“···Alright. Then let’s begin.”

  Muttering low, the leader pulled a piece of cloth from his belt.

  It looked like an ordinary wrapping cloth, but the weave was fine and the patterns were intricate.

  Even the feel at his fingertips told you it wasn’t cheap.

  The young grave robber swallowed.

  “That’s··· the magic wrapping cloth, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  The leader spread it out with a grin.

  “With this, size doesn’t matter.

  Wrap it up lightly··· and you can carry it out in your hands.”

  He draped the cloth over the statue.

  The instant the red dragon’s eyes disappeared beneath it—

  Whoosh—

  A brief gust passed.

  The snowfall twisted once, and the air in the forest shivered, faintly.

  And then.

  The massive statue

  slowly, silently

  began to shrink.

  All three men held their breath on instinct.

  The heavy stone bulk lost volume as if dissolving into water.

  The outline of the scales, the angle of the horns, even the gold in the eyes stayed the same··· only the size changed.

  It kept shrinking before their eyes.

  Until, at last, it was small enough to fit in one hand.

  The leader lifted it carefully.

  Lightly, like a cardboard box.

  “···Done.”

  He turned back and said,

  “Good. We move.”

  A small bundle in the leader’s hand.

  The statue hidden inside gave off a faint, subtle tremor even through the cloth.

  No light leaked out··· but staring at it made your vision swim.

  That was when—

  From long ago,

  someone’s memory quietly woke.

  ◇

  “Seriously··· this is so lame.”

  The boy’s voice was full of dissatisfaction.

  Fifty years ago, on the day of the first snowfall.

  The village was quiet, like any winter,

  and Meckem was sitting in front of the statue again.

  Snow piled up and the wind was bitter, but the boy deliberately refused to wear gloves.

  “It’s the same every year.

  Every winter, bowing in front of a rock···

  Like some stupid legend matters.”

  A dragon shape carved from red stone.

  Always there, unchanged.

  The boy sat in front of it for a long while without even clearing the snow,

  then spat out a line.

  “I don’t want to get stuck in this village,

  guarding some statue like Grandma.”

  In the stillness, even the sound of breathing felt sharp.

  The boy hated that silence.

  So he spoke louder, faster, pouring words out.

  “I’m gonna become an adventurer.

  Go to amazing places,

  eat tons of good food,

  meet great companions··· that’s what I’m gonna do.”

  That was when.

  An old woman approached from behind with quiet steps.

  Her footfalls on the snow were strangely soft.

  She reached out slowly

  and gently rested a hand on Meckem’s head.

  Warmth in her palm.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Soft and steady, like an old memory.

  “Meckem.”

  The boy flinched.

  When he turned, his grandmother was standing there.

  An expression that didn’t break even in the snow.

  A voice that never hurried.

  “Even if it looks pointless,

  what we’re protecting isn’t just a simple statue.”

  The boy blinked up at her.

  “Grandma··· no matter how I look at it,

  it’s just a normal dragon-shaped statue.”

  His grandmother smiled quietly.

  Then she reached out

  and slowly brushed away the powdery snow piled on top of the statue.

  Scrape, scrape.

  What showed beneath was a worn outline, faded by time.

  At a glance, it really did look like an ordinary stone carving.

  But those eyes··· strangely enough, they were ‘watching.’

  “This, you see···”

  Her voice

  was lower than the wind, warm as it continued.

  “It’s proof of a friendship

  between a boy and a dragon.”

  “···Friendship? With a real dragon?”

  She didn’t answer.

  Instead, she smiled—like an old breeze.

  ◇

  The story began in the winter when the first snow fell on the village,

  with a small, light basket of firewood.

  “This should be enough···

  we’ll stay warm tonight.”

  As usual, the boy had been wandering along the lower slope.

  With his breath fogging the air, he bent down to gather the last few sticks.

  That was when.

  “···Grrr···”

  From between the leaves—no, now from within the snowdrifts—

  came a low, rough, beast-like breathing.

  The boy froze.

  He was scared.

  But strangely, deep in his chest, he felt an unfamiliar pull.

  What···?

  He moved closer, slowly, crunching through the snow.

  Instead of dry rustling underfoot,

  only the sound of soft snow giving way seeped through.

