"I can sure take them, but..."

"But?"

"Ooof..."

Shame flushed through me, heat prickling my skin — but if I miss this opportunity — I might never get a chance.

"What if, say, I... will ask you for a different reward?"

"Oho? Which one?"

"...Say this brazen adventurer wanted to trade his points for a different kind of reward."

I forced the words out, low and steady, hoping they landed softly enough not to shatter the fragile space between us.

"Like... to chase a certain long-held desire? One you and I both know walks the edges of this alignment you just described?"

I stood completely bare in that moment — A slight shift flickered in Grynoth's eyes.

"Ah, an excellent question", — he finally said, smirking just a little bit — Let's say I gave in — not as your partner, but as your conquest, with you taking what you wanted to prove yourself. What would be left of us after that?"

"Imbalance? No... worse, the most extreme one."

"Exactly. And if you fail to rectify it in the near future?"

I already knew the answer.

"Our relationship... will shatter — and, in the worst case, it could break the fragile trust we've built — not just between us, but between our peoples."

"Also correct", Grynoth said "Whether my patience, your consciousness or both, it will not survive... unless you will throw your entire self on rectifying this afterwards. So: are you willing to take that risk?"

I shook my head fiercely.

"No. Not at all."

"Not at all? Or not in the current time?"

"Well, technically it's the second one but... I seem to be so far away from filling the other side of the scales that it doesn't even matter."

A gentle smile crept across Grynoth's face, soft and unexpected.

"You're shifting, Gran — from chaotic good born of raw impulse, to one guided by awareness and heart. You're learning how to feel without collapsing. That's the beginning of mastery."

I looked up, a little stunned at the word.

"Mastery?"

He nodded once.

"The bond you're chasing — it isn't impossible. But it can't be taken. It has to be earned, shaped, tempered across time and contradiction. Because it carries weight across species, age, role, and history."

He tapped the table once, gently.

"This conversation — this restraint — was our first true step."

My heart hammered in my chest as I processed his words, feeling both disappointed and relieved. Did he just say what I think he said? That there might actually be a chance for... us?

Part of me wanted to push further, to demand a clearer answer, but something about Grynoth's wisdom had sunk in. Balance. Timing. Patience.

"I may have been wise to you", he continued, "but this is the kind of wisdom you meet everyday, whether you notice it or not. 'give and take', 'slow and steady wins the race'. How often have you heard those?

"Plenty of times," I admitted. "But they always felt like empty platitudes. The kind of stuff adults say when they don't have real answers."

"And now?"

I took a sip of my tea, considering. "Now I think I'm starting to get it. Those sayings survived because they're true, not because they're convenient."

Grynoth nodded, seemingly pleased. "Wisdom often hides in plain sight, disguised as clichés. The challenge is to truly understand rather than merely repeat."

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the morning light streaming through the windows, painting patterns across the wooden table. Something had shifted between us—not just in our relationship, but in my understanding of what I was doing here, in this strange world.

"So," I finally said, setting down my cup with newfound determination. "Ten points, huh? How much do I get for learning to do magic without setting myself on fire?"

Grynoth's laugh was like distant thunder—warm and rumbling. "That depends entirely on how spectacularly you fail before succeeding."

"Challenge accepted," I grinned, feeling lighter than I had in days. "And for the record, I'll take those ten points. Seems like false humility is just another form of imbalance. So... let's press onward?"

Grynoth nodded.

"Indeed. Now then..."

"Hold on a second." I cut in, half-teasing: 'Shouldn't you lead by a positive example?

Grynoth blinked for a while.

"My apologies... sometimes, I struggle to adapt too, as I said. So... which misstep have you spotted?"

"Why? Patenting this alignment system, of course! It is your child, your son, right? Well, brand it by your own fully-unique mark just as we humans take advantage of our property rights! You made a discovery, believe it or not — well, time to get this dragon ego of yours flexing, baby!"

Grynoth's eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of genuine surprise on his usually composed face.

"Brand it?" he repeated, rubbing his scaly chin. "I've never considered... naming it."

"Well, why not? The 'Grynothian Balance' or the 'Dragon's Equilibrium' or something equally pretentious," I suggested with a grin. "Humans do it all the time. We're absolute narcissists about getting credit."

Grynoth tilted his head, considering my words with unexpected seriousness. "It's not narcissism to acknowledge one's contributions," he said slowly. "Perhaps there is wisdom in your suggestion."

"Wait, really?" I hadn't expected him to take me seriously.

"Balance applies to recognition as well," he said, tapping his claws thoughtfully against the table. "Too much pride is arrogance, but too little..." He looked at me pointedly.

"Is self-denial," I finished, understanding dawn. "Another extreme."

He nodded, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Very good."

"...So what'll it be? The 'Grynothian Cross'? 'The Scales of Dovah'?" — I asked.

"The Quadratic Harmony," he said — firm, unhesitating. "Four corners, four extremes, one center."

"Hmm..."

I tested the name on my tongue.

"That... sounds a bit sterile. And soulless," , finally said. "It needs a punch. It needs a myth. Something people can feel in their chest."

He leaned back, clearly unimpressed. "Well, I never claimed to be a poet."

"Good," I said, grinning. "Because that's where I come in."

"You sure are..." He folded his arms across his chest, waiting.

"Hmm..."

I considered my options. My experiences with Grynoth. My experiences with literature with books, mangas and comics. But everything was not quite there: I needed something unifying of both humans and dragonkin — or maybe even beyond. Who knows if aliens exist too, after all.

Then it clicked.

"The Mortal Matrix™"! — I proclaimed.

Grynoth's eyes widened, then narrowed in thought. For a moment, I worried I'd gone too far with the ridiculous trademark symbol, but then a low rumble started in his chest, building until it escaped as full-throated laughter.

"The Mortal Matrix," he repeated, scales glinting as his shoulders shook. "Dramatic, memorable, and just pretentious enough to appeal to scholars. I approve. Will make sure to brand my tobacco next."

I beamed, unreasonably proud of myself and completely ignoring the last remark. "Plus the trademark keeps others from stealing it!" I added, pointing a finger.

"Ah yes, human copyright law. Truly your species' greatest contribution to civilization," he said dryly, but his eyes still held that amused glint. "Then it's settled," Grynoth said, looking somewhat pleased with himself. "And you've earned another five points for that lesson."

"What? I didn't do anything!"

"You balanced my perspective," he said simply. "That's worthy of recognition. Also your ridiculous stunts never stop,press me, which is an achievement in its own right, unironically."

Something warm stirred in my chest.... It wasn't just the points—it was the acknowledgment that I had something valuable to offer him too. And a recognition that we have grown a bit closer indeed.

"So," I said, trying to hide how much his approval meant to me, "what's next on the adventure curriculum? More farming? Magic lessons? How to properly intimidate villagers with my dragon companion?"

"Actually," Grynoth said, rising from his seat with unexpected energy, "I think it's time to play one of their board games with you — the card one."

"Woah... that's what I call an alignment shift! Are you sure?"

"More than sure. You love your games. And *I* have something else important to show. So...shall we begin?"