Forced to become a delicate companion of a paranoid lord

After opening the letter delivered by his familiar, Raymond glanced at it and then peeked his head into the bed curtains, whispering, "Irelia, Marcela asked when we're going back. This is the seventh letter already."

After delivering the message, Raymond's gaze shifted downwards, and he saw Irelia's younger brother nestled comfortably in Irelia's arms with a smile on his lips and a relaxed expression. He muttered something unpleasantly.

“Irelia, your brother already has a partner. He should be the one to put him to sleep…”

Raymond was halfway through his complaint when he suddenly sensed a familiar fluctuation of magical elements. So he immediately changed his tune, saying, "I just beat up Thrall in the arena for four hours. He's probably in so much pain he won't be able to sleep. Brother, you should sleep with Yrel."

When Raymond mentioned the training ground, Irele reached out and pulled the blanket over Shevi's ears, then gently patted her brother's back with her other hand. Seeing that the person in her arms showed no signs of waking up, she freed up her eyes to signal Raymond to be quiet.

Raymond obediently shut his mouth, then pointed to his tattered clothes and the finger-length wound on his face, and began to gesture wildly.

Raymond gestured for a long time, and after Irele patiently watched it all, she understood that he was complaining to her.

During the training ground, the Lord of the Snowfield didn't dare to fight back much, but when Raymond attacked without restraint, the protective gear worn by the Lord of the Snowfield was triggered. If Raymond hadn't reacted quickly and dodged out of the attack range in time, his head might have been sliced ​​into several pieces by that strange light.

Seeing this, Irelia sighed helplessly, then beckoned Raymond to come closer.

Raymond braced himself on the edge of the bed with one hand, bringing his head close to Irelia's face, staring at her with shining eyes, just like when he was a child.

In Raymond's mind, Yrel was the most dazzling and perfect human he had ever seen. Dragons are naturally drawn to dazzling things, so Yrel was always attracting his attention.

Silvery-white magical elements condensed at Yrel's fingertips, and as Yrel gently brushed her fingers across Raymond's cheek, the finger-length wound slowly healed.

Irelia also has the protective gear that Raymond described. It was made by Shevy himself. This protective gear is a little different from the protective gear of the past. Traditional protective gear only has the function of protection, but the protective gear made by Shevy not only has the function of protection, but can also attack the enemy while activating protection after the wearer has suffered a certain degree of damage.

To be honest, Irele felt a little jealous. He originally thought that this protective gear was specially made for him by his younger brother, but he didn't expect that it wasn't the only one.

"You like him that much? Even though he made you cry so much, you still like him so much, cherish him, and always give him the best of everything first... What are you going to do? Your brother can't even secretly get revenge for you anymore..."

Raymond squatted by the bed. He watched Irelia mutter to herself for a while, then pressed his forehead against Shevy's forehead as he had done the previous nights. After hesitating for a moment, he finally spoke.

“Iriel, you already know everything you want to know. Don’t try to extract his memories anymore. Memories are things that happened in the past, and there’s no way to change them. They will only cause you pain. Your brother is fine now. He’s safe here. You can do whatever you want without worry. I know the Lord of the Snowfield bullied your brother, and that makes you very angry. I’ve been thinking about it, and I can actually come to the Far North Territory every seven days and beat up the Lord of the Snowfield.”

Irelia remained silent for a long time, her forehead pressed against her brother's, until Raymond tried to suggest beating up the Lord of the Snowfield every three days.

The person on the bed suddenly stood silently beside him and patted his head.

“That’s a good idea, Raymond.”

The long-haired young man in a long bathrobe bent down to pull the blanket up for his younger brother, then lowered the bed curtains and turned to walk out of the bedroom.