34 – Dragons laying eggs is normal, right?

“W-why am I laying an egg?” Panic hit like cold rain. Lilith’s eyes went wide like twin moons as the Little White Dragon covered her small belly, disbelief written in those big, glassy eyes. “Y-you… I… we… we can’t have a child, right?”

“Of course dragons lay eggs,” Nidhogg said, calm as winter stone. “It’s a normal body thing. Like how you shed hair every day, drifting like little feathers on the wind. Dragons have a few days, now and then, when they lay eggs.”

“That’s a trait shared by all dragonkind,” the Black Dragon went on, voice steady as a hearth. “That pack of mischievous boys cried for their moms and dads the first time they laid one. Your reaction’s actually pretty good.”

“Oh.” Lilith’s taut heart loosened like a bowstring easing. So it was just a cycle. She’d spent all night fearing their play had made a life by mistake. Turns out she was overthinking.

But the breath she let go only got halfway before it snagged. She looked up at Nidhogg, words tripping like pebbles on a slope. “B-boys? Male dragons lay eggs too?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t they?” Nidhogg nodded, matter-of-fact as sunrise. “It hurts more for the guys. Their bodies aren’t shaped for it, like a shell scraping a narrow gate.”

“So male dragons’ eggs are usually smaller,” she added, tone quiet as falling ash. “Souls with stronger magic like to descend into those.”

“Souls? Descend?” The words sounded strange, like frost on summer leaves. Eggs hatch into new life—why was there a soul coming down to possess them?

“Mm. Dragons are children of the Star Canvas,” Nidhogg said, gaze lifting like a prayer to the night. “We walk the earth and birth the flesh, a vessel that can carry a soul. But the soul—that’s the more important part—comes down from the gods themselves.”

“So every dragon has two pairs of parents. One pair are dragons, who give them bodies. The other are gods, who send the soul into this world.”

“Biology just left the building.” After Nidhogg’s explanation, Lilith felt her worldview crack like porcelain on stone. The Little White Dragon touched her flat belly, palm trembling like a leaf. Hearing that the lifeless little thing inside her would go through that eerie growth made her head throb like a drum. Only in moments like this did she truly feel she’d been reborn into another world.

For a human, this kind of reproduction was just too abstract. Like trying to hold fog in your hands.

“How long will it stay in my belly?” Lilith hugged her stomach, voice small as a reed flute. She didn’t want that egg hogging space inside. Forget the blow to her male pride—being a so-called big man forced to lay an egg was bad enough—having a growing lump in her belly sounded straight-up uncomfortable. If it could be out sooner, great.

“Usually not long. Three to five days. It varies,” Nidhogg said, sitting beside her like a shadowed pillar. “It’s tied closely to body size. Smaller frame, shorter time; the egg won’t develop much before it’s laid. So for you, two or three days.”

As she spoke, the Black Dragon reached out and touched Lilith’s belly, pressing lightly like testing ripples on a pond.

Two quick clouds of red rose on the Little White Dragon’s cheeks. She slapped Nidhogg’s hand away, puffing her face like a steamed bun. “Quit it. Didn’t you touch enough yesterday?”

“No.” Nidhogg didn’t hesitate. Her answer fell like a pebble in a still lake.

“How long do you want to touch?” Lilith stared, speechless, a dry wind in her chest. She rolled her eyes big as saucers. “I can’t move anyway. Touch as long as you want.”

“Don’t know. Never thought about it.” Nidhogg shook her head, words simple as bare branches. Her mouth said no, often and easily, but her hand stilled for only a heartbeat. Then it drifted back, a quiet tide returning to shore.

“Mm… you’re so annoying.” Lilith fixed her with dead-fish eyes, flat as a winter lake. A little hurt pricked like a thorn. Why was the Black Dragon always interested in her body? Was her flesh really that magnetic?

“All right, all right, I’ll behave.” Nidhogg smiled and drew back the wandering hand, then opened her arms and folded Lilith close, holding her like a warm quilt. She dipped her head and pressed a kiss to the Little Dragon’s brow, feather-soft.

“W-what are you doing?!” Lilith hadn’t expected it. Her cheeks blossomed into pink clouds, the whole pale face flushing like dawn on snow.

“A late good-morning kiss,” Nidhogg murmured, eyes narrowing into crescent moons. “Feeling any better?”

“O-of course not.” The Little White Dragon turned her head away, chin up like a proud swan. She was not some love-struck lightweight who went fluttery from one kiss. A mere good-morning peck wouldn’t breach her defenses!

“Is that so? You look pretty happy to me.” Nidhogg pointed at the curve of Lilith’s lips, a shy crescent trying to fly.

Lilith grabbed the corners of her mouth and tugged them down, forcing the smile back like tethering a kite. She held her face stiff as carved jade. “I am not smiling. That’s your illusion. If you see me smile, your eyes are broken. You should go to a hospital. I absolutely won’t smile because of one good-morning kiss. But if you like it, another one isn’t out of the question. I’m indifferent to that, I—mm!”

Nidhogg watched the Little White Dragon, cheeks red and logic twisting like vines. Lilith’s mouth was iron-hard—she could prop up the sky with it if needed. But Nidhogg knew ways to pry open a duck-tough beak.

She lowered her head and claimed Lilith’s lips.

Caught off guard, the Little Dragon gasped, sending her thin ration of oxygen out in a single sigh like a startled bird. In matters of lip and tongue, Lilith was clumsy, and Nidhogg ran circles around her. Barely a minute passed before the city walls crumbled and the gate swung wide. The conquering general marched in and sacked the place—plunder, fire, chaos—until the Little White Dragon was dizzy as a spinning top. She could only tap weakly at the Black Dragon’s arm, like a kitten scruffed by the neck, choosing surrender with a tiny plea.

“How’s that? Is this good-morning kiss more your style?” Nidhogg whispered, voice low as velvet.

Lilith said nothing. She buried her face back in the pillow, shut her eyes like closing shutters, and threw a punch that shooed the Black Dragon out of the room.

Nidhogg left wearing a smile, bright as a sliver of sun. She stopped at the door. “Remember to eat. Rest a bit, and I’ll rub your waist. Ella might come by this afternoon. Do you want to see her downstairs or here in your room?”

“In the room.” Lilith’s muffled voice floated from the pillow, soft as cotton.

Nidhogg couldn’t hold back a laugh.

Even the hardest mouth turns soft under a kiss.