The first ray of morning sunlight fell on Xuanxi’s eyelids.
Feeling the warmth of the sun, she frowned, turned over, and her hand unconsciously landed on something warm and soft that didn’t feel like a pillow.
Her fingers instinctively squeezed—not a pillow, but what felt like a human arm. Her eyes snapped open.
Silver-white hair was scattered across the white pillow. Xige’s eyes were slightly closed, her lashes casting a small fan-shaped shadow under her eyelids, her lips lightly pressed together, her breathing steady and long.
Hildegrifa was sleeping right beside her—the same bed, the same pillow, even the same blanket.
The distance between them was close enough for her to count the number of lashes, close enough for her to smell the pleasant fragrance on Xige’s body.
Xuanxi’s face started to burn from the base of her neck. She stared at Hildegrifa’s lashes for a second, carefully pulled her arm back, and shifted an inch away.
Hildegrifa didn’t wake, so she shifted another inch. When she moved again, her elbow hit the headboard with a dull thud.
Hiss— She sucked in a sharp breath, tears almost falling.
Hildegrifa’s body stirred. Xuanxi froze, as if hit by a binding spell. She watched Hildegrifa’s lashes flutter, her brow slightly furrow, then those amethyst-colored eyes slowly opened.
In those eyes was the morning light, and reflected in them was Xuanxi’s hand, frozen mid-motion, still clutching the back of her head.
Xuanxi’s brain raced. Pretending to sleep was definitely out of the question now; pretending to faint seemed too fake. So she made a foolish decision.
“G-good morning.” She squeezed out a smile, her voice cracking. “Xige, wh-what are you doing in my bed?”
Hildegrifa was clearly just waking up, not fully conscious yet.
She looked at Xuanxi’s other hand hidden under the blanket—the one that had touched her—then at Xuanxi’s other hand frozen mid-air, clutching the back of her head, and finally at Xuanxi’s face, which was as red as a boiled shrimp.
“You just squeezed me, didn’t you.” Hildegrifa’s voice carried the low, husky quality of just waking, along with a softness Xuanxi had never heard before.
“You think I’m dead and can’t feel?”
“…I didn’t mean to.”
“Really?”
Xuanxi buried her face in the pillow, her voice muffled: “I’m sorry, Xige (<).”
Hildegrifa didn’t speak. Xuanxi only felt the blanket move, then a hand reached from under the covers and took hers, fingers threading through her own, interlocking, palm against palm.
“Time to get up.” Hildegrifa’s voice came from the other side of the pillow, already returned to its usual calm.
Xuanxi lifted her face from the pillow. Hildegrifa was already sitting up, silver-white hair falling over her shoulders, the collar of her nightgown slightly open, revealing a glimpse of collarbone. She didn’t look at Xuanxi, simply tidying her own clothes.
“Breakfast will get cold,” she said, standing up and reaching her hand out to Xuanxi.
Xuanxi was pulled up from the bed, bare feet on the carpet. Hildegrifa’s hand still held hers. Xuanxi was led by Xige toward the bathroom, stopping at the door.
“Go wash up.” She let go and turned away. Xuanxi stood at the bathroom door, looking at the hand that had just been held, the scent of Xige still lingering on her fingers. She curled the corners of her mouth and walked into the bathroom.
Breakfast was in the dining room downstairs. The long table was covered with a snow-white tablecloth; the cutlery gleamed in the morning light.
The Duchess sat at the head of the table, today wearing a light purple dress with a white shawl over her shoulders. When she saw the two coming down the stairs, her light purple eyes lit up, as if she was very pleased that her daughter was with Xuanxi.
The Duke sat to her right, his deep silver short hair neatly combed, his dark blue military-style uniform buttoned to the top.
His expression was as serious as yesterday’s, but Xuanxi noticed his gaze pause for a moment on his daughter’s hand interlocked with hers, then looked away. He didn’t say anything else.
“Morning.” The Duchess raised her teacup in greeting to the two arriving. “Did you sleep well last night?”
“Very well, thank you, Madam.” Xuanxi’s voice was steadier than she expected. Hildegrifa didn’t answer, just pulled out a chair and sat down.
Her hand naturally withdrew from Xuanxi’s—after all, you can’t eat with just your mouth. But as she sat, she unconsciously moved her chair a few steps closer to Xuanxi.
The atmosphere at the table was different from yesterday. The Duke didn’t ask any more questions, nor did he give that suffocating scrutiny.
He simply ate his breakfast quietly, occasionally exchanging a glance with his wife. Xuanxi noticed that every time she looked up, the Duke’s gaze would shift away from her face—Xuanxi didn’t know why.
“You’re called Xuanxi, right?” The Duke set down his knife and fork.
Xuanxi looked up. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“I’ve received word that the start of the semester is approaching,” the Duke said, his voice deep. “I’ll send you and Xige back today.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
The Duke looked at her, at those amber-golden eyes. “Feel free to come visit whenever you have time.”
