Dragon King's Harem Chapter 500. Dragon King Mode: On

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 500. Dragon King Mode: On

I sighed. “Alright. Maybe I was enthusiastic.”

“You bred like a storm god,” Jyne whispered, elbowing me. “Own it.”

“I will,” I said calmly. “After breakfast.”

Al muttered, “I’ll need therapy.”

I picked up my tea. Sipped. Let the warmth settle.

My mind turned slowly toward the next battle: court. Maria. The proposal.

But peace was a short-lived illusion.

The door creaked open again, cold air slipping into the dining hall like a smug messenger, and the tension arrived before the man even stepped inside.

Callum.

The Witch King himself.

He entered without a single word.

No greeting. No sneer. No passive-aggressive remark wrapped in sarcasm and ice.

Just silence.

Which, coming from Callum, was far more unsettling than any insult.

His boots clicked against the frost-marble floor, elegant robes trailing behind him in layers of silver and midnight. A few elven nobles glanced up and looked away just as fast. Al’s entire posture stiffened. His jaw clenched.

But I didn’t move. I just kept sipping my tea. Calm. Grounded. Horns polished, tail tucked neatly. Dragon King mode: on.

I knew why he didn’t speak.

Because of what I did yesterday. I didn’t just sit in the palace and wait for court games. I went out there—into the snow-laced ruins and frozen alleys of their city—and helped. Helped fix broken conduits, lifted fallen debris with my power. And later, I hunted with Kaelen. Yeah. I taught the Crown Prince of the snow elves how to track and bring down game in a winter-ravaged forest. Helped feed his people. Brought back fresh kill like it was nothing. And that?

That changed their perspective of me.

Not just some foreign dragon king. Not just a political pawn or a beast with a crown.

They saw me work. Saw me choose to serve before demanding anything.

And Callum?

Yeah. He noticed.

That also changed the energy.

Especially when I handed them over to the chef and said, “Dinner.”

So yeah, Callum didn’t talk.

He walked stiffly to his seat, like his spine was holding in all the words he wished he could throw at me.

But what actually made my tea go cold was her.

Thiphania.

She entered behind him like she owned half the glacier. Her steps were silent. Graceful. Her robes shimmered—ice blue silk clinging to curves that should’ve been outlawed in a climate like this. Her lips were a soft wine red, her lashes long and frost-dusted, and her smile?

That smile wasn’t political.

It was personal.

She glanced at me once as she passed behind her father. Her eyes locked onto mine. Unflinching. Bold.

And then she smirked.

Just a flick of the mouth. A curve of lips. Like a secret spoken in silence.

But that gaze?

It said everything.

“I like what I heard last night.”

Not “I’m interested in diplomacy.” Not “you seem powerful.” No. This was a look a fox gave a meal right before she bit it.

Did I feel embarrassed?

No.

Did I feel disturbed?

Absolutely.

This was the first time a princess had openly looked at me like I was the one on the menu. Like she wanted to take me, not politically, not diplomatically—but obsessively.

Modern times? Fine. Gender equality and all.

But here? In a realm where princesses weren’t even allowed to choose their own future?

This was rare.

And unsettling.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” she said sweetly, her voice cutting through the silence like the blade of a perfectly chilled dagger.

I didn’t blink. Didn’t smile. Just nodded.

Beside me, Jyne’s tails twitched. I could feel her barely-contained smirk from the heat she gave off.

Sela muttered under her breath. “Sela hates her voice.”

Across the table, Al glared at Callum like he wanted to set him on fire and then sue the ashes.

The food hadn’t even arrived yet.

We were still waiting for Maria and Kaelen, which meant the usual royal protocol of “smile and suffer through awkward silence” was in full effect.

So of course, the conversation had to start.

Al broke first. “She’s staring again.”

“I know,” I said without looking.

“She hasn’t blinked in thirty seconds.”

“Dragons can handle staring,” I said.

“Apparently not alone,” Jyne whispered next to me.

“She smells like perfume and bad intentions,” Sela added.

“Her tail isn’t even moving,” Jyne hissed. “She doesn’t have a tail, but you get the point.”

Thiphania leaned forward. “I can hear you, you know.”

“Oh, we know,” Jyne said with a smile so polite it should’ve been illegal. “We were hoping you would.”

“Thiphania,” Callum said finally, still not looking up, “you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“No, father,” she said, still staring at me. “I’m just being honest. Isn’t that what your court always demands?”

That made the room go quiet again.

I took another sip of tea and set the cup down slowly.

“Lady Thiphania,” I said, meeting her gaze evenly, “I hope you enjoyed your evening. Though I recommend sound proos scrools next time if discretion is a priority.”

She blinked. And smiled wider. “Oh, I didn’t mind the noise. It was… impressive.”

Jyne cracked up, covering her mouth. “You hear that, my king? Your roar’s got fans.”

“I don’t want fans,” I muttered.

“You have groupies,” Al said grimly. “This is the worst timeline.”

I leaned back, fingers steepled, staring at Callum. “Your silence is unexpected.”

Callum looked up finally. His eyes were unreadable. “I have nothing to say to a man who brings down monsters before dinner and then roars loud enough to rattle enchanted walls.”

“Ah,” I said dryly. “So you are impressed.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I am concerned. There’s a difference.”

“Funny,” I said. “The frostfiends weren’t concerned. Until their spines snapped.”

Jyne murmured, “Savage.”

Callum’s fingers curled slightly over his goblet. “Your Majesty. Your… physical prowess may excite the bored women of court—”

Al cut in, voice like ice shards. “Watch your mouth.”

Callum looked at him. “You’d know something about mouths, wouldn’t you, Sir Almeric?”

“Say that again,” Al said, standing halfway up.

“Language,” I warned, eyes narrowed. “We’re still guests.”