The Dragon Lord's Aide Wants to Quit [BL] - Chapter 264

Chapter 264: Letters Before Legends
It started small. A sharp breath that hitched halfway out of his chest.

“Ha…”

Then another.

“Ha…”

And then it spiraled completely out of control.

“HAHAHA!”

The sound burst out of him, loud and unrestrained, echoing off the walls as he bent forward, one hand braced on his knees while the other pressed against his face. His shoulders shook. His breath came in uneven gasps. He shook like a man who had finally snapped under the weight of something deeply, cosmically unfair.

How hard could it be?

That question replayed in his head over and over, each time sounding more ridiculous than the last.

How hard.

As hard as keeping your eyes open when you sneeze.

As hard as biting your own ear.

As hard as going through hell and back, only to be calmly informed that you would need to do it all over again because, apparently, it hadn’t been hard enough.

He straightened just enough to drag a hand down his face, exasperated laughter still spilling out in broken bursts.

But more importantly, Riley felt that this was as hard as convincing a dragon that something was simply impossible.

The apparently immortal being slumped back onto the ground, staring up at the ceiling as if answers might fall out of it if he waited long enough. His arms sprawled out at his sides. His legs gave up entirely.

It had been a week.

A full week of what they generously called learning and practicing.

Supposedly.

Because in truth, Riley had not actually learned anything he could meaningfully practice.

Well. Almost nothing.

Because there was one crucial bit he did manage to learn.

He could now dull his hearing.

That particular skill had come out of sheer necessity, after waking up in a panic for the third time that week because he could hear things no one should ever hear. Things like insects existing too loudly. Things like mosquitoes mating.

He would have to give that win to the golden dragon, who had successfully taught him how to tone it down before Riley completely lost his mind.

But that was not the main lesson.

The main lesson was supposed to be transformation.

Into a dragon.

And back.

That part was going terribly.

It was rather tragic, really, because Kael could not even slow down his own transformation enough to demonstrate it properly. The golden lizard would shift forms so smoothly and naturally that it barely registered as movement at all.

All Riley got to do in class was marvel at his boyfriend’s pecs and abs. Not exactly something he should be proud of as a student, especially when the teacher he was oogling kept on saying things that didn’t make sense to them.

“Like breathing,” Kael had said, utterly sincere.

Which was profoundly unhelpful.

Because plenty of people don’t even breathe properly, and Riley would very much like to know which part of breathing he was supposed to focus on. Where was the “air” supposed to go? The lungs. The chest. The soul. Somewhere mystical and vague that dragons never bothered to specify.

When Riley asked, Kael had only shrugged and said the air would go where it needed to go.

Which clearly was not happening.

Because nothing was going anywhere.

Hence, nothing was happening to Riley.

And to make matters worse, their class was never private.

One golden dragonling would usually sit nearby, small arms crossed, tail flicking in agitation as he observed the entire process. Every failed attempt was met with a slow, solemn shake of Orien’s head, his expression heavy with grave dissent.

The judgment was unbearable.

Riley closed his eyes and let out a long breath, wondering if this was what despair felt like.

__

The despairing pupil finally had enough of sitting there.

Enough of staring at each other in a circle while attempting to will something that stubbornly refused to happen.

He sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, trying to focus and trying to feel something. Anything. Mana. Heat. A pull. A shift. A hint that his body was even remotely interested in cooperating.

Nothing.

Beside him, Liam was doing the exact opposite.

The child had his eyes squeezed shut, tiny fists clenched, face scrunched up in absolute concentration. He hummed under his breath. He leaned forward. He leaned back. He inhaled so hard his cheeks puffed.

If sheer enthusiasm could bend reality, Liam would have already turned into a mythical beast and back three times.

Riley peeked at him through one eye.

That was not how this was supposed to work, since the people around them barely even had to close their eyes to do anything. Obviously, they were newbies, but even then, Riley believed that they were having this much of an issue because they were missing something crucial.

Even he knew that manifestation required some sort of foundation. One can’t just manifest the ability to swim like an athlete without ever touching water.

So something had to be wrong when he couldn’t even think of what basics they should know.

Riley opened his eyes and abruptly stood up.

