Stepping down from the carriage, my head was still spinning. I wanted nothing more than to wash away the grime of the road and collapse into bed, but the lingering nausea of motion sickness refused to fade. I stared at the ceiling, wondering how I was supposed to drift off like this, when the click of the latch echoed through the room.
The door creaked open, and a familiar, warm silhouette stepped into the candlelight.
"Lucy, my little star," Layla murmured, her voice like silk. "You're still not asleep?"
I gave her a weak, sheepish grin. "I'm having a really hard time settling down, Mama."
"Well then," she said, sitting on the edge of the mattress and smoothing the blankets. "How about a bedtime story?"
My eyes lit up, the nausea momentarily forgotten. "A story? Tell me, Mama! Quickly!"
Layla let out a soft laugh, her hand resting gently on my forehead. "Okay, okay, slow down. This story is about a hero who protected a village from a terrible, evil dragon."
"An evil dragon?" I whispered, pulling the covers up to my chin.
"Yes, Lucy. Long ago, a traveler arrived in a small, quiet village. He was a muscular young man, with long, dark-blue hair and skin the color of deep earth."
I tilted my head, imagining the figure. "He sounds... kind of cool."
"You think so? Ufufu~" Layla giggled before her expression turned serious. "Let's continue. While he was staying there, a dragon suddenly descended upon the village. Its entire body was covered in thick, swirl-patterned scales—a defense so powerful no blade could pierce it. It even possessed dark magic to summon swarms of evil minions."
"Ugh, he sounds like a final boss!" I huffed, punching the air. "He has to be eliminated!"
"He was certainly a formidable foe," Layla agreed. "He was the perfect balance of offense and defense. The villagers were terrified, scattering in the streets as the dragon began its slaughter. But in the midst of the crisis, the traveler stood his ground. While the local mages found their spells bouncing off the dragon's scales, the traveler's strikes actually drew blood."
I blinked, my heart racing. "Did he have special magic to hurt a dragon, Mama?"
"He did, my little star," she whispered. "That magic is called Dragon Slayer Magic."
I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. Dragon Slayer Magic? I forced my expression to remain neutral, playing the part of the innocent child so she wouldn't grow suspicious of what I already knew. "Dragon Slayer Magic?"
"Yes. It is a magic rumored to be the only thing capable of truly fighting a dragon."
As she spoke, a hunch began to form in the back of my mind. I combed through my memories of the Dragon Slayers I had met in my past life, trying to piece the description together—and secretly hoping I was wrong.
"The traveler fought the dragon and its minions alone," Layla continued. "When the beast finally fell, the village was saved. The people flocked to him, weeping with gratitude, but the man only looked at them coldly. He told them it was simply his job to slay dragons... because all dragons are evil."
She paused, a thoughtful look in her eyes. "The villagers were stunned for a moment, but they accepted it. If a man that powerful said it, it had to be true. When they asked for his name so they could honor his deed, he told them he didn't remember it—and told them not to pry."
"He didn't remember his name?" I repeated.
"No. He vanished into the horizon shortly after and was never seen again. To honor him, the villagers wrote a legend about the 'Amnesiac Hero'—the man who forgot himself to save others."
I stared at the wall, my mind racing. "A hero who forgot his own name..."
"That's right, Lucy. Even if he fought for his own reasons, it's a fact that he saved those people."
Layla kissed my forehead and tucked me in, but as she left the room, my mind was anything but quiet.
A Dragon Slayer who can't remember who he is... I thought, a cold sweat breaking out. Don't tell me it's him. I'll have to ask Rolotia tomorrow. I need to know if my hunch is true.