We spent the rest of the evening enjoying each other's company and talking about this and that.

“...Like I said, you can stay at my place as long as you want, but please keep my house in order and don't make a mess here, alright?”

“Of course! In fact, I can even help clean up if I have to. For your information, I've never stayed on as a useless freeloader!”

“Well, in that case…”

He picked up my taser which I threw last time and handed it to me.

“...you can start now by getting that thing as far away from my eyes as possible.”

“Oh… right!”

I was about to shove it deep in the bag when:

“Shoot…”

“What is it?”

“I left my bag for those things to chew on," — I said, heartbroken

“Well, then you'll have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Sure… if there will be even anything left of it by then.”

“If there's no food supplies in there, nothing should happen to it. Night wolves are voracious creatures, when they see prey, they go for it. Anything that isn't food doesn't interest them at all.”

I just hoped that books and paper were no edible to them, because then my bag was finished.

“And in any case, you did the right thing to leave the bag to them and not yourself. Possessions can be replaced. Life can not.”

I started increasingly doubt that this man was really just a muscleman. He was more like an old sage.

While I pondered that, Grynoth walked into the next room. Soon I heard the boiling of hot water, then, his head appeared from around the corner:

“You smoke?”

“No, but if you want to do it yourself, I don't mind," I replied, anticipating what the next question would be.

“Good. Continue not doing that.”

He nodded and disappeared again. While he was gone, I decided to take another look at the shelf for anything to grab my hands and feast my eyes. The gaze immediately found several books authored by humans. Finding the “Flaming Crest” on the cover again, I couldn't resist taking it off and making sure it was really it, even though I knew it was. The same characters, the same illustrations and the same language... a story of betrayal, redemption, hope and love - just as I remembered. About a young professor dedicating his life to ending a war between rulers who were once his students.

Meanwhile, Grynoth appeared from the next room. I hesitated, but he just waved his hand:

“You can have it for good, I don't mind. By the way, this is for you,” — he said, handing me some kind of potion — “For calming your nerves. We both need it after today.”

“Heh, tell me about it…”

I noticed that in his other hand, he was holding a pouch of tobacco. To think that we have electronic cigars now and they still have tobacco... just like the old days.

But that was not what was worrying

“By the way, I was wondering: why would you want to ruin your own health with that stuff when you can make potions like this?”

“Eh, I still have plenty of it," — he shrugged, "for dragonkin, one century is still only half a life.”

I stood there for a few seconds, simultaneously feeling bewilderment, disbelief, denial, and more. He was talking so calmly about something that was beyond fantasy to me… and now it was so real I began to doubt the reality of what was happening. What if I was already dead and this was all just my posthumous dream?

What finally killed it was the way he lit the tobacco — just put it to his mouth and breathed on it.

“So you can breathe fire, too?”

“Not much. As a built-in lighter, it'll do.”

“Amazing…”

“Still think we're not real?”

“I'm honestly not sure of anything anymore, not that you're real, not that I am.”

At these words, he came over and tapped me lightly on the forehead with his knuckle.

“Ow. Why.”

“For all good things," — he said with a smile, — "and also to make you realize that I am a flesh and blood creature like you. Then he ruffled my hair and continued, "Okay, let's go talk to you about important stuff.”

“Sure!”

I calmed down to a point I felt I was ready for any sort of conversation.

A hide-in-the-corner is certainly no couch, but hey — I've had to sit in worse places.

Sitting up close to the scaly giant steel felt surreal, but I definitely didn't mind. Part of me wanted to lean towards him, but I decided to wait for a more suitable moment.

“So…” we said together.

“You can start first," said the dragon.

“Well, I'd like to ask about you," I admitted.

“As you wish, but preferably choose something specific: a full autobiography would take me a night or more.”

Thinking for a moment, I asked:

“You're... like a warrior, right? You fought like a beast. It was pretty cool, I must say. A real badass!”

“Something like that, yeah, but former. Served as a mercenary, bodyguard, foot soldier and a hitman. Terrible job — all of them, so I left the first chance I got.”

“So… did someone make you do it?”

“Life. Everyone wants to eat and live, after all.”

Taking a puff, he continued:

“We... had enough wars. I’ve come along way to live in a fancy house like that.”

