Ayla POV: A splitting headache stale wine pulled me out of unconsciousness. My limbs felt heavy, my veins burned with a drugged heat. As I struggled to open my eyes, I felt the cold air hit my bare shoulder as one of them yanked my collar down. The thin fabric of my dress had already been ripped open at the front, and a calloused hand was fumbling with the ties at my waist. "Hey... hey, wait. Are you sure about this?" one of the men muttered, his voice tight with nerves. "She's the Crown Prince's fiancée. If anyone finds out—" "You think a dragonless nobody can actually walk down the aisle and become royalty? Please," the second man’s voice dripping with contempt as his fingers hooked under the torn edge of my dress and pulled it further down. "Cut the crap. Miss Camille Mcintosh gave us a lot of money, and now she's on her way with Kamden prince. Let's hurry up and finish our business before they come." Camille Mcintosh, My half-sister, the illegitimate half-blood daughter born to my father's concubine. At the party last night, she handed me a glass of wine, and after I took a sip, I went unconscious. So all this is her conspiracy. Because she had decided I didn't deserve to marry Kamden and paid these two to finish the job. I felt a surge of anger, when I was a child, because I didn't have a dragon soul and couldn't transform, the whole dragon regarded me as dirt. I was the despised eldest daughter of Earl Mcintosh. Later, before her death, my mother sent me back to the human world and gave it to my human grandfather to raise. But a few months ago, my father had dragged me back for the sake of the family's interests and forced me into this engagement. Memories of medical training and fighting training brought from the human world have poured into my mind violently, intertwined with the humiliating memories I suffered as the spurned eldest daughter in this dragon castle. I can't just sit back and wait. Camille is on her way with Kamden. I suddenly opened my eyes. The drugged heat in my veins made my limbs heavy and dizzy, but as the burly mercenary lunged at me with a nasty grin, I forced my shaking legs to step back until my spine hit the freezing stone wall of the dimly lit room. His heavy body missed me by an inch. In that split second, I slid to the side, locked both hands around his thick right arm like iron clamps, and twisted my waist with all my weight. A loud crack echoed through the room as his elbow joint snapped backward in a textbook armbar. He let out a pig-like squeal and crashed onto the messy carpet. "Shit—she's a fighter?" The second thug froze for a heartbeat before roaring and drawing a rusty iron dagger from his belt. A faint orange-red glow of low-rank dragonfire flickered along the blade as he slashed straight at my face. I tilted my head back. The blade sliced through a few strands of my dark chestnut hair. In the human world, my grandfather taught me medical treatment and fighting training. My right hand shot out to trap his wrist while I stiffened the two fingers of my left hand and jabbed them hard into the soft cartilage of his throat. His eyes rolled back into his head. The dagger clattered to the floor, and he collapsed, clutching his neck and twitching as he choked for air. Panting heavily, I reached into the hidden leather sheath inside my sleeve and pulled out the steel scalpel my mother had pressed into my hands before she sent me away to the human world. The cold metal against my fingertips cleared some of the fog in my brain. Heavy metal boots suddenly pounded against the floorboards in the hallway outside, accompanied by the clanking of gold-plated armor. It was the unmistakable marching rhythm of the Royal Dragon Guard closing in fast. "Break it down! I want to see how that shameless whore explains herself to the Royal Family!" an arrogant, sharp male voice shouted through the wooden door, dripping with excitement and disgust. That was Kamden Griffith, the Crown Prince of the Flame Kingdom, and my high-and-mighty fiancé in name only. "Immediately afterward, Camille spoke in a soft, trembling voice, "Your Highness, please let me go in first. She is my sister – perhaps she will listen to me. I believe she simply made a mistake. I don't want her to be humiliated in front of everyone." I bit down hard on the tip of my tongue. The sharp taste of blood pushed back the dizzying waves of the aphrodisiac. My eyes darted around the locked room. There was no way out through the corridor. The