The sudden movement startled both children. Liam yelped softly and nearly toppled over. Orien’s head snapped up at once, golden eyes narrowing with interest and suspicion.

Riley smiled.

It was the smile of someone who had made a decision.

“Kids,” he said calmly, brushing his hands together. “Give us a second. I just need to talk to the teacher.”

Orien’s eyes lit up with curiosity. Liam looked torn between excitement and confusion.

Before either of them could ask questions, Riley had already grabbed Kael by the wrist.

The golden dragon blinked once.

And then allowed himself to be dragged away.

They barely made it into their room before Riley shut the door behind them and leaned back against it for a breath. One deep inhale. One long exhale.

Then he marched forward and lovingly shoved the golden lizard onto the bed.

This only worked because Kael very deliberately let it work.

The golden dragon fell back against the mattress with ease, propping himself up on his elbows as Riley climbed onto the bed after him and straddled his waist. Riley leaned down until they were face to face, hands braced on either side of Kael’s shoulders.

Kael raised a brow.

Riley took another breath.

“Honey,” he began, voice earnest and strained. “Baby. My one and only.”

Kael’s brow twitched.

“You are absolutely the strongest, and probably, no, definitely,” Riley corrected quickly when Kael’s eyes narrowed, “my favorite dragon.”

That earned him a small pause.

“But honey,” Riley continued, voice breaking just a little, “you are too good to be able to teach me.”

Kael’s expression sharpened.

Riley rushed on. “Either that, or I am so catastrophically bad at this that it’s impossible for me to learn from someone who exists on an entirely different level.”

Kael’s gaze darkened.

Riley swallowed and tried another approach.

“When you were young,” he asked carefully, “was it this easy? Did you just will for things to happen, and they would?”

“Yes,” Kael replied without hesitation.

Riley slapped a hand against Kael’s chest in victory. “See. Babe. You are an outlier. An outlier! And I’m one too, but on the complete opposite end.”

The dragon frowned slightly.

“You were born with more than enough mana to do everything instantaneously,” Riley said, gesturing wildly now. “I was born having to reconstruct an actual dragon heart from mana that you even had to donate to me. That’s not the same starting line. I didn’t even start with the same race!”

Kael did not interrupt. Not that it would be possible to interrupt Riley, who was very passionate about his speech.

“So I need someone who still remembers what it’s like to struggle with mana,” Riley continued. “Someone who knows what it feels like when things don’t just happen because you will them to.”

Kael’s eyes flicked to the side. “Are you saying you want to be taught by that little twerp?”

“Yes,” Riley said immediately. “Not for everything. That would be ridiculous. At some point, Liam, Orien, and I would hit a wall that would stop us from making progress. So we’d eventually need someone who knows more than the three of us combined. And that’s definitely you.”

He leaned closer, voice firm but pleading.

“But for the basics, I think we really need someone who could teach us the letters.”

He rested his forehead lightly against Kael’s.

“Right now, you are asking us to read a whole book when we don’t even know the alphabet.”

The room fell quiet.

Riley waited.

And hoped.

Well, maybe it was the power of using his wiles, a bit of tongue, and a lot of strategically placed praises, including the incentive of going on a date as soon as he could control his shit.

Whatever it was, it worked.

Riley eventually came back into the room with renewed vigor, steps lighter and posture straighter, looking like a man who had wrestled a dragon and somehow walked away victorious.

Kael followed behind him, expression dark as someone who had begrudgingly been called back to go to work.

“Orien,” Riley announced brightly, clapping his hands once. “You’re up.”

“What?” The golden dragonling blinked.

“I managed to ask Kael to let you teach us what you know.”

The room froze.

“Really?” Orien asked, eyes widening in pure disbelief.

“Yes.”

The single word landed like a declaration.

Orien stared at Riley. Then at Kael. Then back at Riley again.

Slowly, very slowly, his chest puffed out.

Something shifted in the little dragonling’s expression. Pride. Responsibility. The weight of being acknowledged as knowledgeable.

And just like that, a new career path opened for the baby dragon.

And what do you know? Riley thought that if Orien ever decided to change professions, perhaps he could really go for a teaching career.