[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-saya-and-the-dragon":3,"chapter-saya-and-the-dragon-saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-130":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","Saya and the Dragon",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},1705117,2177,"Chapter 125: Sniffles","saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-130",130,"\u003Cp>I am wrapped in three blankets like a sad overcooked dumpling and still shivering. My nose is leaking. My ass is frozen. There’s moss in places moss shouldnotbe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>We found shelter under a lopsided dolmen, half-collapsed and fully useless. Probably built by some prehistoric idiot who thought stacking rocks was architecture. I sneeze so hard I see stars. Again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Dragon, smug bastard that he is, hands me a steaming cup of tea with the smugness of a thousand-year-old nanny offering herbal regret. “I don’t understand,” he says, “what exactly possessed you to dive naked into a glacier-fed lake in early spring?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I blow my nose into a wool scarf Iheroically liberatedfrom a very startled marmot-hunting hermit. “It was sunny,” I mutter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sunny,” he repeats, as if sunlight cancels hypothermia.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And the lake was pretty. Andrefreshing.And I was wearing fur boots and a wool tunic and I smelled like campfire and regret.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He arches one brow ridge like he’s trying to crack his own skull in disdain. “So obviously, stripping down and hurling yourself into snowmelt was the answer.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I needed tofeel alive,” I snarl into my scarf.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You needed a bath, not a near-death experience.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I wrap the blankets tighter and glare at the fire like it owes me money. “I feltjoy,” I grumble. “For like twelve seconds. Before my nipples froze solid and I swallowed a water beetle.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He sips his tea and snorts. “Twelve seconds of joy, followed by three days of fever, convulsions, and snoring like a drunken badger.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I take the cup to my lips and whisper, “Worth it.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then immediately burn my tongue and whimper like a kicked duckling.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He doesn’t even laugh. Just watches me with that smug, ancient face like he saw it coming from themomentI took off the damn lynx-tooth necklace.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I sneeze again. Loud. Wet. Tragic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He flares his nostrils and exhales, voice flat with theatrical disappointment. “No more skinny-dipping in mountain runoff. Not until summer. Or ever.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I bury my face in the blankets and groan. “I’ll die of boredom.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’ll die of pneumonia first,” he snaps, tail twitching like he wants to slap some sense into me. “Also. You need to start wearingactualclothes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I mumble something obscene into the rim of my cup.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No more spontaneous nudity. No more cult-girl peplos with nothing underneath. No more strappy tunics when there’s snow on the ground.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I cough for sympathy and sniff. “I’m not dressing like a librarian.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He narrows his eyes. “The Month of Mukthaw is not the time for bare thighs and lynx-tooth necklaces.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I mutter, “It’salwaystime for bare thighs…” then sneeze so hard the tea sloshes and scalds my leg.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He doesn’t flinch. “You deserve that.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m allergic to shame,” I croak.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’re allergic to insulation.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Same thing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He turns back to the fire like he’s choosing patience over violence, muttering something about “brainless nymphs” and “aquatic death wishes” and “crotch frostbite in high-altitude idiots.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I watch him, all hunched and cranky and warm and unfairly smug, his silhouette flickering in the firelight while my toes finally start remembering what being alive feels like.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He cares. That’s the damn problem.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He cares, and it makes everything harder.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I sneeze again and yell, “That’s not a sign! Stop pretending that’s a sign!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From the front of the dolmen, he sighs. “Itisa sign. A sign that you should stop bathing in meltwater and start wearing undergarments.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Undergarments ruin the silhouette,” I croak.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Saya, you went swimming wearing only a necklace.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It was ceremonial.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It wasderanged.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I flip him off with the hand not currently occupied by tea. “I looked like a pagan huntress queen.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You looked like a fever dream.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Well,” I grumble, sinking deeper into my cocoon of shame and damp wool, “maybe next time nature can justnotseduce me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He glances over his shoulder, all golden eyes and sarcastic judgment. “You got seduced by alake.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“…it was very convincing water.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And now I’m dying in a rock hole.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Blanket burrito of plague and poor choices.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Perfect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Without a word, he coils his tail around me like a giant smug heat snake. I don’t fight it. I never do. It’s warm, and solid, and smells like ash and scales and burnt pride. Like safety I never admit to wanting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Drink up,” he says, still facing the fire. His voice is gentler now. “I’ll make soup later.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I blink. “You hate soup.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I do,” he says. “But you don’t. And since you insist on skinny-dipping in death traps, we’re doing soup.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I sip the tea.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It still tastes like moss and boiled bark, but I don’t complain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Real soup?” I ask. “Not squirrel broth or buzzard stew?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He exhales through his nose. “Real soup. Chicken. With dumplings.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I almost smile. “You’re getting alarmingly domestic.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He grumbles, tail tightening around me. “And you’re getting alarmingly feral.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m a free spirit.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’re a respiratory hazard.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Flattery will get you everywhere.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And blankets are cheaper than resurrection spells.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steam curls around my face. Rain drums the hills beyond. His tail holds me still.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maybe I won’t die after all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maybe next time, I’ll just splash my feet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>(Maybe not.)\u003C\u002Fp>",856,"2026-06-06T14:39:25.900Z",1,"novelbin.me","a1297078908735ac7afc725f1b7d07a00087ce04e9f0c1abb4d81430854c4a07","saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-131","saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-129",228,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fsaya-and-the-dragon-cover.jpg"]