Chapter 1
The day had finally arrived for Princess Gloria to receive her Guardian Knight. Chosen when she was eight, trained in the Royal Knight Corps since, he was now being delivered to his newly adult mistress.
"I'm finally getting my knight!" Gloria exclaimed to her nursemaid, Natasha. "The Duke's daughter has been flaunting hers at every banquet for a year. Now it's my turn."
"You and Prince Gareth have always been the brightest stars at any ball, Your Highness."
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The King's most beloved daughter had come personally to the Corps headquarters. A private lounge was prepared while she waited for her knight.
Gloria passed the time reviewing a parchment scroll from her brother, Crown Prince Gareth, detailing the knight's credentials. The scores were dazzling.
**Elstar Drago**
Course Grades: A+
Physical Fitness: A+
Honors: 8 Excellence Medals, 8 Popularity Awards.
Final Review: *A master of archery and concealed weapons. Agile, swift, an excellent shadow operative.*
Remarks: *He is very quiet. The Princess need not worry.*
A full-body portrait was attached, painted in a frustratingly abstract style. Elstar Drago appeared not particularly tall, with a nimble build. His flaxen hair was in a high ponytail. His face? Impossible to discern.
Gloria was puzzled. Why paint a portrait when a recording crystal would be far more accurate? But she wasn't picking a suitor. She just needed her knight to be quiet. Quietness was a knight's best virtue.
"A quiet knight is so boring, Your Highness," Natasha teased. She was one of the few people Gloria trusted. "You should be finding fun young men at parties to pass the time."
Gloria shook her head. Her elegant golden hair framed a face dominated by pure gold eyes, clearer and brighter than the sun. "I prefer solitude."
"You've always been this way, my dear. Only the King and the Prince can ever truly get close to you."
"A quiet knight is perfect," Gloria said. "My health can't tolerate noise." And, most importantly, a quiet knight would never reveal her secrets.
The secret that she was a transmigrator. She had died of a strange illness at sixteen in another world and woken up as an infant in this one. A world of magic and miracles, free from the pain of hospitals and the torment of calculus. She was now the cherished Princess of the Sessel Empire. But pretending to be a normal child had been a constant, exhausting act. To protect her secret, she kept few servants close.
Until she turned sixteen, she had managed it perfectly.
In Sessel, noble girls received their knights upon coming of age at fifteen. Gloria's debut had been delayed a year due to her health.
Her knight, Elstar Drago, had been her own peculiar choice. At age eight, bypassing all the qualified candidates her father offered, she'd picked a starving orphan she found dying on the roadside.
In a storm, the boy had collapsed before her carriage, burning with fever, coughing violently, clutching a rusty sword as a crutch.
"Just a vagrant swordsman, Your Highness. Pay him no mind," the coachman had said, raising his whip.
"Stop!" the young princess had commanded. "Give him food and water. He'll freeze."
"Your compassion is divine, but you cannot save every soul, Princess."
That was her first lesson in this world's harsh realities. The class divide was absolute. But she only cared about the dying boy in front of her.
"Then I'm just saving this one!"
The coachman had sighed. "This lucky soul should thank the Princess."
"Your Highness, Elstar is here."
The knock snapped Gloria from her memories. She straightened her gown, filled with anticipation to see what that skeletal boy had become.
The door creaked open. The Commander stood aside. And in walked a knight in full silver plate armor, his face and hair entirely covered. He was towering, powerful, a heavy sword at his waist. His sheer presence was intimidating.
Gloria stared. His head nearly touched the ceiling. *They really train them big here*, she thought. And then she waited. One second. Two. No one else came through the door.
"Where is Elstar?" she asked the Commander.
"Is he not standing right before you, Your Highness?"
Gloria looked at the giant. Then at the portrait of the short, slender boy. "Commander, are you sure there's no mistake? The picture and the product don't match."
The Commander's eyes glazed over, a flicker of hypnotic suggestion briefly visible—though a confused Gloria missed it completely. "No mistake, Your Highness! This is our finest knight, Sir Elstar!"
"Can I exchange him?" Gloria asked with faint hope. "I mean, choose another?"