only escape was the floor-to-ceiling window carved with cheap imitation bloodline gold patterns. Beyond it lay a sheer stone drop hundreds of feet above the ground and the howling night wind. Without hesitation, I climbed onto the windowsill. My thin, unpatterned dress whipped violently in the gusts just as a blast of dragonfire blew the wooden door to pieces behind me. As the shattered door panels hit the floor, I leaped out into the dark and dug my fingers into the rough mortar between the exterior wall stones. My fingernails tore instantly, smearing blood against the rock. "Where is she? Search the place!" Kamden's furious roar echoed right above my head. Several torches poked out of the window frame, their orange light sweeping across the stone wall. I held my breath and pressed my chest flat against the shadows half a meter below the sill. Cold sweat soaked my back as the freezing wind cut right through my torn clothes. The moment the torchlight shifted away, I moved sideways like a lizard along the narrow crevices, inching toward the right to get away from the surrounded guest room. A few yards over, I spotted a massive, half-open carved wooden window. Embedded in its frame were deep-blue dragon cores—a symbol of supreme authority that gave off a cold, oppressive glow. My arms were shaking from the drug and exhaustion. My bloody fingers slipped on the damp stone, and my body dropped half a meter into the empty air. Gritting my teeth, I gathered the last bit of strength in my legs and kicked off the wall. The rebound sent me flying sideways like a broken kite straight through the half-open dragon-core window. With a heavy thud, I crashed into a pitch-black space thick with the smell of freezing snow and fresh blood, rolling twice across a thick carpet before coming to a stop. I pushed myself up on my elbows, squinting through the darkness at the heavy black velvet curtains hanging around the room. Mixed with the copper stench of blood was a terrifying, pure-gold dragon scent that made my very soul tremble. The air was so cold it felt like it could freeze the marrow in my bones. Gripping my scalpel tightly, I stood up and used the dim blue light of the window cores to make out a massive black-wood bed carved with coiling dragons in the center of the room. On the bed, a tall, broad-shouldered man was curled up in agony. His dark-gold scale-patterned formal robe—a garment reserved only for the highest royalty—was ripped open, revealing a chest covered in rampaging red-and-gold veins. His eyes were shut tight, his black hair drenched in cold sweat, and every ragged breath he took carried a terrifying mix of frost and roaring fire. I took a cautious step toward the bed, and the man's eyes suddenly flew open. A pair of icy, commanding red-gold dragon pupils locked onto me in the dark, and a wave of pure murderous intent slammed into my chest like an invisible fist.

Ayla POV: Those red-gold dragon pupils swirled with freezing snow and violent fire, and the crushing pressure of his red-gold bloodline slammed me flat against the wall like a giant invisible hand. Red-gold dragon pupils. He was a nobleman. I couldn't breathe or move a finger until a pained groan tore from the man's throat. His tall frame convulsed violently, a trickle of black, poisoned blood spilled from the corner of his mouth, and the suffocating pressure vanished all at once. Gasping for air, I slid down the wall to the carpet. The black blood and the erratic frost-and-fire energy meant he was suffering from a fatal neurotoxin flare-up accompanied by acute cardiopulmonary failure. Before coming here, my grandfather specially supplemented these medical knowledge about dragons for me—the names of the meridians, the meaning of the black blood, the taboos around a royal dragon core. My first instinct was to run for the door. But the heavy boots outside were already pounding closer, and I had just escaped a pack of wolves—I couldn't outrun them in this state. I looked back at the man on the bed. A nobleman with red-gold dragon pupils, clearly high-ranking, clearly dying. And clearly the only person in this building whose authority might outweigh Kamden's. Only I could save him. That was my bargaining chip. But before the negotiation, I have to show him my value. Instead of running for the door, I tightened my grip on the scalpel, braced myself against the freezing dragon scent lingering in the air, and walked straight toward the black-wood dragon bed. "Get