I ordered a mini-dragon online to cure my anxiety.
This ain't that. He's not small, he's not tame, he's pure rage.
Three hundred years old. King of the Northern Dragon Realm.
Now he's trapped in my apartment by a magic collar—neither of us can break it.
He swears he'll kill me the moment the contract ends.
Yet every night, he curls up asleep at my bedroom door.
Something's wrong. I started digging into why he was shipped to me.
The truth is way darker. This was planned.
Someone wanted the Dragon King powerless. And now that someone knows his only weakness.
