Dragon King's Harem Chapter 524. Do This More

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 524. Do This More

“Thank you,” I said.

That did it.

She flinched, but not away. Just in shock.

“Wh… what?” she blinked at me like I’d grown a second tail.

“I said thank you,” I repeated, letting my hand fall back to my side.

She looked like she didn’t know what to do with that. Like it short-circuited something in her brain.

“I brought food,” she muttered, defensive. “Not a battle trophy or anything.”

“And I appreciate it,” I said. “I mean it.”

She squinted at me. “Did Evelina hit you on the head or something?”

I almost laughed. Almost.

Instead, I took a breath and said, quieter this time, “Do this more.”

She blinked again.

I kept going, tone low but honest. “I know this isn’t what you wanted. Any of this. Me. The palace. I know I brought you here far from some grand gesture to the world while barely asking if you even wanted to come.”

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t interrupt. Didn’t correct me.

I stepped closer. Just enough that she had to look up at me now.

“But this thing you did today?” I said, gesturing slightly to the tray she’d brought. “This small effort? This matters. To me. Not just as a king. But as a man who… wants this alliance to mean something. Not just on paper. But between us too.”

She swallowed hard. Eyes darting. Probably calculating a thousand ways to respond that wouldn’t make her sound like she cared.

Typical Glasha.

I didn’t push more words at her.

Instead, I reached again. Gently. Let my fingers graze her cheek, slow and deliberate.

She didn’t flinch.

Didn’t look away.

Her breath did catch though. Slightly. But she held still.

My hand rested there, warm against her skin. Her expression was unreadable. But her eyes, they weren’t cold. They were just stunned. Like no one had ever touched her like this without expecting blood or duty in return.

I brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t break the moment.

And for once… neither did I.

I let it linger. Just a little longer.

Then I stepped back.

She straightened immediately, like the weight of the world had returned to her shoulders and she didn’t want to admit it.

I nodded to her, once. Firm but gentle.

Then turned and walked away.

The hall was quiet behind me.

And I swore, just before I reached the corner…

…I heard her whisper my name.

I didn’t turn back.

Didn’t stop.

I just kept walking.

Every step pulled me closer to a different kind of weight.

My expression shifted again. The warmth I’d shown Glasha vanished like breath in winter. My jaw tightened. My mouth pressed into that thin, tired line I wore too often these days. My face hardened back into the king’s mask. The one that looked carved in obsidian and meant to be obeyed. The one that let me survive war without bleeding too much on the inside.

I passed the decorative pillars.

I walked slower as I neared the far wing.

Not out of hesitation.

Out of necessity.

Because the words…

The words were nowhere near ready.

I ran through every version in my head.

Softer ones.

Formal ones.

Even lies.

But none of them sounded right.

Because how do you tell someone that a piece of their past was just shattered?

How do you tell a woman like Sela that the one person who remembered her before she became Lady Sela, Wife of the Dragon King, before palace walls and politics, was gone?

You don’t.

You just say it.

And brace for the storm.

Her door was in sight now.

Made of reinforced rune-carved stone, framed with ironwood, not because she was afraid of intruders, but because she invited danger like it was a challenge.

No guards near her quarters. Not since the last time they tried to sweep the hall and triggered three separate traps, including a shock rune that sent a soldier into a week-long coma.

Sela liked her space. Her mess. Her rules.

And her room?

It was a battlefield.

I opened the door. Didn’t knock. She didn’t like knocking. Said it made people act too formal, like she had something to hide.

The scent hit first. Copper. Smoke. Oil. Heated stone.

The room was a disaster.

A beautiful, chaotic disaster.

Ribbons of metal wire draped across the walls like spider silk. Crystals hummed low on tables and shelves, blinking in dozens of colors… mana batteries, traps, timers. Some cracked. Some chipped. Some glowing like they were about to explode.

Gears. Hooks. Half-finished accessories that probably doubled as weapons.

And glitter.

She said it helped her think.

I stepped over a bundle of silk cord. A miniature golem with no legs tried to crawl across the floor and bumped against my boot with a weak clink.

Sela wasn’t in sight yet. Probably curled up behind the piles of leather and fabric on the left corner couch, her usual crafting nest when she wasn’t tinkering in the forge.

“Sela,” I said quietly, my voice barely above the ambient hum of enchanted metal.

No answer yet.

Just a faint shifting sound. Something shuffled. Then a groan.

“Your Majesty?” she called back, voice hoarse. “You’re early. Sela is still half covered in rune powder… don’t step near the blue cloth, it’ll stain your soul.”

I almost smiled. Almost.

But the words wouldn’t come.

Not yet.

Not with her still unaware.

I walked deeper inside. The crystal lights adjusted slightly, sensing my presence and flaring from dull green to pale gold. The little magic sensors Sela built herself, they recognized me.

I stepped around a pile of bent pliers and a mound of jagged sapphires with scorch marks. One of the automatons blinked awake, chirped, then shut off again.

There.

She was curled up on the low couch, legs tucked under her, fingers smeared with metallic dust. Goggles rested on her head, pulling her brown hair back in a messy puff. Her skin shimmered with faint heat from recent forgework. She looked comfortable. Focused. Relaxed.

She looked happy.

That made it worse.

I stopped in front of her and let my shadow fall over her workspace.

She glanced up, squinting slightly, then her lips curved faintly. “Did Evelina finally kick you out for hogging her too long?”