Yulia blinked, her mind a blank. She'd made a few snacks, but they were acting like she'd sold her soul.

The girls opened the double doors to the top-floor suite. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and silk curtains draped over cherry wood furniture dragged from the Dragon's vault.

The room opened to a wide terrace with a view of the jagged horizon. It was massive—a hundred square meters of luxury.

Yulia's eyes watered. Compared to her old thirty-square-meter rental back home, this was paradise.

"Where are you staying?" Yulia asked, smoothing her skirts.

"Just down the hall," Jane said. "We have a rotation for night duty... call us for anything."

Yulia tried to protest, but they pushed her into the room and clicked the heavy relief-carved doors shut.

The moon hit the floor around 10:00 PM. Yulia stripped off her day dress and slipped into a white lace nightgown.

The fabric was soft, intricate lace designed by a God with surprisingly high-end taste.

Yulia stood by the mirror, admiring the silk before walking to the terrace to pull the curtains.

A shadow blotted out the moon. Wind whipped through the terrace, throwing the glass doors open with a sharp bang.

A massive, black-scaled wing clipped the railing, and a gust of hot, volcanic air filled the room.

"Lord Caerus?" Yulia stood by the bed, her knuckles white as she gripped the silk sheets.

"Why the stupid question?" The dragon's voice was a low, jagged rumble that shook the floorboards. "I'm here to sleep".

"Wait, wait!" Yulia blocked the path to the bed. "You have a volcanic cave! You'll crush my pillows!"

Caerus tilted his massive head, golden eyes narrowing into slits of molten light. He looked at the tiny girl in her white lace, the silence of her presence drawing him in.

"Fine."

Golden light flooded the room, melting the massive beast into a slim silhouette. The black-haired man stepped out of the glow, his face a mask of cold boredom.

He grabbed Yulia by the waist and tossed her onto the mattress. Before she could scramble out, he slid in beside her.

A pale hand rested heavily on her hip, pinning her to the sheets.

"Sleep," he commanded. It wasn't a request.

Yulia stared at the ceiling, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Caerus drifted into a dream. Usually, his head was a riot of screaming prayers and blood-soaked memories.

He saw fire. He saw the ashes of empires under his feet.

Then the scene shifted. He was in the Golden Hall of the Farislan Empire.

He watched a High Priest bark at a girl in a rose-colored dress.

"Do you repent for your crimes?"

The girl smiled.

"I don't believe in God."

In the memory, an armored knight—Loren Eir—stands in front of a girl resembling Yulia. Caerus watches the standoff from the shadows of her mind. Everyone in that hall wants her dead, yet she stands her ground, her tongue a razor that leaves them speechless.

It doesn't change the ending. Her fiancé sends her to the abyss while a ball rages at the Rose Palace to welcome her replacement.

"Boring," Caerus muses. "Stupid, predictable humans." A century ago, he burned their palace to ash. A century later, the inhabitants haven't learned a thing.

Sunlight floods the room. Caerus extends a finger and pokes Yulia's cheek.

She swats the finger away in her sleep and huddles closer to the warmth. She mumbles something into his chest. Then, her body goes rigid.

Wait... do dolls hug back?

Her eyes snap open. She is wrapped in the Black Dragon's arms.

"Time's up," Caerus says, hoisting her out of bed by the collar. "Get to work."

Yulia stares at him, her mouth agape. It is exactly like waking up to find a manager standing over her bed with a time clock.

"Fine, Lord Caerus," Yulia says through a tight, fake smile. I'm spitting in your lunch today.

Caerus catches the flash of teeth and the murderous intent in her eyes, but he simply yawns. Yulia grabs a dress and retreats behind a folding screen. He follows her.

"What are you doing?" He reaches for the edge of the panel.

Yulia grips the wood until her knuckles turn white. "Changing clothes, Lord Caerus. Ever heard of it?"

Caerus looks at her, his golden slit eyes flat and unbothered. "Why the barrier?"

"Lust is a stone to me," Caerus drones, his voice cold. "Male, female, one year old or a hundred. You are all just shapes in the dirt. This screen is irrelevant."

Yulia forces a sharp, commercial smile while a vein pulses in her forehead. "Nobody asked for your review, sweetie. It matters to me. Close your eyes if the view is too 'stony' for you."

Caerus lets go of the screen after a five-second stare-down. "There is a hot spring north of the hall. You can use it. The others cannot."

He walks out, nearly knocking over Jane and Molly as they stand guard. The maids rush in the moment the door clicks shut, scanning Yulia for injuries.

"Can you... walk?" Jane whispers, her face pale.

Molly sighs, her shoulders dropping in relief. "The Dragon has mercy on the Princess. Maybe you will suffer less this way."

Yulia stares at the ceiling. They think she is a mistress. In reality, she is just a pair of living, noise-canceling headphones.

"Princess Yulia!"

Giotto waves from the lawn, a bright grin on his face. "Morning! Well, it's noon, actually."

Yulia squints at the clock tower. It's 11:30. Compared to her old boss who demanded a 7:00 AM punch-in, the dragon has a shred of humanity left.

"Morning, Gi..." She stalls. "What was the rest?"

"Giotto Austin Alvinton Fox, Princess," he repeats for the fifth time.

"Right. Jojo."

Giotto points to boxes of seeds scavenged from the sacrificial offerings—wheat, tomatoes, hops, and olives. "We cleared them all out. But harvest won't come until autumn."

Yulia picks up a handful of wheat seeds. "Who says we are waiting for autumn?"

Giotto's eyes go wide. "Of course! The Divine Test!"

Yulia Farislan—the top of her class in Light Magic. In this world, high-tier Light Magic doesn't just heal wounds; it makes life thrive.

Yulia was an ag-major back in her world. If she'd had this magic during her finals, she'd be a superstar researcher by now, not dealing with a homicidal dragon-boss. She maps out the weeds. Wheat for the buns. Tomatoes for the sauce.

Her stomach growls like a cornered beast.

"Enough talk," Yulia says, rolling up her sleeves. "Let's dig."