My Crybaby Father is the Kingdom's Worst Villain
Chapter 47: Questions Without Answers.

Chapter 47: Questions Without Answers.

The first guard’s eyes widened as he squinted into the dim moonlight, struggling to make sense of the silver-haired figure Luzia was dragging behind her. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, his voice rising in alarm.

"My goodness! My lady—what is that thing you’re carrying?!"

Luzia’s brow twitched. That thing?!

She didn’t slow, her grip firm as she dragged Roldan along, her boots pounding against the dirt as she barreled toward the entrance.

The second guard took an instinctive step back, his face paling as his gaze locked onto the faint glow of Roldan’s slit-like red eyes. His breath hitched, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It’s a—" He swallowed hard. "A baby dragon!"

Luzia’s head snapped toward Roldan, and sure enough, his form had shifted. Wings tucked against his small frame, shimmering scales catching the moonlight—he had actually transformed into a baby dragon.

"What the...? Why—why did you transform?" she asked, incredulous.

Roldan tilted his head, his reptilian eyes gleaming with amusement. "Wouldn’t this be a better form than appearing as a boy almost your age?"

Luzia exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple. "Ugh. Do whatever you want."

A ripple of unease spread among the guards. Swords scraped against scabbards, hesitation flickering in their eyes. The scent of burnt earth still lingered in the thick night air.

Luzia didn’t stop. If anything, she ran foward with Roldan.

"Didn’t you hear me? Withdraw your swords!" she barked, her golden eyes flashing with authority.

"But, my lady—!" the second guard protested, his grip still firm on his sword.

"Let me in!" Luzia snapped, her voice cutting through the thick night air.

The guards exchanged uneasy glances. The tension between duty and hesitation flickered in their eyes before they finally relented, stepping aside and lowering their weapons.

Just as Luzia crossed the threshold, hurried footsteps echoed from within. Esteban and Elena emerged, their expressions shifting from confusion to outright shock at the sight before them.

Esteban blinked, his jaw slack. "What in the world...?" His breath caught as he took a step closer, his eyes darting between Luzia and the tiny dragon nestled in her arms, tiny claws curling against her sleeve, its silver-blue scales glinting under the torchlight.

Elena’s hand flew to her mouth, her gaze locked on the creature’s delicate yet razor-sharp claws as they curled against Luzia’s sleeve. "My lady—where... when... how?!" Her voice trembled between awe and alarm.

Luzia pushed past them without slowing, her grip tightening on the dragon’s small frame. "Not now, We need to act fast" she muttered, urgency pressing every syllable.

Esteban and Elena exchanged wary glances before following, their footsteps quick and uneven.

The great hall loomed ahead, its towering stone walls absorbing the echo of hurried movement. The guards at the entrance hesitated, their hands still hovering near their swords. One swallowed audibly.

Esteban blinked, half-convinced his eyes were playing tricks on him. No... that’s real.

"That’s an actual dragon," he murmured, as if saying it aloud would make the sight any less surreal.

"Yes, thank you for stating the obvious," Luzia shot back, her patience thinning.

The baby dragon huffed softly, a curl of warm air escaping its nostrils. Roldan’s sharp eyes flicked toward the guards, then to Esteban and Elena, studying their expressions with something dangerously close to amusement.

Esteban ran a hand through his disheveled hair, exhaling slowly. "Luzia... you do realize what this means, don’t you?" His voice carried an edge of caution.

Luzia met his gaze, unwavering. "I do."

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Then, at last, Esteban sighed, rubbing his temples. "Alright. Since this is the only option we have."

Luzia glanced down at Roldan. He met her gaze, giving a small, firm nod before wriggling free from her grasp. With a single flap of his delicate wings, he lifted into the air, gliding toward where Ramiro lay motionless on the stone floor.

As soon as Roldan landed beside him, he folded his wings against his back and stepped closer, his claws clicking softly against the ground. His crimson eyes flickered with something unreadable as he took in the sight before him. Ramiro’s wound had worsened—the once-deep gash now blackened, pulsing like an open maw. Dark veins stretched outward from it, creeping up his arms and neck, a web of corruption seeping into his skin.

Roldan exhaled slowly, then closed his eyes. He placed his tiny hand over the festering wound, his silver-blue scales shimmering faintly in the dim torchlight. A heavy stillness settled over the room, as if the air itself had thickened, holding its breath.