The Commander, unyielding, pitched aggressively. "His talents for infiltration are unmatched! He's perfectly quiet, he won't disturb you!"
It wasn't just about noise anymore. This knight was a massive pillar of a man; impossible to ignore. She scrutinized him, standing before him. On tiptoes, she barely reached his chest.
Curiosity sparked. "Take off your helmet. I want to see your face."
The knight paused. Then, slowly, two armored fingers lifted the helmet's edge with a metallic *clack*. Gloria noticed his armor was seamless, not a sliver of skin visible. But just as he was about to lift it—
"Your Highness!" the Commander interjected, voice strained.
Gloria, fascinated by the knight's huge hand that could cover her entire face, didn't look back. "Yes?"
The Commander's eyes narrowed into slits—inhuman and cold. He bowed. "Training a new knight from scratch would take at least five years."
Five years...
The fight instantly left Gloria. Her father would never allow her to be knightless for that long. So, the face under the helmet didn't matter anymore. Ugly or not, he was hers now, and non-refundable.
Gloria left in disappointment, the giant knight trailing silently behind her. The Commander had been right; even his heavy boots made no sound on the marble corridor.
She glanced back. A quick, furtive look. His shadow was huge, completely engulfing hers.
"Your Highness..." A low, muffled voice sounded from above her. She jumped. "Do you have any orders?"
Gloria flushed, embarrassed at being caught. "No. Nothing." Then, with a haughty sniff, she issued her first command. "You are not allowed to speak unless I call your name!"
Silence. Then, "Yes, Princess." The reply was disconcertingly quick.
Gloria grumbled. Was he mocking her? She stomped down the hallway, each step aimed squarely on his shadow, as if that could relieve her frustration.
The afternoon was her sacred sunbathing time, necessary due to a strange congenital ailment. Without two hours of daily sunlight, she would suffer coughing, fever, and searing skin pain by nightfall.
In the garden pavilion—her private sanctuary by royal decree—Natasha told her stories. Today's topic was dragons and elves.
"The elves shifted their faith from the God of Nature to the immortal Elf King," Natasha mused. "What about dragons? Do they have a faith?"
"No," Natasha said, gently combing Gloria's golden hair—a color more precious than the richest silk. "They are greedy, powerful, indifferent. They exist in the gray between light and darkness and rarely meddle in the affairs of other races."
Gloria shifted in her chair, and a single golden strand caught and snapped, falling to the ground.
*Clang!*
A heavy sound came from outside the pavilion. The knight, who had been a silent statue, had stumbled. His heavy sword had clanged against his leg armor, the noise deafening in the quiet garden.
Perhaps softened by the memory of the scrawny boy, Gloria spoke. "Elstar, if you are tired, you may sit on the steps."
"I don't need rest." His voice was strangely hoarse, with a rough swallow.
Glancing down at him from the pavilion, their angle allowed her to catch the sliver of his eyes within the helmet. They were long, narrow, and lazily half-closed, glinting in the sun with deep, dark gold.
Gold? Such eyes among humans were virtually unheard of. Hers were considered a divine blessing. Confused, she blinked. When she looked again, his eyes were a dull, ordinary dark brown.
Maybe she'd imagined it. But... had his eyes always been that color?
"Elstar," she asked, trying to remember, "has your cough gotten better?"
Silence. Then, a rasping "...Cough."
So it had gotten worse. Her sympathy overcoming her doubts, she sighed. "Poor Elstar. All that training couldn't cure it. Well, if you need to cough, don't hold back."
And with her hair finished, she left.
The silent Elstar was in a state of internal crisis. His first time pretending to be a human, and nothing was simple! To cough or not to cough—if only he could control this princess as easily as he'd hypnotized the Commander, life would be simple.
Under his helmet, his half-closed eyes lazily opened. A cold, greedy, inhuman gaze fell on the severed golden strand the princess had left behind. Oh, how he wanted to pick it up. His pupils burned a dark, hungry gold. He'd heard that food dropped on a table was still fine to eat if you picked it up quickly.
*Gulp.*
The evil dragon sighed, his eyelids drooping in resignation.
He was just so terribly hungry.