out..." the man ground out between clenched teeth. His voice was low, hoarse, and carried the absolute authority of a ruler as he tried to raise a hand to summon his dragonfire. Before a single spark could form, a deep, jagged scar across his abdomen split open. Fresh red-gold blood soaked through his clothes, his arm dropped limply onto the mattress, and he slipped into semi-consciousness. I rushed forward, climbed onto the bed without a second thought, and straddled his firm thighs, ripping open his sweat-drenched shirt with both hands. The dragon core embedded in the center of his chest was glowing a strange, icy blue, while the veins branching out around it burned bright red like magma. The clashing frost and fire were tearing his heart apart from the inside. I took a deep breath, interlocked my fingers, and placed the heel of my hand squarely on the lower half of his sternum. Using my body weight, I began standard CPR compressions. With every hard press downward, the space between us disappeared, and his ragged, scorching breaths hit the hollow of my neck, sending a strange shiver down my spine. "One, two, three..." I counted under my breath while watching his pupils. His skin felt as cold as a block of ice one second and burning hot the next. After thirty compressions, I pinched the high bridge of his nose, leaned down, and pressed my mouth directly against his cold, thin lips to force air into his lungs. The instant our lips touched, a tiny jolt of electricity sparked across my skin and made my heart skip a beat, though the metallic taste of blood in his mouth quickly snapped me back to reality. After three full cycles of CPR, his broad chest finally heaved. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he coughed up a large mouthful of black blood mixed with tiny shards of ice. I rolled off his lap onto the floor, wiped my mouth with the back of my torn sleeve, and flicked my wrist to press the tip of my steel scalpel right against a major pressure point beside his carotid artery. His eyes snapped open again. The red-gold dragon pupils were much clearer now, and his icy gaze dropped to the blade in my hand. "You have a death wish," he rasped, his voice thick with danger. I puffed out my cheeks slightly and met his terrifying stare without blinking. "I'm saving your life. If I don't clear your blocked meridians right now, your heart will explode in three minutes." He narrowed his eyes, staring at me as if weighing whether I was lying, before letting out a cold snort and relaxing his tense muscles to allow me to continue. I slid the scalpel back into my sleeve and used both hands to press and knead the key meridian points across his chest and abdomen where the rampaging dragon breath was backed up. My fingertips brushed over his hard abdominal muscles and the rough edges of that old scar, making his breathing grow noticeably heavier and rougher beneath my palms. With one final, heavy press below his ribs, the violent clash of frost and fire inside him settled down, and the golden dragon core in his chest returned to a steady, warm glow. "What kind of witchcraft did you just use?" His large hand shot out and grabbed my wrist like an iron shackle, the rough calluses on his fingers scraping against my skin. "It's not witchcraft, it's medicine," I said, yanking my wrist free from his grip and looking him dead in the eye. "You owe me your life now, my lord." The corner of his mouth curled into a dark, unreadable smirk, but before he could say a word, chaotic footsteps echoed from the hallway outside. "Search every single room! That little bitch is drugged and hurt, she couldn't have gone far! She has to be hiding on this floor!" "Listening," I met his icy stare without flinching, "You should be more aware of how serious your condition is, but I'm telling you now that I can cure you. If you want to live, you need to protect me first." The heavy footsteps stopped right outside the broken frame of the adjoining area, followed by aggressive pounding on the main corridor entrance of this suite. "Open up! Royal Dragon Guard on official business!" I glanced back at the man on the bed. He was leaning lazily against the carved headboard now, his red-gold eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched me. "It looks like you owe me for shelter too, little wildcat," he murmured in a low, gravelly voice. A deafening boom shook the walls as the guards outside rammed the heavy wooden door, ready to blast it off its hinges.

