July 25, 2025

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 473. A Street Rat in Modern World

The rest of the night passed slow and quiet, like a candle burning down in a windless room.

We stayed at the altar longer than we should’ve. No one said anything, really—just silence between flickers of firelight and the distant groan of an icebound palace settling in its bones. There were no grand speeches or ceremonial farewells. No need for it. The snow carried enough ghosts already.

It was well past midnight when we finally moved. Some of the others shuffled off first.

Maria didn’t say much—just nodded, taking Kaelen with her.

I stayed behind until I was sure everyone else was gone, the cold biting at my boots, the altar still humming with a strange energy. Old magic. Not dangerous. Just… watching.

My steps echoed as I finally made my way back to the guest quarters. No guards posted, but I left my own marks—sigils, heatless wards, pressure runes across the doorframe. Nothing strong enough to offend the palace’s systems, but sharp enough to warn me if something tried to sneak in. I didn’t trust the silence of the corridors. Not after today.

Inside the room, it was dim and still. A hint of warmth from a hearth spell, but the bed itself was a crime against nature—ice-lined, cold even through the blankets, built for a snow elven, not a damn dragon.

Sela and Jyne were already there. They’d stripped their formal clothes off hours ago, wrapped in the fur throws near the hearth like two wolves sharing heat. Sela blinked up at me through lazy eyes and patted the space beside them. I didn’t answer. Just collapsed nearby with a grunt and finally let the exhaustion bleed through.

Sleep didn’t come fast. But eventually, it did.

And it was… weird.

Not the usual dreams. Not memories, either. I bounced through scenes like someone flipping a storybook too fast. Flames. Snow. Screaming. Silence. A throne in the middle of an endless desert. A child laughing, then bleeding. The sky split in half. Some goddamn multiverse carousel on crack.

And yet when I opened my eyes, I remembered none of it clearly.

Just feelings. Dread, and something softer tangled underneath.

Guilt, maybe.

I didn’t used to get dreams like that. I’d killed kings. The orc warlord. The minotaur tyrant. I killed his general and still had dinner after.

But Cedric?

Cedric made something crawl under my skin. Not because he was powerful. Not because he tricked us. But because…

I saw myself in that kid.

Kaelen.

Tiny, noble and innocent. I knew he just want a family. A complete one. A mom, a dad and him.

And gods help me, I saw the reflection of a boy I barely remembered.

Not this body.

Me. Before all of this. Before I got thrown into a war-forged dragon form, before I became a king with scales and fangs and a blood-soaked legacy. Just a nobody. A street rat in modern world who had to learn early what pain was and how to hide it.

Kaelen still had his mom. He was born royal. He’d never know what it meant to starve or run barefoot through the alley with bruises on your ribs from street bullies but have no one to turn to.

I opened my eyes to soft golden light pouring in through the high windows. The frost-stained curtains glimmered, and the faint warmth of the hearth hadn’t died out yet. I didn’t know how long I’d slept—probably not enough—but it had to be morning. Or something close.

The room was quiet.

Too quiet.

Sela still slept, tangled in the blanket, her leg thrown over Jyne’s thigh like a stubborn cat. Jyne stirred but didn’t wake. I could hear her soft breathing, even, calm. Maybe she was dreaming of fields and not blood.

I stayed still.

Then whispered, to no one really, “A heir… A kid…”

The words left me with more weight than I expected.

They hung in the air, fragile and full of longing.

I hadn’t said them out loud before. Not like that.

The throne needed it, yeah. That was part of the game. Every king needed an heir. Even in times of peace, there had to be someone ready.

In war? It was necessity. Bloodline secured, power stabilized, hope shaped into a legacy.

But for me?

I just wanted one.

Not for the kingdom. Not for duty.

For myself.

To see if I could be something more than a weapon carved into a crown.

To see if I could be good at it.

A father.

And yet the doubt was right there—sharp and loud.

Could I even be that?

I had no role model. No “dad” in my childhood. Just screams and hunger and survival. I’d seen worse, sure, but I’d also seen how cold power made you.

The memories from this body weren’t much better.

The old dragon kings raised heirs like you raised battle dogs. Tutors and trials. Swordmasters and etiquette. There wasn’t room for soft things like affection. Just expectations. Failure was punished. Emotions were ignored.

Would I be different?

Could I?

I closed my eyes again, not to sleep, just to breathe.

Somewhere in the hall, I heard distant steps. Probably the guards changing shifts. Probably Maria getting ready to do a thousand things with a thousand expectations, like nothing had happened. Like her-should-be-husband hadn’t just died at the hands of a stranger.

No, not a stranger.

Me.

The irony of it was cruel.

I sat up, careful not to disturb the two women beside me. The cold nipped at my skin, but I didn’t reach for the outer coat. I didn’t move toward the basin, either. I just sat there on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, staring down at my hands.

Clean now—but only on the surface.

My thoughts drifted again to Kaelen.

What would he see when he woke up?

A palace without Cedric. A kingdom still spinning in frost and grief.

Would he ask where I was?

Would he hate me?

Would he understand?