Luzia clenched her fists at her sides. This had to work.

A faint glow pulsed beneath Roldan’s small hand, spreading outward like ripples in water. The blackened veins recoiled at the light, twitching and writhing as if resisting. Ramiro’s body jerked, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Luzia took a step closer, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Is it working?" she murmured, barely above a whisper.

Roldan didn’t respond. His eyes remained shut, his expression unreadable as the glow intensified, washing over Ramiro’s wound. The corruption pulsed violently, dark tendrils rising to the surface of his skin like living shadows. Then, with a sharp hiss, they began to peel away, the inky veins retracting toward the wound’s center as if being drawn out by an unseen force.

Ramiro’s back arched, a strangled cry escaping his lips. The tension in the room deepened. The guards stood frozen, their hands gripping their weapons, unsure whether to intervene or watch in stunned silence.

Then, all at once, the darkness retreated with a final, agonized shudder. The wound beneath Roldan’s palm shrank, the tainted flesh knitting itself back together until only a faint scar remained. The sickly black veins faded, leaving Ramiro’s skin pale but untainted.

The glow around Roldan dimmed. His small body wavered, wings drooping as exhaustion settled over him. Luzia was beside him in an instant, steadying his fragile frame with careful hands.

’Ah... transforming into my dragon form took a lot of my magic,’ Roldan thought.

Ramiro’s breathing evened out, his body still trembling from the ordeal. Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open, revealing dazed, glassy eyes that struggled to focus.

Esteban released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. "Impossible..." he muttered.

Luzia, still supporting Roldan, turned her gaze toward Ramiro. "Dad?" she called, voice firm but laced with something dangerously close to hope.

Ramiro blinked sluggishly, his lips parting as if to speak. Then, in a voice hoarse from pain, he whispered, "Luzia...?"

Luzia’s breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she couldn’t speak, couldn’t move—her father’s voice, weak as it was, felt like a lifeline pulling her back from the edge of despair.

"I’m here," she said, kneeling beside him. Her grip on Roldan loosened as she reached out, hesitant fingers brushing against Ramiro’s arm. His skin was cool, too cool, but no longer marred by the spreading corruption.

Ramiro blinked again, his dazed gaze flickering between Luzia, Roldan, and the gathered figures. "What... happened?" His voice was hoarse, as if it had been scraped raw.

"You were dying," Luzia said bluntly. "But you are healed now."

Ramiro’s gaze shifted to the small silver-blue dragon still slumped against Luzia’s side. Roldan managed a weak, wide-eyed look before his eyes slid shut.

"That... is a dragon," Ramiro rasped.

"Yes, Father, well observed," Luzia muttered, rubbing her temple. "Now, can you sit up?"

Ramiro groaned, shifting slightly as he tested his strength. But then his weary gaze flicked back to Roldan, suspicion creeping into his expression.

"Luzia... where did you get the dragon from?"

Luzia exhaled sharply, already feeling the headache forming. "Does that matter right now?"

Ramiro gave her a long, tired look, as if debating whether he had the energy to argue. Luzia, however, was not in the mood for patience.

"If you’re well enough to interrogate me, you’re well enough to sit up," she snapped, shifting her weight to haul him upright. He grunted as she helped him, his body still weak from whatever dark magic had nearly claimed him.

Esteban stepped forward, hesitance flickering in his eyes. "My lord, perhaps you should rest—"

"Sir Esteban, please keep quiet. If he needed rest, he wouldn’t be asking so many damned questions," Luzia cut in, golden eyes flashing.

Esteban nodded quickly, swallowing whatever protest he had. Before he could stammer out a response, Ramiro let out a dry chuckle—hoarse, weak, but unmistakably amused.

"Still sharp-tongued as ever," he murmured. "I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t just let me die."

Luzia scoffed. "I considered it."

Ramiro managed a smirk, though it barely reached his eyes. "Luzia, for the last time—where did you get the dragon?"

Luzia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "For the last time, does that matter right now? You’re alive. He saved you. Maybe direct your gratitude there instead of wasting breath on pointless questions."

Ramiro looked at her with a knowing, unyielding stare.

Ah, so he was just going to wear her down until she answered. Typical.

She exhaled sharply, then pouted. "Fine. I found him in the forest."