“Well, at least all's well that ends well," I said, trying to cheer him up, "now you're enjoying some well-deserved comfort, so hey, it's not that bad!”

For some reason, a reaction to such a small compliment was quite weird. It seems I’ve somehow made him sad again, so he has changed the subject quite abruptly.

“You were good too,” he said, “you were quick to act and figured out where the night wolves' weak spot was, and even overcome your fear when one of them jumped on you.”

“Ah... heh, thank you. Fencing and hunting are mandatory training for every nobleman. It's been a tradition since, well, forever. Hunting is still considered a pastime of the nobility, so everyone must be skilled in this art in order to participate.”

“Well, thank the gods for preparing you for this ordeal... and yet you should have obeyed me and run away when I gave you an order — I mean, told you to.”

“Yes, I know. But I couldn't leave you, especially after, well, everything that happened.”

“While I'm glad to hear it, you almost made it worse. I had to keep looking at you constantly to make sure you were okay, and when the wolf jumped on you the second time, I almost stopped my heart... I thought you were dead.”

“...I'm sorry.”

‘Why does it always get worse when I want to help someone? It's not right…’

“Next time — please, listen to what the older people tell you to do. There is a reason they are considered an authority to younger ones.”

To think that somewhere earlier that day I would most likely reply something along the lines ‘I will do whatever I want, no adult dares to order me around’… oh how quickly times have changed.

“Of course.”

Gry took another puff, while I munched on my cooled drink.

“Do you humans have military conflicts?” — He asked, — "if you are feeling comfortable talking about it.”

I suddenly realized how difficult it was for me to answer that question.

“No… but yes.”

I saw Gry staring at me incomprehensibly.

“So...which one is it?”

“You see, I've gotten used to the fact that conflict will haunt living things all the time... only instead of iron and steel, our weapons are now made of paper and ink.”

“Oh...so you use non-lethal methods of conflict resolution?”

“The vast majority. Our world has gotten pretty corporate. So now our investors... ehem, I mean generals, fight amongst themselves meeting at the pool table smoking cigars like old friends... when in fact they are studying each other and gathering information that would allow them to outmaneuver their opponents. And when they stop benefiting from each other, their relationship just bursts like a bubble and disappears without a trace.”

I fell silent, and after Grynoth made no comment, continued:

“Sometimes I wonder if I'm just as self-serving... what if I'm just taking advantage of your help now just for a free night's lodging?”

“Want some advice?” — Gry replied, — "Don't think. You'll go crazy if you dwell so much on self-reflection. You've realized your imperfections and let it go if you can't control it. Just make a mental note of it and try to be better. That is all. After all...we all have selfish goals to some extent.”

Suddenly he stood up and went to the table to get an ashtray.

“And yet... if you realize how bad it is, why do you lie? Of course, I realize that you yourself have no dishonest goals and you are not hurting anyone, but... why?”

“Oh… it's a long story.”

“If so, you can save it for tomorrow. Or not tell it at all, though I am interested to hear it.”

“No, it's okay. Anyway, uh.”

...

My backstory actually isn’t particularly dramatic. I was born into a noble family, lived comfortably, and had everything I wanted. But as I grew older, I began questioning the world around me. Our society, though peaceful, still suffers from inequality, corruption, and excess. The arrogance of the nobility disgusted me, and I grew ashamed of my background.

Things got worse when my father pushed me into a life I didn’t want, particularly forcing me toward a legal career. Our relationship soured, and eventually, I left home, taking my camping gear and escaping to live the vagabond life I'd always dreamed of, inspired by adventure books.

At first, things were rough. I dealt with scams and theft, but kind strangers taught me the skills I needed. I kept my noble origins a secret, spinning wild tales to avoid suspicion. Despite the hardships, I found life as a wanderer easier than expected, learning to appreciate the simplicity and kindness of ordinary people. Yet, I couldn’t stay anywhere for long—the search parties sent by my father kept me moving.

Though I enjoyed the freedom at first, the lies began to weigh on me. I distanced myself from people, afraid that if they knew the real me, they’d reject me. My fear of rejection grew, and despite fleeing from a society of phonies, I became one myself.

The real reason I lied to Grynoth? It's a habit now. I've become lonely, and so I hoped the dragon realm would me something I truly craved deep down — a chance for a real fresh start.