  And there—

  He saw it.

  A small, wounded dragon,

  covered in red scales.

  Half-buried in the snow, its eyes were shut.

  Yet a faint mana seeped from its body,

  and even in the cold air, the red scales held a dim warmth.

  “···A real··· dragon···?”

  It was smaller than he’d imagined.

  Nothing like the “sky-devourer” from scary stories.

  It looked dangerous··· but somehow, it also looked hurt.

  The boy’s eyes widened.

  On a white field of snow, facing that small red life for the first time—

  In that instant, something that wasn’t quite a voice pierced his mind.

  「···Leave. Right now.

  If you don’t, you die.」

  The boy swallowed a scream and stumbled back.

  Fear swept over him, and he bolted down the mountain.

  But the next day.

  He filled a small bottle with milk,

  wrapped a piece of bread carefully,

  and returned.

  This time, cautiously.

  Half expectation, half worry as he stepped forward—

  and again he saw the dragon, eyes closed, breathing steadily.

  「···You came again.」

  Telepathy.

  The dragon opened one eye and looked at him.

  Without a word,

  the boy set the milk and bread carefully on a rock.

  Then he immediately backed away, as if fleeing,

  and watched from behind a tree at a distance.

  Will it eat···? No—would it even eat human food···?

  The dragon hesitated,

  then as if casting a spell with a single gesture,

  pulled the bread and milk into the air and absorbed them.

  The boy’s eyes lit up.

  Grinning broadly, he clenched his fists.

  「···Annoying human.

  I want to rest. Don’t come again.」

  But the boy called out softly.

  “I’ll come again tomorrow!”

  The next day.

  The boy climbed up again, but the dragon was nowhere to be seen.

  As he looked around,

  a familiar vibration rang inside his head.

  「···Are you looking for me?」

  The boy’s eyes went wide, then he broke into a bright smile.

  “Yeah! I’m Soleya. What’s your name?”

  A brief silence.

  From behind a red boulder,

  the dragon slowly raised its head.

  「···Perkadia.」

  The name spread through the air,

  and like an old pact meant only for the two of them,

  it stayed in the boy’s chest.

  That day, the wind was unusually calm.

  The boy unfolded a small scroll

  and showed a map he’d drawn himself.

  “This is a ‘map’ I drew.

  There’s an ocean here, and a volcano···

  And here—this is a castle that flies in the sky.”

  Perkadia lowered its head in silence.

  The boy’s finger traced the map slowly, carefully.

  “Someday I’m going to travel there.

  Up in the sky, riding on your back.”

  「···I do not carry humans.」

  “Then··· make me the exception.”

  The boy winked playfully.

  Perkadia let out what sounded like a long sigh, then answered low.

  「···I’ll think about it.」

  The boy’s eyes sparkled, clearly pleased.

  A few days later, the boy returned and carefully took out a glass marble.

  “My mom packed this for me, specially.

  She said if I keep it, things will work out—no matter what.”

  Perkadia stared at the marble indifferently.

  A tiny ripple of mana wavered across it.

  For a moment, he watched that light without speaking.

  「···Is a mother a special being, to humans?」

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  The boy looked up at the sky.

  A single snowflake touched his cheek.

  “When it snowed a lot, my mom would hold my hand tight, and she’d say this.”

  Slowly, as if searching through memory, the boy spoke.

  “‘If you keep this safe,

  someday, for sure,

  you’ll meet a truly precious friend.’

  I think··· that friend is you.”

  Perkadia stayed silent a moment, then whispered low.

  「···I am not that kind of being.」

  The boy smiled quietly.

  “No.

  I believe it.

  We met, didn’t we?”

  At that, Perkadia lowered his eyes slightly.

  Behind the rock, the tip of his tail was moving—slowly, slowly.

  The boy saw it and murmured,

  “···We’re really good friends.”

  He’d thought Perkadia would heal

  and fly away any time···

  But he always stayed there.

  The boy always brought something.

  Stories from books he’d read,

  pretty stones he’d picked up on the road,

  a wooden flute he’d carved himself.

  “I made this.”

  Proudly, the boy blew into the grass flute.

  Peee—. Peee—.

  It sounded awful.

  But Perkadia listened without a word.

