Chapter 1: Encounter with the Dragon Girl, and the Beginning of the Journey

  Episode 3: Cream Bread

  Apparently, she didn’t know where we were, either.

  She said she'd been here ever since she hatched—from an egg.

  There was another dragon nearby when she first emerged, or at least she thinks so. Her words were vague.

  That dragon taught her a few things, then vanished.

  After that, humans came. One of them put the collar on her.

  They left random objects behind. Eventually, they stopped coming.

  She waited.

  She couldn’t remove the collar herself, so she waited for someone who could.

  And eventually… I showed up. And the collar came off.

  We opened a door together and peeked beyond.

  Behind it was a stairwell. We climbed. Found another door.

  That one opened to a world covered in snow.

  The air hit me like knives. My breath turned white instantly.

  Mountains stretched out in every direction—jagged peaks dusted in snow, lakes like shards of glass scattered in the valleys, endless pine forests and open plains.

  She gasped.

  Her eyes lit up like a child seeing the sky for the first time.

  She spun in place, cheeks flushed, her voice ringing with joy:

  “Amazing! Amazing!”

  I had no clue where we were.

  My school uniform was way too thin for this kind of cold, and my sneakers were already soaking through just from standing in the snow.

  I turned to her.

  “You should stay if you want. But I’m going back inside. It’s freezing.”

  She didn’t look cold. Bare legs, thin blouse, zero shivers.

  Dragon biology, I guess?

  Still, she followed me without a word.

  Once we were back in the room, I sat down and pulled out the bread I’d bought earlier.

  Bacon-cheese bun, slightly squished. Cream bread, untouched.

  Just eating something might help me settle down.

  I opened the first bun—and instantly felt her eyes on me.

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  She leaned in, sniffing. Her gaze locked on my hands.

  I’d intended to share. I’m not heartless.

  “…Want some?”

  She nodded. Eagerly. Like, multiple times.

  I tore the bread in half and handed her a piece.

  She took it with both hands, sniffed it like a curious animal, then looked at me again.

  I took a bite. She copied me.

  Sort of.

  She tried to swallow it whole like a snake. Didn’t work.

  She looked back at me, frowned slightly, and started chewing properly.

  As she chewed, her eyes widened. Her pupils dilated.

  Then they rounded—like a cat’s, shifting from slits to full moons.

  She swallowed, slowly raised her head, and said,

  “This is good. I’m happy. Thank you.”

  Then she went for another bite.

  I should’ve stopped there. Should’ve kept the cream bread to myself.

  But no.

  I had to be generous.

  The bread was soft, sweet, filled with a gooey cream that was basically a sugar bomb in pastry form.

  It was also… messy.

  She bit in too hard. Cream squirted out.

  She licked it off her fingers, eyes bright with joy.

  Then off her palm.

  Then the corner of her mouth.

  I looked away.

  “This is good,” she said again. “I like the things you give me. They feel good.”

  I nodded. Wordlessly.

  I’d taken one bite. That was enough. I handed her the rest.

  She accepted it with a smile.

  Then—without warning—she leaned in and licked the cream off my finger.

  Her lips wrapped around the tip.

  I froze.

  She slid her mouth away, pulling the cream with her, then went back to eating like nothing happened.

  I remained seated, motionless, processing… all of that.

  I opened my tea bottle and drank. Slowly. Intentionally.

  She watched me.

  Of course she did.

  So I offered her the bottle after drinking half. She took it, tilted it—

  And spilled.

  I panicked and grabbed a handkerchief from my bag.

  Wiped her chin, her neck. Got to her collarbone. Stopped myself.

  She didn’t react.

  Other than her looks, she acted more like a kid. Or a puppy.

  But because she looked like a beautiful girl about my age, it was… confusing.

  After one failure, she learned. She tilted the bottle carefully this time, drinking in small gulps.

  I sat and watched her throat move as she swallowed.

  And then I started thinking.

  How the hell did I get here?

  Just a few days ago—or maybe hours, I don’t even know—I’d go home, eat whatever my parents made, half-ass my homework, watch videos, chat with friends.

  That was normal.

  Now I’m sharing bread with a dragon girl in an empty stone room on a snow-covered mountain.

  A flicker of memory hit me. Pain. Cold. Fear.

  Dying?

  Maybe.

  I wanted to go back. Of course I did.

  But when I looked inside myself, there was this hollow space. A sense of loss.

  Like something important had been scraped out—and couldn’t be put back.

  I wasn’t going back to the life I knew. That much was clear.

  So why was I here?

  Because she called out?

  Because I answered?

  It sounded way too neat. Like a manga plot.

  But… thinking I was here to help her made everything easier to swallow.

  I looked at her again.

  She was drinking carefully now, eyes closed, content.

  The light from the walls shimmered across her face, and I couldn’t stop watching the way her throat moved as she swallowed.

  Yeah.

  I had no idea what was going on.

  But I wasn’t alone.