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Dragon King's Harem Chapter 411. Ironic Situation
🕑 Added 2024-12-18 20:20:16 +0000 UTCDragon King's Harem Chapter 411. Ironic Situation
Argod’s PoV
I stepped out of Glasha’s room, the heavy door clicking shut behind me. For a second—or maybe longer—I just stood there. There was this strange ache in my chest, a dull, gnawing thing that wasn’t quite pain but wasn’t comfortable either.
I hated it. Hated how it made me feel… weak. Vulnerable. Like I wasn’t the Dragon King anymore but just some guy grappling with memories that refused to stay buried. And damn, those memories were vivid.
The moment I closed my eyes, I saw my past self—the man I used to be before this second chance at life. Before the power, the scales, the crown. Just a regular guy, desperate and broken, trying to survive in a world that didn’t give a damn.
I leaned back against the wall, letting my head thud softly against the cold stone.
The humiliation came rushing back like a slap to the face. The lady who ran that godforsaken club, her sharp eyes raking over me like I was a piece of meat. Her smile was sweet, almost kind, but it hid something rotten underneath.
“Training,” she’d called it. What a joke. I’d been nothing more than her plaything, her project. She’d torn me apart piece by piece, stripping away every shred of self-esteem until there was nothing left but a man willing to do anything—anything—to survive.
And I had. God, I had endured it all. Every touch, every smirk, every degrading word. Because I had no choice. Because survival was the only thing that mattered back then.
‘I hated her,’ I cursed internally. I hated her so much it burned. But I’d also learned something from her, something I didn’t want to admit.
I’d learned how to wield power—not the physical kind, but the power that came from understanding people, from knowing what they wanted and how to use it against them. And as much as I swore I’d never be like her, never stoop to her level… life had a funny way of making me eat my own words.
Here I was now, the Dragon King, doing the very same thing to Glasha. Forcing her into a situation she hadn’t chosen, pushing her to bend to my will because I thought it was the only way.
‘Ironic, isn’t it?’ I thought, a humorless laugh escaping my lips.
Shaking my head, I pushed off the wall and started walking. The corridor stretched out before me, its endless arches and marble tiles feeling heavier than usual. I wasn’t sure where I was going at first, but my feet seemed to know.
My chamber. That’s where I needed to be. I’d promised the others I’d take a break, and I wasn’t about to break my word.
Still, as I passed the door to my office, the temptation was there. A quick peek, that’s all I wanted. Just to see if the Snow Elf Queen’s invitation had arrived yet. It wasn’t like I’d be working, not really. But no, I kept walking.
“Later,” I told myself firmly, though the thought lingered like an itch I couldn’t quite scratch.
By the time I reached my chamber, I was already shrugging off my blazer. The fabric felt heavier than it should. My boots came off next, thudding softly against the floor. I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my shirt, letting out a sigh of relief as I sank onto the bed.
The mattress welcomed me like an old friend, soft and forgiving. I stared up at the ceiling, the ornate carvings blurring together as my mind wandered.
“To be king,” I muttered, “is so damn tiring.”
“You’re not wrong.”
I jolted upright, my heart hammering in my chest as I searched for the source of the voice. Marissa stood in the doorway, her arms crossed and a knowing smirk playing on her lips.
“Gods,” I breathed, running a hand through my hair. “Do you have to sneak up on me like that?”
She shrugged, stepping further into the room. “You left your door open. That’s practically an invitation.”
“For you, maybe.” I sank back onto the bed, throwing an arm over my eyes. “What do you want, Marissa?”
I heard the soft shuffle of her feet against the floor, the creak of the mattress as she sat down beside me. Marissa didn’t usually make herself at home like this—she wasn’t the type to linger or fuss. She preferred to keep her distance, offering her thoughts with that sharp tongue of hers only when she thought it necessary. So yeah, her being here? Unusual.
“I just want to check on you, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice calm and cool like it always was, but there was this… edge to it. Something softer.
I peeked out from under my arm, catching the faint curve of her lips as she glanced down at me. “Checking on me? That’s fancy.”
She tilted her head, her long, brown hair cascading over one shoulder like a damn waterfall. Her nymph features were as perfect and composed as ever, not a single strand out of place, not a single emotion she didn’t want me to see.
“I saw you come out of Glasha’s room,” she said matter-of-factly. “You looked… off.”
I laughed under my breath, not because it was funny, but because it was the easiest way to dodge her words. “Just a lot on my mind. Usual stuff.”
“Usual stuff,” she echoed, her tone dripping with skepticism. Before I could say anything else, she reached over and flicked a strand of my hair. Her cool fingers brushed against one of my horns in the process before I could stop it.
“Really?” she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly, her lips quirking up into a small, knowing smirk. “Maybe I can help?”
I moved my arm off my face and propped myself up on my elbows, giving her a look. “Help? With what, exactly? My existential crisis? Or are you offering to handle my inbox?”
