Home/The very suspicious chick of the Blue Dragon clan/ch 1

Chapter 1

On a spring day, at the Blue Dragon Palace.

In the center of Cheongyeonji, the Pond of Life that ran through the main palace, a lotus leaf larger than a cauldron lid stood tall and upright.

Yet the small, white egg resting atop it remained still today, showing no sign of hatching.

Cheongun, the head of the household, tilted his head as he gazed at the egg sitting all alone.

“When will the youngest hatch…?”

At that, a rare crease formed at the corners of Cheongun’s eyes. For the first time, time seemed to settle upon the face of a beauty whose age had been impossible to discern.

His trusted retainer, Seong Huirim, answered cautiously.

“Have you not already been blessed with the adorable twin young masters? Please do not grieve too much.”

The twins from the same nest had been born a week ago, so it was difficult to hold out much hope for the remaining egg.

“Mm. I’m not sad at all.”

Huirim did not believe his master’s calm reply. It was clearly a blatant lie.

Huirim had misunderstood quite resolutely, but Cheongun truly was not sad. Why?

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump! Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump!

Because Cheongun’s ears could clearly hear the impatient heartbeat pounding from within the egg.

Cheongun, who possessed two supernatural abilities and was thus called the incarnation of the Blue Dragon God.

Born with the power to command wind and rain, he had gained hearing as sharp as an owl’s after becoming the household head.

Cheongun’s blue hair swayed and scattered in the breeze.

For a brief moment, his light earth-colored pupils flashed vertically, elongating.

Then, with a soft rustle, a strand of spring wind crossed the railing, skimmed over the pond, and settled upon the lotus leaf.

Yet even when coaxed and soothed by the wind, the egg remained unmoved…

Suddenly, a crimson blaze erupted in Cheongun’s vision, and he saw the small egg crack open with a sharp pop.

“Hah.”

He gasped in surprise, but in the next instant, what appeared before his eyes was merely the usual sight of Cheongyeonji and the flawless little egg.

“My lord…?”

Huirim asked, flustered, but Cheongun only smiled faintly, as if he had realized something.

The truth was, Cheongun had a secret known only to his late wife.

Sometimes, the wind would bestow upon him glimpses of the future. His third supernatural ability, unknown to the world—future sight.

Cheongun gave an order to Huirim, who stared back in bewilderment.

“Fetch the youngest.”

“Excuse me…?”

Cheongun’s long, pale finger pointed straight at the lotus leaf.

“The youngest.”

He looked back at his bewildered retainer as if pitying his lack of comprehension.

“Bring it here.”

---

A short while later, in the kitchen of the Blue Dragon Palace.

In the blazing fire pit, instead of a cauldron, a small white egg lay atop the flames.

Huirim watched the egg engulfed in fire, writhing as though his own flesh were burning.

“My lord, I believe I misspoke earlier. Although the youngest may be a bit slow, might it not hatch if we wait a little longer? Don’t you agree, Head Cook?”

But despite his earnest plea, no answer came.

The head cook had been struck dumb by the sight of the Blue Dragon’s egg occupying his cooking fire, and the master himself seemed to have lost his wits ever since losing his wife.

If so, now was the time for Huirim, as the trusted retainer, to risk his life and prevent his lord’s atrocity.

“My lord…!”

With great resolve, Huirim stepped in front of the fire pit.

Crack.

At the ominous sound from behind him, his face crumpled in despair.

“A—a poker! Someone hand me a poker! Oh, the egg is spoiling, my lord…! Our, our Blue Dragon infant…! If it cooks through…!”

Crunch!

“Ah, our little one…! What will you do if it ends up half-boiled…!”

Tears streaming down his face, Huirim began searching for a poker himself.

But when he finally grabbed one and turned around, the egg in the fire had already split in half, and…

“Hic!”

Something inside was protruding a head the size of a dragon’s claw.

“Wh—what is that…?”

While Huirim rubbed his eyes, Cheongun gently sprinkled sand over the fire to quell the flames.

Then, he lifted the still-intact half of the eggshell, fully revealing the young life hidden within.

Its legs were pathetically thin…

“F—feathers? It has feathers?”

Huirim rubbed his eyes again as he stared at the creature that looked like a newborn chick.

