The Dragon Lord's Aide Wants to Quit [BL] Chapter 36: Attempt at Reformation

Was he supposed to say no to that?

Ideally, no. But just how many burgers would that be?

Also, would the great dragon lord even allow this guy to subsist on that? Or did dragons not have dietary needs?

Who knew? It’s not like Kael would ever bother to tell him anything. And this kid right here wasn’t going to give a straight answer either.

"My lord," Riley said carefully, "I’d have to see what I can do. Who knows if we’ll be allowed to do this again?"

Orien narrowed his eyes, visibly offended, like Riley had just cursed his ancestors.

"Hey, it’s not that I don’t want to give you more," Riley pointed toward the door, "but you know the toll man isn’t exactly easy to deal with."

At that, Orien wilted. Just slightly. Enough for Riley to raise a brow at how pitifully adorable the little chick looked sotis.

Fine. Maybe he’d figure out a way to convince Kael. At least this ant the kid was eating sothing. That had to count for sothing.

Although, he really ought to figure out if dragons had nutritional requirents. Because it wasn’t like his historical references helped—those records always ntioned dragons snacking on, well, humans.

So yeah. If that used to be a major food group, sorry. It was going to be replaced with burgers, thank you very much. Riley shivered as he made this internal declaration.

When he refocused, he noticed the youngling’s expression had turned unusually serious.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, unsure who—or what—had offended the boy this ti.

"Is that it?"

"Huh?"

"I asked," Orien repeated, puffing his cheeks and rolling his eyes, "if that was everything that’s acceptable out here?"

This little shit.

He was so much like his uncle that Riley was starting to wonder if this actually was Kael’s kid. Then again, by that logic, anyone with a superiority complex and a dragon lineage might qualify.

"Well," Riley said, taking a thoughtful tone, "I had been thinking of showing you a few things. But considering the burger was just barely acceptable, maybe I should hold off until I can think of alternatives more suitable to your delicate tastes."

He smirked slightly, enjoying the way Orien’s jaw tensed.

Not that he planned to stop, of course. But if he gave in too fast, the little brat would absolutely take him for granted again.

And hey, if this worked, maybe Riley would actually leave behind a decent legacy. A concrete achievent to tuck under his wing when he died a dramatic, overworked death.

When the universe judged him, he could raise his hand and say, "I tried my best to adjust the personality of one ideally immortal dragonling. That’s gotta count for sothing, right?"

Maybe like this, they wouldn’t have a second coming of the guy on the top floor.

Orien’s expression had darkened significantly. He looked like soone just told him naps were illegal. Or worse—snack ti was canceled.

But then, surprisingly, curiosity triumphed. His voice ca out sharper than necessary.

"Obviously! Because h-how am I supposed to know if that was good enough when I have nothing to compare it with!"

He coughed into his hand, as if trying to casually cover the stutter. Riley blinked.

Wait. Could dragons get colds?

File that under things to research when not fearing for your life.

Still, it was a decent point. Surprisingly logical for soone whose mood changed like a weather app with no signal.

"I don’t really have any more food with ," Riley admitted, watching as the boy’s brows furrowed in a way that could only an dissatisfaction.

"But I do have a few things to help pass the ti."

Orien didn’t reply. As expected. He was back to his patented silent treatnt. Riley had co to understand that Orien only spoke when it was least needed and reverted to mystic monk silence the mont actual feedback was required.

Luckily, Riley had beco fluent in dragon eyebrow.

He could make the brat ask for it. Teach him patience. Humility. The value of polite communication.

But that would be too cruel. And possibly a little too hopeful.

So, like any adult who knew they were about to lose an argunt with a child, Riley relented.

"I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested, but I brought this." He pulled out a sleek handheld gaming console.

Orien blinked at it, unimpressed. For now.

Riley sighed. "Look, I was going to bring board gas too, but those were all left back at my parents’ place, and I haven’t exactly had ti to go collect them."

After moving out, he hadn’t really found people he could drag into a board ga night anyway. Not that he had the ti to really talk to people for the sake of talking to them. Between overti and existential dread, cardboard fun wasn’t exactly a priority.

Still, once upon a ti, he’d been hopeful. He’d bought this console. Anticipated release dates. Pre-ordered the gas. Made detailed plans.

Then reality hit.

The first ti he tried playing, he cramd all his work into one day, set up the console, sat down to boot the ga—and passed out before the loading screen even appeared. Woke up six hours later with controller drool.

And that, folks, was his grand return to gaming.

So yes. Watching this dragon kid now, Riley felt a little bitter.

Not about the assassination attempts, obviously. But hey, he already had those. However, unlike this kid, he had to be out there facing reality while this dragon got to have a bit of ti out to play.

A proper, forced ti-out.

In a pocket dinsion.

With no paperwork.

Kind of unfair if you asked him.

Still, at least one of them could have fun.

Orien looked at the device as if it could burn him. And the aide felt glad he had given him a fresh console. With that expression, he’d be hard-pressed to let him borrow sothing with his saved data.

But contrary to the idea that Orien would reject the suddenly glowing screen, the boy actually pointed with his eyes.

Fine.

Riley handed over the console, explaining the basics. How to move, interact, and—of course—the main goal.

Farming.

Peaceful, stress-free farming.

At least... that’s what he thought.

Because who knew that farming gas could be so violent?!