Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I'm Stuck as Their Baby!-Chapter 120: Dragons, Debts, and Divine Disbelief

I loved my siblings. I did.

But I also firmly believed that there was a special place in the deepest, most echoing corner of the underworld for people who burst into your room after you'd barely survived a kidnapping, shouted about weddings, and jumped on your bed like tiny gremlins made of sugar and secrets.

Aeris had a voice like a silver bell that had been enchanted to cause migraines, and Arion had somehow managed to get glitter in my sheets. Glitter. In my sanctuary.

"I'm going to count to three," I said flatly, standing in my doorway in my nightgown like a very tired, very unamused warden of doom. "And if you two aren't out of my room by the time I reach one, I will personally rearrange the stars to ensure your bedtime begins at noon for the next year."

Aeris gasped. "That's illegal."

"One," I said, unimpressed.

Arion yelped and grabbed his sister's arm. "Abort! Retreat!"

They fled like rats from a sinking ship, their laughter trailing behind them as they vanished down the hall, Aeris shouting something about designing flower crowns. I slammed the door with a theatrical sigh and leaned back against it, feeling far older than eight years.

"Peace," I muttered. "At last."

I turned and dragged myself toward the bed, a massive, plush thing buried in blankets and embroidered pillows. I climbed into the middle of it and flopped dramatically, staring up at the high ceiling painted with constellations.

For the first time since the attack, the silence felt heavier than before no servants fussing, no parents hovering, no medical spells humming gently in the background.

Just me.

And, of course, the only entity I couldn't run away from.

[You know,] the system murmured with its usual brand of smug aloofness, [for someone who just got showered in sibling affection and probably enough grape-related gossip to cause a diplomatic scandal, you still manage to look like you've bitten into a lemon.]

"I'm tired," I said aloud, not caring if someone overheard. "Emotionally. Physically. Psychologically. Also my hair is probably sentient now."

[Yes, well. Being kidnapped tends to take the shine off one's week.]

I exhaled slowly, curling onto my side beneath the thick velvet blanket. "Tell me what I want to know."

[Be more specific, darling. I'm not a genie. I'm an incredibly underpaid metaphysical assistant with a sarcastic disposition and a side hustle in existential crisis management.]

I snorted. "Who were they?"

[The kidnappers?]

"Yes."

There was a pause.

[That's going to cost you.]

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

[Information isn't free, sweetheart. Not anymore. You want intel, I want compensation.]

"You're my system."

[I'm also an independent entity with mouths to feed.]

"You don't even have a mouth."

[Metaphorical mouths. It's metaphorical capitalism. Don't question it. I've got a family to support.]

I groaned and buried my face in the pillow. "You don't have a family."

[How do you know that?]

"I just do!"

[Look, do you want to know who those edgy, morally bankrupt weirdos were or not? Because I'm compiling data, cross-referencing magical energy signatures, and using forbidden processing power from the Dreamscape of Denied Cookies to get you answers. That doesn't come cheap.]

I growled into the pillow. "Fine. How much?"

[A smile. And the promise of cake. Eventually.]

I blinked, slowly lifting my face. "…Are you okay?"

[No. You let bandits stab you. I'm traumatized. Cake helps.]

Despite everything, I laughed. Really laughed. A broken, tired little sound—but real.

"Okay, cake," I whispered. "I'll get you cake."

[Now that's a tyrant with priorities.]

Silence settled again, this time companionable. I pressed my cheek into the cool linen, letting my breath even out, eyes half-lidded as exhaustion crept back in.

"System?" I murmured.

[Yes?]

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

"Is Riven okay? And Aria?"

The voice was gentler this time. [Riven's resting. Aria's still unconscious, but the healers say she'll recover. Neither of them would leave until you were found.]

My chest squeezed tightly. "Good."

[They missed you.]

"I missed them too."

And then the door creaked open.

I sat up so fast I nearly headbutted my headboard. "Aeris, I swear to every god in this plane and the next—"

But it wasn't Aeris.

It was Smaug.

The enormous dragon waddled through the door, eyes shining with tears—actual tears—wings tucked in close to his massive body. His claws clicked awkwardly against the floor as he approached, trembling slightly, and for one terrifying moment, I thought he was about to sneeze fire on my carpet.

Instead, he threw himself at me.

"OH NO," I shrieked, flailing as I was suddenly engulfed by a wall of dragon.

Smaug curled around me like an overgrown cat with identity issues, his huge scaly head pressed to my shoulder, his body shuddering with the sheer force of his sobs.

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE GONE FOREVER," he wailed, hot dragon breath nearly melting my eyebrows. "I ALMOST BURNT DOWN AN ORPHANAGE."

"What why would you burn down an orphanage?"

"I PANICKED!"

"Smaug—Smaug, you're crushing my ribcage—"

He sniffled. "I missed you."

My arms slowly lifted, trembling, and then I did something I had never imagined doing in my life.

I hugged a crying dragon.

"It's okay," I murmured awkwardly, patting his scales. "I'm here."

He sobbed louder.

[Aw,] the system cooed in my head. [You broke the lizard.]

"I didn't mean to!"

[I mean emotionally. He's bonded to you, dummy. Dragons don't do well with grief.]

Smaug hiccupped, lifting his huge head to gaze at me with those ridiculous molten-gold eyes. "If anyone hurts you again, I will bite their souls."

"…Thanks?"

He nodded solemnly. "Also I chewed on your brother's sword. I was upset."

"…Aeris's or Arion's?"

"Yes."

I sighed and leaned back into the pillows, Smaug curling protectively around me like a massive, scaly blanket. My entire bed dipped under his weight, the sheets now filled with talons, tail, and way too much fire-breathing lizard for comfort.

"Smaug," I mumbled, half-buried in his warm scales, "you're huge."

"I missed you," he murmured, voice still thick with dragon-sobs. "I needed to expand emotionally."

"No, I mean literally huge." I squinted at the towering arch of his wings, the way his claws were now as long as my arm. "My bed used to fit me, not a magical reptilian siege engine."

He sniffled. "I had a growth spurt."

"You're a magical dragon," I said flatly. "You don't get puberty. You get parentally adjusted magical containment spells. You were the size of a housecat last week."

"…They wore off."

I blinked. "They wore off?"

He didn't meet my eyes. "Maybe I chewed through the runes on purpose. Maybe I wanted to be big enough to scorch everyone who hurt you."

"Oh my gods," I muttered, covering my face. "You weaponized your puberty."

"I'm majestic now," he huffed proudly, puffing out his chest and instantly knocking over my bedside table. A pitcher of enchanted water exploded against the floor with a mournful sploosh.

"Majestic," I repeated, deadpan. "You just destroyed my lavender-scented hydration station."

Smaug gave me his best innocent look, which on a dragon involved slightly less snarling. "I'll replace it. With gold."

"You can't drink gold, Smaug."

"You can if you're emotionally compromised!"

I groaned and flopped back into the pillows, which now smelled faintly of sulfur and aggressive self-esteem.

"You are not staying this size," I muttered.

He curled tighter around me, eyes glowing faintly in the dim room. "Try and stop me."

"Smaug—"

"I am your emotional support apocalypse, and I have needs."

I was too tired to argue. So I just let him stay tail knocking over another chair and decided, miserably, to let Future Me deal with re-negotiating his magical leash.