Those words represented the attitude of the Edelstein family. Xuanxi curled her lips. “Okay. Xuanxi understands.”
Freya smiled, raising her teacup to hide the curve of her lips.
After breakfast, the four of them took a carriage, and soon arrived in front of the teleportation array. The Duchess gave Xuanxi a hug—very light, like a cloud settling on her shoulder.
Her light purple eyes looked at Xuanxi, her voice so soft that only the two of them could hear. “That child has never been good at making friends. You’re the first one she’s brought home. Thank you, Xuanxi.”
Xuanxi’s eyes felt a little hot. “Not at all. I’m the one who should thank her.”
The Duke stood not far away, hands behind his back, looking into the distance. He didn’t come over to say goodbye, but Xuanxi walked up to him, bent at the waist, and bowed. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
The Duke looked at her. He reached out and lightly patted her on the shoulder. Xuanxi looked up, but he had already turned around. His silver-gray back was stretched long in the sunlight.
“Let’s go.” Hildegrifa came over and took Xuanxi’s hand.
“Yeah.”
When the light of the teleportation array flared, Xuanxi looked back. The Duke and Duchess were still standing there, hands behind their backs. This time, she was sure he was watching them. She curled her lips and waved at him.
The light enveloped them.
The light of the teleportation array dissipated behind them, and the familiar Academy Mountain Gate appeared before their eyes.
Since the Academy’s teleportation gate hadn’t been established yet, teachers and students could only teleport to the Teleport Station at the foot of the mountain.
From there, it was still a walk to the Academy at the top—a cobblestone path winding upward, flanked by sycamore trees that had already started shedding leaves, golden-yellow leaves carpeting the ground.
I’m back. Xuanxi is back again.
Xuanxi hugged the stack of notes, taking a deep breath. The air carried a mix of grass and soil, completely different from Hildegrifa and Valeris’s territory.
“Walking up?” Hildegrifa stood beside her, her silver-white hair dyed a pale gold in the twilight.
“Yeah, it’s not urgent anyway… mm—” Before Xuanxi could finish, Hildegrifa had already grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the woods beside the path. “What’s wrong?”
Hildegrifa didn’t answer. She let go of Xuanxi’s hand and walked to the center of a clearing in the woods.
Then her entire body began to change. Silver-white scales emerged from beneath her skin—not the partial dragonization they learned in class, but a complete, full-body dragon transformation.
Her form started to expand and lengthen, limbs turning into thick dragon claws, her back arching into broad dragon wings. Silver-white scales gleamed with a cold metallic luster in the twilight.
Lightning light and flames danced across the surface of the scales, flowing from her spine to the tips of her wings, leaving fine arcs and sparks in the air.
A complete Western dragon coiled in the forest clearing.
Her length exceeded twenty meters. Her silver-white dragon body was long and powerful, wings folded against her sides, the edges of the wing membranes a nearly translucent silver-gray.
Her head profile was sharp, the backward-curving dragon horns glinting coldly in the twilight. Amethyst-colored dragon eyes looked down at Xuanxi from above.
Xuanxi looked up at this mountain-sized dragon, her mouth hanging open, unable to close for a long time.
“Get on, Xuanxi.” The dragon spoke—the sound didn’t come from its throat; it resonated directly in her mind—deep, gentle, with a slight tremor. It was Hildegrifa’s voice, but deeper and heavier than usual, like the vibration coming from underground.
“G-get on?”
“I’ll fly you up. Let you enjoy the beautiful scenery.”
Xuanxi looked at that silver-white dragon, at her broad back, at the depressions between scales that could fit a person. She swallowed and climbed up. The scales were slippery.
Even with both hands and feet, her hand slipped once, her knee slipped again, and Hildegrifa had to use her tail to support the sole of her foot before Xuanxi could sit steady.
“Ready?”
“…Ready.” Xuanxi’s voice wavered.
The giant dragon spread its wings and gave a powerful flap—the wingspan covered the entire sky over the clearing. The silver-gray wing membranes were like two enormous clouds in the twilight.
Leaves on the ground were swept up by the wind, spinning and dancing in the air. Xuanxi hugged Hildegrifa’s back, her fingers sinking into the gaps between scales, her face buried in the silver-white mane.
They took off instantly.
There was no violent jolt as she imagined, not even any weightlessness. Hildegrifa’s takeoff was as smooth as water—hind legs pushed off, wings beat once, and her entire body rose lightly into the sky, like a silver-white leaf carried by the wind.
Xuanxi opened her eyes. The twilight spread out beneath her—in the distance was the Floating Peak where the Academy sat, closer were layers of autumn forests, and farther still, she could see the lights of the town at the foot of the mountain flickering on one by one.
Wind rushed past her ears, blowing her dark blue-green hair into an arc behind her.
“So beautiful,” she whispered.
Hildegrifa didn’t speak, but her body tilted slightly, carrying Xuanxi in a wide circle so that every corner of the Academy could be seen from the air.
“Did you fly like this when you were little?” Xuanxi asked.
