Rynel opened the door and stepped outside.
The cold air hit him full in the face, and snow had piled up to his calves.
A moment later, Monero followed, grumbling.
“Ugh··· I’m freezing to death. I’ll never get used to places where it snows.”
Rynel glanced back.
“Monero. You said your hometown has winters too.”
“It does. But it doesn’t pile up like this.
Where I’m from, nobody ever has to pick up a shovel.”
Just then, the door opened again.
The old man who’d guided them yesterday poked his head out.
“Alright. Let’s head to the village hall.”
The three of them crunched through a narrow alley.
The village was quiet. A few elders were sweeping in front of their doors,
and children were rolling around in the snow.
Not long after, they arrived at a tidy house in the center of the village.
A thick layer of snow sat on the roof, and there was only a single set of footprints by the gate.
The old man knocked, and a gentle voice answered from inside.
“Come in.”
When they entered, a white-haired elder by the fireplace lifted his head.
The way he wore a heavy coat and wrapped a blanket up to his chin stood out.
“Chief, yesterday the snowfall was so heavy I couldn’t tell you.
These young folks said they’d lend a hand while they stay in the village, even if it’s just a little.”
The chief looked from Rynel to Monero.
Rynel bowed first.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Rynel.”
“I’m Monero.”
The chief nodded slowly.
“With this much snow, the village gets a bit busy.
May I ask a favor? Since you’re staying a few days, I’d appreciate it if you helped out, even lightly.”
“Yes. We’ll cooperate.”
“···This feels ominous.”
Monero muttered under his breath.
The chief chuckled and turned his head.
“Good. The villagers will be here soon.
I’ll keep it simple and assign roles, so wait a moment.”
Before long, a murmur rose from outside the door.
“Monero-nim!”
A few village youths came in front of the hall, carrying shovels and snow spades.
Monero took a step back and waved a hand.
“Wait, I’m not mentally prepared yet···”
“It’ll only take a bit! Three, four hours!”
“That’s what you call ‘a bit’?! Rynel, you’re not doing it?!”
Rynel half-turned and said smoothly,
“The chief said he has something to discuss with me separately.
Sorry, Monero. I’m counting on you for my share too.”
“Rynel!!”
Rynel stood at the hall entrance, watching him, and smiled.
That was when a painting on the wall caught his eye.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
A red dragon taking flight over white, jagged mountains.
Every scale was rendered so precisely it looked like it could move.
“Looks like you like that painting.”
The chief stepped up beside him.
Rynel nodded and asked,
“Is that··· the one from the legend?”
The chief studied the painting and spoke slowly.
“Did you hear the story of that dragon yesterday?”
At the quiet question, Rynel thought for a moment, then nodded.
“Yes. The elder··· told me a brief version.”
The chief stared at the painting for a long time, then murmured as if to himself,
“When time passes, legends become stories···
and stories end up treated like fairy tales.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“Still, I believe it.
Do I look··· naive to you?”
Heh-heh. The chief laughed lightly, but there was weight behind it.
A stubborn conviction—something only someone who keeps faith in old things can carry.
Silence settled for a moment.
Then the chief shifted his gaze to Rynel.
“That bracelet of yours.
Have you ever heard of a legend called the ‘Primordial Gems’?”
Rynel’s eyes dropped to his wrist on reflex.
“···No. That’s the first time I’ve heard it.”
“It does resemble a dragon’s tear.
But its purpose is entirely different.”
The chief continued, unhurried.
“They say,
when the first human mage learned mana from the land of the demons and returned,
there was a treasure he received as a symbol of that cooperation.”
Rynel’s eyes widened slightly.
The chief nodded and went on.
“And that mage,
later gave one gem each to the five disciples he treasured most.
That’s how the ‘Primordial Gems’ were scattered far and wide.”
Rynel asked carefully,
“···Are the locations of those five recorded anywhere?”
The chief shook his head.
“No one knows now.
Like a dragon’s tear, those gems are passed down only as legend.”
The chief smiled quietly.
“That humans and demons once cooperated···
these days, people call it a ridiculous story.
They say it can’t be true.”
“But··· the more unbelievable a story sounds,
the more likely it is to be real.”
Rynel murmured.
A faint smile touched the chief’s eyes.
“Good. I’m glad you said that.”
He let the words sit, then added,
“They also say,
if the five gems gather as one again,
you can see the ‘True Abyss.’”
“···The Abyss?”
“The beginning of the world,
a place said to hold the origin of humans, demons, and all life···
and some claim it’s where you face a truth that was lost.”
The chief looked at Rynel’s bracelet one more time.
“Whether it’s real or not, no one knows.
The fewer people who believe, the more truth turns into legend.”
Rynel stared down at the bracelet in silence.
The chief spoke again.
“By the way, you said you’re a mana user, yes?”
Rynel nodded.
“I’m lacking, but I can do basic diagnosis and detection.”
“That’s enough.”
The chief looked out the window and continued slowly.
“At the northern edge of the forest, there’s a statue.
A carving shaped like a red dragon···
This winter, something about it feels off. There’s no visible change, but—
a presence, maybe. People say the atmosphere around it has shifted.”
“···A presence?”
“Yes. Folks in this village are sensitive to that kind of thing.
And the winter rite will be soon.
Just in case, I’d like you to go take a look.”
