soft mumbling, but couldn’t really understand what he ant.
But while she genuinely didn’t understand, it was impossible to miss Kael’s pointed gaze. Even without looking at him, he was positive he was glaring daggers at him.
However—like a final nail to sanity—Lord Karion, majestic and thunder-voiced, leaned forward and said, "Don’t be shy. If it is within our abilities, we shall fulfill it."
"My Lord..."
"I... I’m not sure it’s sothing I should be asking for," he stamred. "I an, it’s probably not even my place..."
Lady Cirila, beautiful and radiant and so tragically kind for soone who probably leveled mountains in her youth, waved her hand with a smile.
"Don’t worry about that. Be honest. Whatever it is, we promise not to hold it against you."
And that, dear angels, was the mont Riley Hale, human aide and chronic sufferer of poor timing, decided to abandon all common sense and self-preservation.
He cleared his throat. Sat up straighter. And said:
"My Lord, My Lady, would it be possible to... repay the life debt with this?"
There was a pause.
A long one.
A very long one.
Sowhere in the distance, a teacup trembled.
The silence cracked—first with Lady Cirila’s small gasp of disbelief, then with Lord Karion blinking once, slowly, like the idea personally offended the laws of the universe.
Even Kael, ancient, stoic, and 98 percent of Riley’s stress, looked like soone had slapped him with a wet scroll.
"You—what?" Kael said, actually sounding stunned.
And just like that, Riley realized:
He had possibly made history.
Or a catastrophic mistake.
Too late now.
Too. Late. Now.
Riley realized—belatedly, of course—that he probably should’ve... phrased it better.
You know, maybe eased into the whole "Can I cash in your nephew’s near-death experience to cancel my eternal dragon contract?" sort of deal.
Because judging by the way Lord Karion blinked once, twice, and then didn’t blink at all—and Lady Cirila quietly put down her teacup like it might explode—they weren’t just surprised. No. Their reactions were colorful.
Vibrant.
Apocalyptic.
Maybe he should’ve asked in private. Lit a few candles. Set the mood. Whispered it under his breath like a confession and not an official request to wiggle out of a literal ancient pact.
But no.
He’d blurted it out. In front of everyone.
Because if he didn’t say it now, he’d lose all courage and spend the rest of his miserable life in eternal magical servitude, thinking about the opportunity he didn’t take.
And besides—he wasn’t a pushover, right?
He stood his ground.
He fought rfolk.
He tasered a guy in the thigh. Heck, he’s survived Kael for five long years.
He had earned this.
So when he said, "Could I repay the life debt with this?" what he ant was maybe... maybe they could deduct a few years of service off his life sentence. If full freedom was too much, then a discount? A reduction? A coupon, at least?
He wasn’t trying to devalue a dragon’s life, alright?
It’s just... if saving a dragon child from potential horrific doom didn’t equate to his human ancestor’s whole "lifelong indentured magical contract of blood," then just how lopsided was this deal?
Was his ancestor so kind of weighted hero or sothing? He doubted it.
Sure, Orien didn’t technically die, but co on. It was like one foot in the grave and the other dangling off a ledge!
That had to count for sothing, right?
Right?
So why... why were they staring at him like he hadn’t just grown one extra head, but two, and both were spouting conspiracy theories?
Riley gulped.
This was fine.
Probably.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
Please let this be fine.
Hands slamd against the table.
Riley flinched.
The room shook.
And for a full second, he wondered if the table was made of dragon bone or divine tal—or whatever magical nonsense made it survive Kael’s wrath-fueled palm smash without so much as a scratch.
His spine tingled. He squinted. He braced himself for death.
And instead?
He got sothing worse.
"Riley," Lady Cirila said, voice sharp with worry, "are you alright? Were you cursed? Jinxed? Did sothing get into you during the fight?!"
"H-Huh?" Riley blinked. "? I—I’m fine? I don’t feel sick..."
Was he sick?
Wait.
Should he feel sick?
Was this reverse gaslighting?
But Lady Cirila looked even more concerned. "Then my dear, why would you be willing to let go of such a position?!"
"???"
"Huh???"
Lord Karion leaned forward, gaze deadly serious. "Are you being threatened? Is that it?"
"Wha—No, My Lord!" Riley nearly choked, sitting straighter as if that would help his credibility. "I’m not being threatened. Not unless we count being force-fed deadlines and occasionally scread at by soone who regularly incinerates furniture." The aide had to answer right away, a bit earnestly even, because why would he be threatened to quit? If anything, the only major threat in his life was quite literally his boss, their one and only son.
Kael gave him a look.
Riley coughed. "Which is apparently...totally normal and not the reason."
Lady Cirila gave him a look of pure maternal heartbreak. "Then Riley, why would you want to part with sothing so prestigious?"
Riley stared.
The what now?
Prestigious?
Was she talking about his job?
This job?
This job that ca with a useless health insurance, sporadic trauma, eternal service, fire hazard clauses, and a strict "no quitting unless you die" policy?
Prestigious?
His brain blue-screened.
He could only blink. Slowly. Twice. Before gaping at everyone.
Because clearly, sowhere between slamming the table and expressing concern for his health, this conversation had taken a very wrong turn.
But sohow, he looked like the only one in the room with that opinion.
Were they all nuts?
Or was he the crazy one?
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