“…Mm.”
“Alone?”
“…Mm. Sometimes with my family.”
Xuanxi hugged her tighter, arms wrapping around her back, cheek pressed against the silver-white mane. A cool fragrance seeped from between the scales, mixing with the cold wind in the air.
“In the future, you can bring me along,” Xuanxi said.
The dragon didn’t speak, but her body tilted a little more, carrying Xuanxi in another circle. It wasn’t because she had taken the wrong path—she just didn’t want to land too quickly. She wanted to stay with Xuanxi a little longer.
The dragon landed at the Academy’s entrance—not the main entrance, as landing there would cause a commotion. Instead, Xige chose to land on a patch of grass beside the side entrance.
Xuanxi slid off her back, legs a bit weak. The whole time, her weight had been pressed against Hildegrifa’s dragon back, clinging to her scales, breathing in her scent—that feeling had made her heart race, and it still hadn’t calmed down.
After landing, Hildegrifa prepared to transform back into human form. Silver-white hair spilled onto her shoulders, her dark gray dress somewhat disheveled in the twilight.
Xuanxi didn’t dare look at her. It wasn’t exactly shyness—it was because, during the landing, a question had suddenly occurred to her: when Xige transformed into a dragon, where did her clothes go?
Did they get torn? So was she wearing her own clothes now, or not? So was she—
“What are you thinking?”
Xuanxi jerked her head up. “N-nothing!”
“Your face is all red.”
“That’s from the wind.”
“The wind is cold. How could it make your face red?”
Hildegrifa walked up to her, raised her hand, and lightly chopped the top of Xuanxi’s head with a knife-hand.
Tap. “Unless… you’re thinking about something bad.” Xige hit the nail on the head.
“That hurts, you know.” Xuanxi covered her head. It didn’t hurt at all.
“Next time you fly, don’t think about strange things.”
“I wasn’t thinking about strange things. I was just wondering—”
“Wondering what?”
Xuanxi opened her mouth, then closed it. What could she say? She couldn’t exactly say, “I was wondering where your clothes went.” She lowered her head, her face red from the base of her neck to the tips of her ears.
Hildegrifa looked at her, at that face as red as a boiled shrimp. Her amethyst-colored eyes blinked.
“…You are thinking about something strange.”
“I’m not!”
“Let’s go.” Hildegrifa turned and walked away.
“Xige!”
“Let’s go back for dinner.”
“Xige!”
Hildegrifa didn’t look back, but her steps slowed just enough for Xuanxi to catch up.
The two walked side by side into the campus. The cobblestone road glistened wet under the streetlights, and the sycamore trees on both sides rustled.
Xuanxi walked beside her, watching her profile—the warm orange light from the streetlamp fell on her face, creating a soft contrast with her silver-white hair.
Xuanxi curled the corners of her mouth, reached out, and took Hildegrifa’s hand.
Back in Room 404, Xuanxi placed the stack of notebooks on the desk, together with the diary, handkerchief, and notes. The area under her pillow was fast becoming a small library.
She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The ceiling of the dormitory was gray, with a crack in it—she stared at it every night. She remembered that in the castle of Hildegrifa’s family, the ceiling was pure white, without a crack, smooth as a mirror.
She stared at that crack, and somehow curled her lips. It’s better here.
Not because it was better than the castle, but because here there was Hildegrifa’s bed—no, in the castle, Hildegrifa’s bed was right next door.
Then why? She couldn’t quite explain it. She just buried her face in the pillow, greedily breathing in the fragrance.
Just as Xuanxi was rolling around on the bed, her communication stone vibrated. A message from Valeris: “Back?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t rush to return the notes.”
“Mm.”
“I heard from Xige that your heavenly fate mark changed?”
Xuanxi’s finger hovered above the screen. She walked to the mirror, turned her face sideways.
The three dark golden lines beneath her right eye glowed faintly in the twilight. The third line, forced out by the Duke’s pressure, meant her seal had loosened by one layer.
She took a photo of her three lines and sent it over.
Valeris’s reply came quickly: “Three lines. Congratulations, that means the seal is starting to loosen.”
“And with three lines, you can now attempt small-scale dragonization—an arm, a palm, or any part that feels convenient. You won’t collapse like last time.”
Xuanxi stared at those words. “Partial dragonization won’t trigger the seal?”
“No. Three, six, and nine lines each mark a watershed. Every three lines of seal unlocked allows you to perform stronger operations, because the restriction judges that your physical strength can now handle it.”
Xuanxi put down the communication stone and looked at her right hand. With a thought, dark blue-green scales emerged from under the skin, covering her fingers, the back of her hand, her wrist.
Not like before, where dragonization would suddenly be suppressed by the seal—now it was quiet, controllable. From fingertips to elbow, every scale carried a faint golden light pattern.
She clenched her fist; the scales rubbed together with a soft rustle. The heavenly fate mark lay quietly beneath her right eye, emitting a unique glow—not painful, not hot.