Rynel nodded and rose.
“Understood. I’ll go.”
◇
Rynel was heading toward the forest to the north of the village.
As he followed the snowy path, a few kids burst out from the end of the alley.
“It’s Rynel-hyung!”
And with that shout—
Thud! Thud!
Two snowballs flew at him.
Rynel jerked aside.
“What—hey. What is this?”
The kids cackled.
“A snowball fight! Play with us!”
They clutched snowballs, fired up.
Surrounded in an instant, Rynel sighed and raised a palm.
“Sorry. Not right now. I have somewhere I need to go.”
“Aw··· you’re no fun···”
Just as they started to lower their snowballs with disappointed faces,
one boy approached cautiously.
“Um··· are you going toward the forest?”
“Yeah. I’m going to check the dragon statue.”
“···Then can I come with you?
I know that place really well. I go there a lot.”
“Sure, Kiriem. Let’s go together.”
Rynel smiled and nodded.
The two of them headed into the forest along the snowy trail.
The other kids stopped the snowball fight and started building a snowman.
Deeper in, the forest was quiet.
Snow lay thick on the branches, and the snow underfoot was crisp and cold.
After a short while,
Kiriem tapped a tree and said,
“Over there. Under that tree.”
Where he pointed, a red statue sat half-buried in snow.
A dragon.
Small and finely made, yet vivid enough to feel alive.
Rynel carefully knelt before it.
“···This is···”
Eyes that gleamed like red gemstones.
Sharp horns, the line of its mouth, the scales flowing along its tail.
“It’s··· so detailed. Like it’s alive.”
“Right? I love this thing.
When there’s no snow, cats and squirrels come too.
Sometimes little birds sit around here as well.”
Kiriem brushed snow off his sleeve.
“We call it the ‘Guardian Dragon.’
It feels like it’s really protecting the forest.”
Rynel fell silent, staring at the statue.
The faint pulse of mana he sensed
was quiet and heavy—like slow breathing.
Then, from far away, someone called out.
“There you are!”
The old man came trudging through the snow.
He stopped by the statue and nodded.
“I’m sure the chief explained, but—
this isn’t an ordinary statue.
When winter grows deep, we offer a small rite here.
It’s to pray we make it safely through the season.”
Rynel looked at the statue again.
“It’s strange···
It’s smaller than I expected, but··· it feels alive. Truly.”
The old man nodded, smiling.
“That’s why everyone just calls it the village’s dragon.
Whether it’s real or not, believing in it is what protects the village.”
At that moment, a gust of wind passed.
A single snowflake drifted down and landed on the red statue.
And for the briefest instant,
it looked as if the statue trembled—like something breathing.
Rynel stood before it without a word.
After steadying his breath, he slowly reached out.
His palm touched cold stone.
At the same time, mana began to flow from his fingertips.
Lightly, but deep.
He tuned the flow.
Natural and gentle, like sending a thread-thin ripple into the statue.
“···?”
That was when it happened.
As if something had been sleeping for a long time,
something inside stirred.
A presence on the verge of opening its eyes.
Unfamiliar, yet sharply defined.
Cold, yet warm.
Heavy, yet light.
Not simple contact—
a connection.
Rynel’s heart gave a small tremor.
But then—
Tap.
Like a thread snapping, the sensation cut off.
Rynel slowly withdrew his hand.
The red statue sat there, silent.
He looked down at his bracelet.
The red gem showed no light, no reaction.
Even in that lack of response, Rynel felt a lingering wrongness.
For a split second, it had felt like something took a breath in.
That’s what he felt.
For a moment,
he and ‘something’ had been connected.
And in that instant, someone far away had been watching.
Beyond the foothills of the snowy mountains, between the trees.
A man in a deep hat and scarf pointed down the slope.
“There.”
In the snow-covered forest,
the red dragon statue sat quietly in view.
Nearby were a child and a man.
Rynel stood there.
The grave robbers’ leader slowly twisted his mouth.
“That’s the dragon statue they call ‘Perkadia.’”
A younger grave robber beside him asked,
“It’s not a real dragon, right?”
“Of course not. Just a decently made chunk of stone.
But those villagers treat it like something sacred.
If we take it to the capital, it’ll fetch a fine price.”
The leader rummaged in his pocket and pulled out an old brooch.
Rust-eaten metal.
A faint Adventurers’ Guild emblem still visible.
He laughed softly.
“Legends, associations, all that.
Doesn’t mean a thing to people who are starving.”
A brief silence passed.
“···But.”
The younger man spoke carefully.
“What if··· it really is cursed?”
“A curse?”
The leader snorted.
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
Beside him, a middle-aged grave robber muttered low,
“···My hometown had a statue like that too.
They called it the ‘Mountain Queen.’
After someone stole it, they said floods hit three times the very next year.”
“You think that happened because of a statue?”
“···Just saying. That’s what happened.”
The leader didn’t take his eyes off the statue.
The dragon’s shape seemed to hold its breath in the stillness.
Eyes closed, as if waiting for something—an eerie quiet hanging around it.
The leader spoke low.
“···This job has to succeed.”
Night drifted down slowly from the sky,
and the snowfall grew harsher.
Villagers returned to their homes one by one.
And then,
a hair-thin crack flickered in the red dragon’s eye.
- ··No one noticed.
The night deepened, just like that.