  The boy didn’t miss the faint twitch of the tail tip.

  “You smiled just now, didn’t you?”

  「···I did not.」

  “But your tail moved!”

  「···Coincidence.」

  The boy laughed, and Perkadia let out a long breath.

  One day, the boy brought an old wooden box.

  “This is our treasure box.

  I only put the stuff I like in here.”

  Inside were a piece of a raft he’d made as a child,

  a silver button his mom had given him,

  and a letter written in crooked handwriting.

  The boy took out a small drawing too.

  A red dragon flying through the sky.

  Now that he looked, it resembled Perkadia.

  Perkadia asked low.

  「···Are you not afraid of dragons?」

  “I was scared when I first saw you.

  But now··· when I see you, I feel calm.

  I like you, Perkadia.”

  At his words,

  the dragon lowered its gaze in silence.

  Again, behind the rock, the tail tip

  moved—slowly, barely.

  The boy grinned.

  “Yeah. I just like you.”

  That night, Perkadia looked up at the stars alone.

  Just me.

  Those words kept circling in his head.

  Ridiculous words.

  And that was why they wouldn’t go away.

  A few days later.

  The boy came running up the mountain, panting.

  In his hands was a large apple glowing red.

  “Look! The most precious apple in our village!

  I stole one when Grandma wasn’t looking!”

  「···Do humans boast about stealing?」

  “It means it’s that special.”

  The boy winked.

  Perkadia stared for a long moment,

  then quietly took the apple and bit into it.

  「···It’s good.」

  The boy beamed again.

  Day by day,

  their time together piled up.

  It became a story,

  then a memory,

  then a friendship.

  And at some point,

  each other’s names

  took root deep inside, just for the two of them.

  That morning was unusually quiet.

  No wind below the mountain,

  and thick fog drifted slowly between the trees.

  With a basket held to his chest,

  the boy climbed the familiar path.

  “Per! Something really fun happened today!”

  But—

  There was no telepathy,

  no familiar breathing.

  “···Per?”

  The dragon stayed there with eyes closed,

  not moving at all.

  As the boy tried to step closer—

  A low, hard vibration slammed into his mind.

  「···Go back.」

  The boy froze.

  The dragon opened its eyes slowly.

  「Today··· I want to be alone.」

  The boy stood there without a word,

  then took out a small apple and set it on the rock.

  “Then, tomorrow will be okay, right?”

  No answer came.

  The boy turned slowly,

  and behind him, without even a breeze,

  night was already settling.

  That night.

  Perkadia sensed an unfamiliar presence down the mountain.

  Human footsteps.

  People’s blood and spears, and voices mixed into their breathing.

  “They say it’s real. A dragon with red scales.”

  “Not fully grown yet, right?”

  “It lines up exactly with the times that kid keeps disappearing.”

  Perkadia opened his eyes quietly.

  「···This is not a coincidence.」

  The next day.

  The boy felt the atmosphere had changed.

  Perkadia didn’t speak,

  and his eyes held a deep darkness.

  “What’s wrong, Per···?”

  「···Are you not afraid of me?」

  The boy shook his head.

  “If I was scared, I would’ve run away a long time ago.”

  「But your villagers are different.

  Their breath··· is aimed at me.」

  The boy couldn’t speak.

  When he stayed silent, Perkadia slowly turned away.

  「A boundary exists for a reason.

  And it must be kept.」

  That night.

  The boy accidentally overheard the village elders talking.

  It had started a few days ago.

  They whispered that after returning from the mountain,

  the boy kept staring blankly out the window.

  “Hasn’t Soleya been strange lately?”

  the baker asked an elder splitting firewood.

  “I don’t know··· He used to play with the younger kids,

  but these days he keeps going up the mountain alone.”

  “I heard him talking to himself at night.

  I don’t know who he’s talking to,

  but it’s like··· he’s waiting for someone to answer.”

  At that, one old man shook his head.

  “Long ago···

  when a beast of the sky appeared near the village,

  something similar happened.

  Someone approached it first,

  and in the end, the village suffered.”

  “Do you think··· the child is hiding something?”

  All eyes turned in the same direction.

  The boy held his breath.

  And he sensed it—something was going wrong.