[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-saya-and-the-dragon":3,"chapter-saya-and-the-dragon-saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-217":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},1705026,2177,"Chapter 210: He Forgot Again","saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-217",217,"\u003Cp>Pre-dawn is that ugly grey space where nothing has decided what it is yet. Not night. Not morning. Just a chill, damp breath over the world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And I bolt upright like someone poured ice water straight down my spine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Heart pounding. Breath ragged. Panic already clawing its way up my throat before I’m even properly conscious.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh no. Oh no no no—shit!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The camp is still. Grass beaded with dew. Bushes barely whispering. Everything quiet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Except my brain, which is screaming.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I forgot,” I gasp. “I forgot! The ultimatum! The stupid ghost ultimatum!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beside me, an enormous mound of scales and arrogance shifts. A single golden eye cracks open. He blinks at me like I’m an inconvenient cloud.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What,” Dragon mutters, voice flat as stone, “is wrong now.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I’m already gesticulating wildly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ghost Uncle!” I hiss. “The twelve moons! The whole ‘prove your worth or I drag you into the spirit realm and peel your soul like an onion’ thing! Remember!? Big speech! Lots of echoing! Trembling earth! Family drama!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Dragon stares at me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then he yawns.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My eye twitches.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I LOST COUNT OF THE DAYS!” I shriek. “When is it!? How much time do we have!? DO WE HAVE ANY!?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He thinks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He blinks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He shrugs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“It was about ten days ago.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The silence that follows is so loud it hurts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I slowly, carefully, deliberately stand up, hands shaking, hair wild, voice climbing toward murder.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“WHAT DO YOU MEAN TEN DAYS AGO!?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gives a lazy flick of his tail.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I mean,” he says conversationally, “the deadline already passed and I am evidently still here.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I stare at him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My brain summons vivid images: spectral chains. Screaming winds. My Dragon dragged through the sky while bellowing indignantly. The afterlife filled with disappointed relatives judging us forever. I grab his face between both hands and shake him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“YOU SHOULD BE DEAD. OR CURSED. OR—OR HAUNTED. OR IN GHOST JAIL!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He pries a horn free of my grip.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I am not.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He PROMISED!” I insist. “He literally promised to rip you out of this world if you didn’t ‘prove your dignity as a worthy companion of his noble bloodline’! That sounded very follow-throughy!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes,” Dragon says dryly. “He makes those speeches often.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I blink.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Often?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Frequently.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“…and!?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He exhales.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And then he forgets.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I freeze.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Forget… forgets what?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The whole thing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I gape at him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’re telling me,” I say slowly, voice flat with disbelief, “that the mighty ancestral terror… the towering undead patriarch… the spectral judge of our fates… the ancient roaring guardian of honor…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“…is just a dramatic old corpse who throws tantrums and then gets distracted?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My jaw opens.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Closes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Opens again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You— you can’t be serious.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He rolls onto his back, wings flopping uselessly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He once declared a three-century vendetta because someone touched his favorite shrine urn,” Dragon continues lazily. “Ranted for hours. Promised storms of vengeance. Swore doom on the entire valley.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“And?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He forgot by the next full moon and started lecturing us about table etiquette.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I just stare at him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then I flop backward onto my blanket and cover my face with a groan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I hate your family.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He hums.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So do I.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There’s a long breath. My panic slowly drains out through the soles of my feet. My heartbeat stops trying to tunnel out of my chest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then suspicion creeps back in.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“…are you sure?” I ask, peeking between my fingers. “Truly? Not ‘dragon confident’—as in very sure about absolutely nothing?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If he remembered,” Dragon says reasonably, “I would currently be howling in spectral torment while he monologues. I am not. Therefore, he does not.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I exhale.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The soft grey world settles again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Silence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“…you could’ve mentioned this earlier,” I mutter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He shrugs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I forgot.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>We lock eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I stare at him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Wait—so what now? That’s it? The whole ‘you are unworthy of your lineage, cast into eternal shame, flayed in spectral fire’ thing just… gets forgotten?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He sighs. A long, slow, I-hate-this-conversation sigh.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh no. Not even close.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My stomach drops.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Explain.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“The old bastard forgets,” the Dragon says wearily, “but never forever. Sooner or later—week, moon, century—he’ll remember. He always does.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I squint at him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s deranged.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“That’s weaponized senility.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He exhales smoke from one nostril like a dying incense burner. “He once forgot that he excommunicated my sister and then sent her a congratulatory letter for her mating season. She sent back his own femur.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I blink.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Your family makes mine look positively balanced.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gives me a sidelong glance. “Your family sold you for temple credit and a box of dates.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Still less drama.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Dragon stretches his wings just enough to rustle the grass, then tucks them back under with a sigh like stone slabs grinding together.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He’ll remember. And when he does, we’ll get the whole speech again. The dignity. The bloodline. The failure. The shame. His spectral eczema. I’ll be declared a disgrace to scaled kind and threatened with obliteration via ghost fire and ceremonial antlers.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I rub my temples. “And you’re just… okay with this recurring emotional terrorism?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Not particularly,” he says. “But it’s less exhausting than arguing.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I groan and flop back onto my blanket, hair splaying out like a bad omen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So we’re just waiting for the next divine tantrum?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I turn my head toward him, deadpan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Tell me again why I didn't just stay in that forest cult with the endless foot rubs and nipple piercings?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He hums thoughtfully. “Because they tried to eat a merchant.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh. Right.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Silence stretches out between us again. The pre-dawn chill curls around my ankles like a judgemental cat.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Finally, I mutter, “We need a better plan than just wait for undead dad to forget again.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I agree.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“…and?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I suggest bribes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I sit up. “Bribes? You want to bribe your own ghost uncle?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He looks vaguely insulted. “It worked on Aunt Threxaval.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“She accepted a teacup.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“She was a woman of culture.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He is a floating sack of bones and vengeance.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Still has a weakness for vintage brocade and choral arrangements,” the Dragon mutters, mostly to himself.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I stare at him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“We’re going to die,” I declare.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He shrugs. “Eventually.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I flop back down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I hate your family.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So do I.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Pause.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“…but I do have a lovely antique scarf in the loot sack.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He opens one eye. “Gold-threaded?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Peacock pattern. Stolen from a bishop.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hmm. That might buy us a week.”\u003C\u002Fp>",1072,"2026-06-06T14:39:25.900Z",1,"novelbin.me","5c702af77a09b0652d79bf55f30e8a085dbfc4c2797463f34c038bab833a43ff","saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-218","saya-and-the-dragon-chapter-216",228,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fsaya-and-the-dragon-cover.jpg"]