“Our youngest, you’re late, aren’t you?”

Cheongun smiled fondly.

If Huirim had been an ordinary man untrained in martial arts, he would have fainted on the spot from the shock of his master’s tranquil voice.

“M—my lord…”

---

Regardless, Aran, having returned to the mortal world as a newborn chick, tilted her head in confusion.

“Pip?”

(Who are you bluish lot!)

“Puu…”

(It’s so cold. Another blasted winter the moment I arrive?)

“Cheep!”

(Wait, this form looks just like me when I was young. Don’t tell me this body has been reborn again?)

No!

That bastard Black Tortoise god—he dared to swindle a virtuous Vermilion Bird beastman after becoming a deity?! I said I would ascend, not be reborn!

“Peep!”

(Hey, you lot! Tell me who the emperor is right now! Surely I haven’t been sent back to a hundred years ago, when I was first born?)

“Peep-peeep!”

*(This is absurd! It’s a total scam—!) *

While Aran was venting her grievances, a careful hand gently scooped her up and placed her onto a large palm.

Aran, who had been shivering ever since the fire was extinguished, instinctively rubbed her face against the warmth radiating from the palm. It was warm.

“Puu…”

(What a degenerate age, for this body to become an infant again…)

Whether fortunate or not, Aran’s words were in beast-speech, so no one here could understand her.

Unaware that within the white fluff of a newborn chick lay a hundred-year-old Vermilion Bird, Cheongun drew his palm close to his body and examined the little one.

“Good heavens, look at those legs. So slender.”

Whatever Cheongun said, Aran was cold.

Amidst the raw chill she hadn’t felt in ages, she barely managed to recall that she was the great Vermilion Bird.

Yes, once great, the Vermilion Bird remains great even when reborn.

As a great Vermilion Bird, Aran tried to generate heat to dry her damp feathers.

…But then.

Tremble-

The downy fluff, not yet grown into feathers, puffed up slightly, then whoosh—settled back down as if nothing had happened.

Still, it had an effect in another way.

“She—she seems to be shivering, doesn’t she?”

Huirim, who had been standing dazed, accurately assessed Aran’s condition.

“Is she cold? Oh dear, it must be because she has no hard scales.”

Thanks to that, Cheongun covered Aran’s body with his remaining hand.

As the thick palm of the Blue Dragon enclosed her from all sides, the tension drained from the small body, and she relaxed.

“Pii…”

(For a dragon, you’re quite warm. Though now is not the time for me to be…)

And so, leaving behind a compliment no one could understand, Aran nodded off back to sleep.

After a while, Cheongun cautiously parted his hands, which had been closed as tightly as a cauldron lid.

The white-fluffed chick lay curled up on his palm, fast asleep.

Oblivious to the fact that she had been born in another’s nest, her round belly rose and fell defenselessly with each soft breath.

Unable to tear his gaze away, Cheongun murmured quietly.

“Huirim, are Vermilion Birds always this adorable?”

Huirim, who had been fidgeting nearby, blinked at his master’s question.

“Pardon?”

He knew all too many Vermilion Bird beastmen whose very appearances were repulsive, making it hard to agree.

But that wasn’t the only issue.

“A Vermilion Bird? My lord, surely you don’t think this chick is a Vermilion Bird?”

Cheongun, as if not seeing Huirim’s shock at all, calmly retorted.

“Then what is it? It was born from fire.”

Of course, Huirim found his lord’s conviction absurd.

What else? Just a bird.

No matter how it had awakened from fire, to Huirim’s eyes, it was simply a bird.

A Vermilion Bird beastman would bear distinct markings, but this chick was pure white.

And the eyes glimpsed briefly were not red, but pitch-black.

Still, hesitating to outright refute his lord’s words, Huirim faltered—when Cheongun began to gently shake the palm holding the chick.

Tumble, tumble-roll.

What a carefree little thing.

The sleeping chick rolled this way and that across his palm with each shake, until with a rolly-roll—

It finally tumbled right into the Blue Dragon’s embrace.

Oh, heavens.

Watching his lord’s long eyes widen with delight, Huirim felt his own heart plummet as well.

It’s over, it’s all over…!

My lord is truly going to make that bird his youngest child.

Oh, Blue Dragon God, why do you afflict me with such trials…!

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