I Married the Dragon I Killed

Chapter 2: Have I Returned

“What? The youngest is going through with the engagement to the Crown Prince of Valdrova?”  

The second son, Huren Rosnova, reacted as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.  

With his gray hair and brown eyes, Huren was the brains of the Rosnova family and the man expected to be the next family head.  

He had just returned from a trip to the Empire, where he’d been handling official business on behalf of his father, Erembalt.  

“Yes,” the butler, who was reporting to him, nodded firmly.  

“Are you serious?”  

“It’s true.”  

“That doesn’t make sense. Did he misunderstand something?”  

“I believe he fully understands what this means.”  

“Well, if even my idiot brother gets it, then I suppose it’s clear enough…”  

Huren scratched his chin, unable to wrap his head around the situation.  

‘In a scenario where the only options are death or exile, why the hell would that fool choose death?’  

Was he trying to prove his courage to Father?  

But the engagement had already been approved by the Empire, and once accepted, it couldn’t be revoked. That went for Ferda too.  

If he suddenly said, *“I’ll just leave the house instead,”* the Empire would consider it a breach of imperial law and promptly separate his head from his body.  

“So, what’s that idiot doing now?”  

“He’s preparing to leave today. He should be finishing up his packing as we speak.”  

“Hmm. Then there’s still some time for a brotherly chat, isn’t there?”  

The butler almost rolled his eyes but managed to keep a straight face.  

After all, the person who first ostracized Ferda for being the concubine’s son with blue eyes was none other than Huren himself. For him to talk about “brotherly chats” was downright laughable.  

Hands behind his back, Huren strolled down the hallway like he was taking a casual walk through the garden.  

When he arrived in front of Ferda’s room, he saw the maids who were supposed to be attending him standing outside.  

“Why are you all standing out here instead of attending him?”  

Startled, the maids bowed quickly and began to explain.  

“Well, w-we offered to assist him, but he told us to wait outside…”  

“What nonsense. So you’ve been standing out here, waiting?”  

“Yes, sir…”  

“Pathetic. What, is he dressing himself? He’s still technically a noble, isn’t he? How would he even manage that on his own?”  

Huren clicked his tongue in irritation, though inwardly, he was thrilled.  

‘Of course. Now that the day has come, he’s too scared to go through with it.’  

Clearing his throat, Huren flung the door open.  

“Ferda! What are you doing? You’re not even preparing properly, are you—”

But Huren froze mid-sentence.  

The image he had in his head was of Ferda sprawled on the bed, whining about not wanting to go.  

What he saw instead was…  

‘He’s… dressing himself?’  

Ferda stood in front of a mirror, calmly buttoning his shirt.  

“How could you just barge in without knocking, Brother?”  

Ferda’s tone was calm, almost scolding Huren for his rudeness.  

“I thought you’d be sulking in bed.”  

“Why would I? It’s an important day. How could I afford to waste time?”  

“Then why are the maids waiting outside?”  

“Because I can dress myself. I won’t have anyone helping me after today anyway.”  

His tone was steady, his attention fixed on his reflection as he adjusted his appearance.  

Huren blinked, staring at Ferda.  

‘Is this really the same guy I know?’  

What kind of person had Ferda been before?  

A spineless leech who groveled and begged just to survive.  

But now?  

Now he was calm, composed, and even dignified—like a seasoned nobleman twice his age.  

‘Ferda, of all people…’  

For the first time in his life, Huren felt an odd sense of tension when looking at his youngest brother.  

Trying to brush it off, Huren coughed awkwardly and changed the subject.  

“Ahem. So, I heard you accepted the engagement to the Crown Prince of Valdrova.”  

“Yes.”  

“You’ve read enough books to know what that means, right?”  

“Of course. It’s just a roundabout way of saying, ‘Get out of this family.’”  

“Why do you have to phrase it like that? It’s not like Rosnova would send you away without a single penny. They’ll give you enough to stand on your own.”  

Ferda thought for a moment.  

Money, huh…  

Sure, they’d give him money.  

But how much?  

Enough to live for ten years—*if he lived like a commoner.*  

For someone accustomed to a noble lifestyle, it would last him three days at most.  

‘Well, not that it mattered. I gave all that money to my first teacher anyway.’  

Not because he wanted to. The only mage willing to take on a late-blooming student like him had been a greedy one.  

Even though the teaching wasn’t great, just being able to access information had been valuable.  

‘I bet that guy’s still chasing money and women to this day.’  

Remembering those days, Ferda let out a small snort.  

‘Did… Did he just laugh?’  

Huren couldn’t believe it.  

There was no way Ferda could be misunderstanding what this situation meant.  

But there was also no way Ferda should have the leisure to be laughing right now.  

“You must not fully understand. Do you know why being engaged to the Tyrant Dragon is essentially a death sentence?”  

“Of course. Isn’t it because the first fiancé was torn to pieces?”  

Valdrova’s first fiancé had been the Empire’s third prince, an uncle to the current emperor.  

He had been brilliant, handsome, and widely loved.  

Many thought he would one day ascend to the throne, but he had chosen to reject that path.  

And yet, he was shredded into unrecognizable bits within a day of meeting the Crown Prince of Valdrova.  

The incident led to one conclusion:  

– “Whoever becomes Valdrova’s fiancé must be greater than the third prince in every way.”  

Since then, Valdrova had searched for another fiancé, but no one volunteered.  

After all, if even someone as perfect as the third prince couldn’t survive, who could?  

Eventually, the engagement process became twisted into a convenient excuse for nobles to get rid of their unwanted children.  

“And you think you can succeed where the third prince failed?”  

“Who knows?”  

To be honest, Ferda wasn’t sure.  

Even as the youngest 8th-circle mage in history, he didn’t have enough confidence to say for sure.  

But Ferda wasn’t the type of person to sit around waiting for certainty.  

“Well, I guess I’ll figure it out as I go.”  

Huren stared at Ferda like he was insane.  

With a tired sigh, he tried one last time to warn him.  

“Do whatever you want. Just don’t try to run away.”  

“……”  

“The moment you try to flee, the Rosnova family will send people after you to cut your head off. Got it?”  

In the past, Ferda would have flinched at such a threat, his face pale with fear.  

But now, he simply stared at Huren without a hint of emotion.  

“Brother,” Ferda said.  

Huren, momentarily caught off guard by his gaze, stuttered, “W-what?”  

“You should take better care of yourself. Everyone knows about the way you ogle our eldest brother’s wife.”  

Huren’s face turned bright red.  

“W-what?! You—! What are you even—!”  

“If you feel like hitting me, hold back. I have to walk into a dragon’s jaws, after all.”  

Ferda gave Huren a light pat on the shoulder as he walked past him.  

Huren could only stand there, dumbfounded, watching as Ferda walked away with a calm, almost mature air.