Ayla POV: "Your Highness, please! This is the Scarlet Flower Pavilion's forbidden top-tier suite! The guest inside might be a high-ranking Dragon Lord..." the brothel madam's trembling voice pleaded from the corridor outside. "Get out of my way! Even if it's a Dragon Lord, anyone who dares hide my runaway fiancée dies tonight! Blast it open!" Kamden's arrogant roar cut her off completely. With an ear-splitting explosion, a blast of high-grade red-gold dragonfire blew the heavy oak door into splinters, sending wood chips and dust flying across the dark carpet. I took a deep breath. Instead of ducking behind the curtains, I spun around, gripped my steel scalpel in a reverse hold, and planted my feet squarely in front of the black-wood dragon bed. Kamden strode over the shattered threshold. His ornate dragon-patterned gold armor gleamed under the hallway's dragon-core lamps, and behind him marched a dozen Royal Dragon Guards gripping long spears tipped with dark-red Dragonslayer Gold. His pale-gold eyes swept the room and locked onto me. Taking in my ripped, unpatterned dress and tangled hair, his face twisted with pure disgust and rage, his fists clenching at his sides until his knuckles cracked. "Ayla! You shameless, cold-blooded bitch! You actually dared to sneak into a brothel behind my back to sleep with some wild man!" Kamden pointed a shaking finger right at my nose. Camille poked her head out from behind his armored shoulder. The pale-pink waterdrop mark painted between her eyebrows made her look fragile and innocent as she covered her mouth, her eyes instantly brimming with tears. "Sister... how could you do something so filthy? His Highness the Crown Prince has been so kind to you, yet you threw away your honor..." I let out a cold laugh and rolled my eyes, my gaze slicing across her fake face. When I was young,I had spent years swallowing Camille’s poison and Kamden’s contempt. "Camille, save those disgusting tears for someone stupid enough to buy them. You know better than anyone who drugged my ale and hired those mercenaries tonight." Kamden took a furious step forward, his face flushing red. "Shut your mouth! How dare you slander Camille when you're caught red-handed! Guards! Seize this whore and the bastard on that bed and execute them on the spot!" Six towering Dragon Guards stepped forward in unison, leveling the lethal, blood-red tips of their Dragonslayer Gold spears straight at my throat. I didn't back up an inch. I simply stood my ground, spine straight, and let a faint, mocking smile curve my lips as I met Kamden's glare. "You dare?" I asked, my voice calm and deliberate, more a challenge than a question. "The man on this bed is an innocent nobleman with nothing to do with us." "Innocent? Anyone who touches a woman engaged to me dies tonight!" Kamden laughed arrogantly, completely oblivious to the fact that the temperature in the room was dropping fast enough to frost the floorboards. I simply folded my arms and waited, serene as still water, for Kamden to finish digging his own grave. Right as the front guard's spear tip came within inches of my neck, a large, calloused hand reached out from behind me and rested lightly on my shoulder. His skin was freezing cold, yet his grip carried an undeniable force as he yanked me backward, pulling me safely behind his broad back. "Who gave you the guts to touch what's mine on my own turf?" A low, icy voice thick with murderous intent echoed through the spacious room. The man stepped slowly out of the shadows of the bed curtains, his torn dark-gold scale-patterned robe hanging loosely over his broad shoulders and bare, scarred chest like a god of death waking from the abyss. Kamden froze for a second. Because the suite was dark, he couldn't see the man's face clearly, though the sheer weight of that voice made him flinch. His princely arrogance quickly took over again, and he sneered. "Playing games in the dark? Kill him!" The Dragon Guards roared and charged forward, the Dragonslayer Gold tips of their spears glowing with fatal red light. The man in front of me didn't even lift a finger. He simply raised his eyelids, and those icy red-gold dragon pupils blazed in the dark like twin suns. A terrifying wave of pure-gold bloodline pressure erupted from his body like a tidal wave, tearing through the room in a split second. The two guards leading the charge didn't even have time to scream before the invisible force slammed into their chests and sent them flying backward into the hallway stone pillars, coughing up mouthfuls of blood. Every single dragon-core lamp along the walls flickered wildly under the crushing pressure and shattered into pieces one after another. The arrogant smirk on Kamden's face froze solid. His knees knocked together uncontrollably as the half-blood dragon soul inside him whimpered in absolute terror beneath the suppression of a pure-blood Dragon-God descendant. Staring wide-eyed into those blazing red-gold pupils, Kamden finally recognized the chiseled, ice-cold face emerging from the shadows. Behind him, Camille let out a piercing shriek, her legs giving out completely as she collapsed onto the splintered wood, her delicate makeup twisted in horror. The man looked down at them from above, the corner of his mouth curling into a cruel arc. "Kamden, did you just say you wanted to execute me?"