I, Viretta, Am Going to Hunt a Dragon-Chapter 63

"Apologies."

Interfering in other people's love lives—he realized it was incredibly rude. He lowered his head in admission.

"Tch, you admit it right away. How nice. I’m in a good mood now, so it’s fine."

"I’m not sure what you mean, but it looks like you’re both having fun."

"I’m just in a good mood, so I can be kind to you today. Roberto, could you give us some space? I have something to say to this guy. I’ll be right there."

"Don’t make me wait too long."

Roberto, willingly, stepped aside and left Moslin behind.

Once Roberto had made his exit, Iola, who had wanted to return to his room, paused politely.

He pondered Moslin's words three times, and then a slight smile appeared on his face.

"When you say you’re being kind, does that mean you’ll risk your life for something that won’t earn you money?"

"What do you think you’re being so bold for? You should know when to be appropriate. If you risk your life to be kind, you won’t have any life left."

"Is someone like Moslin, nearing sixty, still full of life? Just like my father, huh?"

It wasn’t really sarcasm but a genuine question.

The very idea of asking, ‘Is your life so precious? Really? Why?’ struck him as absurd.

Moslin glared at Iola for a moment before relaxing her expression.

Anyway, today she was in a good mood, and this young man who always provoked her wasn’t so unbearable.

"As a life mentor, I can kindly offer advice about young people’s relationships."

"Aha, no need. I have an engagement, you know."

Iola politely declined with a gentle smile.

However, that smile and those words seemed utterly ridiculous to Moslin. She leaned against the stair railing and crossed her ankles.

"Well then. If the hunt is successful, your engagement will be over. Who will you marry then?"

"If it succeeds, my family will probably find me another fiancé."

"Is that all?"

Iola quietly fell into thought. Although it was a question he could easily brush off, it bothered him.

Would that be all? He really had no idea.

If it failed, he would marry Viretta as planned, but if it succeeded, he would get a new fiancé—that much was clear.

He longed for success while expecting failure, but he hadn’t seriously thought about what would come afterward.

No, even if he wanted to think about it, the future felt as dark as if ink had been poured over it.

If they failed, he might return to Medlit, ruined, and have to marry.

But he couldn’t quite imagine that scene. It was hard to picture Viretta giving up after failure.

On the other hand, if they succeeded, he would send Viretta to the person she loved and get a new fiancé.

What kind of person would that new fiancé be? How would they compare to Viretta? He had never indulged in such fantasies.

"Such a woman, whether for better or worse, I don’t think I’ll meet again."

"Yeah, probably. I don’t expect to see someone like Viretta again."

Before he met Viretta, he had never imagined what his fiancé might be like. But after meeting Viretta, it had become far more difficult to think of any other woman.

Before, hundreds or even thousands of female images had drifted through his mind, making it hard to picture his fiancée.

But now, Viretta’s impression was so strong that other women seemed dull by comparison.

Whether her hair was longer than Viretta’s, her height shorter, her manner more reserved, or her elegance greater—whether he liked it or not, she was becoming his standard.

"I'm lucky to have even briefly crossed paths with someone like her."

The embodiment of optimism, the young man’s eyes sparkled like stars.

Whether they failed and spent years trying to annul the engagement or succeeded and left her, he wouldn’t regret this moment or meeting.

Iola gazed at Moslin for a moment before breaking into a light smile.

"Yeah, for you, she's a pretty good match. So you can keep going, I guess."

"That’s a wrong statement. Viretta is going to hunt dragons to marry the person she loves. For me and that person, the future is nothing but a tragedy."

"You're weak. If I were in your shoes, I’d steal her. Heh, do you know how many men I’ve stolen?"

Moslin clenched her fist and proudly shouted. The words, “I don’t want to know that,” rose to the tip of Iola’s tongue but then vanished.

Moslin, with a gleam of excitement in her eyes, stomped on the floor.

"From the start, what’s this nonsense about a new fiancé? It’s your life. You can choose your marriage partner however you want. I don’t do relationships that don’t make my heart race."

"But did you fail 50 times?"

Iola widened his eyes. Moslin, who heard the innocent question, scowled.

"Hah? It wasn’t a failure! Marriage isn’t the end of love!"

"Breaking up is a failure."

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Marriage doesn’t have to be the end of love, but doesn’t a broken relationship symbolize failure?

Iola didn’t have much trust in Moslin’s views on love, especially considering her history of changing partners 50 times.

Seeing the clear disbelief in Iola’s gaze, Moslin swung her staff and scolded him. Naturally, Iola easily deflected her staff.

"There’s no way that’s a failure! Didn’t you have a first love?"

"I don’t really recall one."

A man, still proud of his chest, was stabbed by Moslin’s staff after mentioning his first love in front of a woman who had never had one—or at least had no recollection of it.

"Hah, late-bloomer. That’s why you’re acting so foolish."

Moslin saw Iola, who had never experienced love or even first love, as utterly foolish and pitiable.

He may not have had a romantic relationship yet, but not even remembering a first love was unforgivable in her eyes.

In Moslin’s eyes, Iola was just a useless clever fool.

With his sharp mind and excellent education, what use was it if he couldn’t even find his own happiness?

She had no obligation to care for him, and it was easy to let it slide, but today, she was in a good mood.

"As someone who’s experienced it, let me give you advice. When you throw yourself into a dangerous situation, it’s best to say things that will leave you regretting it afterward."

When Moslin spoke of love, she softened, like a warm spring day.

Since she was happy in her own relationship, she had the habit of becoming a love evangelist, wanting to make everyone else happy.

She gently patted Iola’s shoulder and encouraged him.

"Before you go out, everyone gets nervous, so they often fall for it. If you're lucky, something good might happen that very day, thinking, 'It might be the last chance.'"

"You’re talking like a mercenary starving for a woman."

Hearing the kind of thing a seasoned mercenary might say over a drink made Iola smile bitterly.

At thirty years old, hearing these words from someone in their thirties felt surreal.

He hunched his shoulders, but Moslin remained unfazed and gave him a thumbs-up.

"I’ve won over four younger, better-looking men this way."

"And then you broke up with them?"

"No? They died. Our work is like that. Back in the day, the wars were much fiercer."

The international situation had stabilized only after Cadelon Medlit’s appearance. Until then, Filian was a vast land full of both large and small conflicts.

It was not uncommon for mercenaries to be hired in disputes between lords.

The wars back then were brutal, and lives were wasted easily. Moslin closed her eyes, remembering those days.

"Don’t regret it if you don’t say it now. I’m telling you now, in terms of danger, this is even riskier than a lord’s proxy battle."

"If we charge head-on and take it seriously, it will be like that."

"So, think it through and clash. It’ll be useless to cry afterward."

Iola’s faint smile wavered.