Dragon King's Harem Chapter 427. Not A God

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 427. Not A God

I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head. “No, Glasha. I’m not a god. I bleed. I get tired. I make mistakes. Gods are untouchable.” I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly. “I’m very much touchable—people just haven’t been able to kill me yet.”

Glasha didn’t look impressed. She crossed her arms, her sharp gaze locked onto mine. “You act like a god,” she pointed out. “You dictate the course of this world. You decide which tribes thrive and which ones fall. That’s not something an ordinary king does.”

I tilted my head slightly, studying her. “You’re right,” I admitted. “But I’m not a god. I’m Igixar’s protector. I’m this world’s protector.” I held her gaze, my voice steady. “And I have to fulfill my role, whether I like it or not.”

Glasha’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t speak. She was listening. Actually listening. That didn’t happen often.

“If I could sit back and enjoy my peaceful days as a king, ruling only my empire, spending more time with my wives, living a life of luxury… I would be very happy.” I let out a slow breath, my fingers tapping against my desk. “But I can’t.”

Glasha’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but she still didn’t speak.

“If a tribe tries to throw this world’s balance off,” I continued, “the first one they attack is my tribe. The first one they kill is me. And what happens after that?” I leaned forward, my voice dropping lower. “Chaos. Wars. Territory disputes. The strong devouring the weak. That’s what happens if I disappear.”

She frowned slightly, but I saw the understanding behind her eyes.

“So what should I do?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Sit back and wait for the problems to reach my doorstep? No.” I shook my head. “I fix the problem before it gets bigger.”

Glasha shifted her stance, the tension in her body not quite as sharp as before. “You think your alliances see you as a protector?”

I let out a dry chuckle. “Glasha, the reason they agreed to ally with me isn’t because of economic cooperation or diplomatic goodwill.” I gave her a pointed look. “It’s because they know that if they do, they can seek my help more easily. They know that when war comes, when a threat arises, they have someone strong enough to keep their people safe.”

She stared at me, her jaw tightening, but still, she said nothing.

“Or,” I continued, leaning forward, my elbows resting on my desk, “they ally with me for another reason entirely.” I met her gaze directly. “For peace.”

Glasha’s fingers curled slightly at her sides.

“To stop war,” I added. “Like what happened between us.”

Silence stretched between us. My words settled heavily in the room.

Glasha’s expression didn’t change, but her silence spoke volumes. She couldn’t deny what I said.

After a moment, she finally exhaled, looking away. “I never wanted war,” she muttered.

“I know.”

She hesitated. “But you still forced me into this alliance.”

I let out a slow breath. “Would you rather I killed your people instead?”

Her sharp gaze snapped back to me, and I could see the flicker of old resentment behind her eyes. But this time, it wasn’t as strong as it used to be.

A long exhale slipped from my lips. “It’s painful for us, but it worked.”

Glasha flicked her sharp gaze back to me, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You mean painful for me?” She arched a brow, arms still crossed, her tone edged with something I couldn’t quite place. “You don’t look like you’re in pain.”

I let out a dry chuckle, shaking my head. “Do you think keeping a woman as my wife while knowing she hates me doesn’t give me pain?” I leaned back, tilting my head slightly. “You surely don’t know how many times others have come to me with suggestions, advice—hell, warnings—about you.”

Her expression didn’t change, but she was listening.

I smirked slightly. “You’re my wife, like it or not. And as much as you hate to admit it, that means something. I guess that gives me a certain… responsibility toward you.”

Glasha held my gaze for a long moment. Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to argue, to throw back one of her usual sharp remarks, but she didn’t. Instead, she looked away, her posture stiffening just a little. And that’s when I caught it—the faintest blush on her face, barely visible under the dim light.

That was new.

I didn’t comment on it. Not yet.

A silence stretched between us, not quite comfortable, but not hostile either. Then, her voice cut through it, steady but quieter than before. “A question, Your Majesty.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

She turned back to face me, her dark eyes serious. “If you fail… what then?”

I met her gaze without flinching.

She took a slow breath before repeating, firmer this time, “What will happen? What will you do if you fail?”

I didn’t even hesitate.

“I don’t fail.”

Glasha’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she was waiting for more, waiting for something deeper.

I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the desk, my voice steady. “I can’t fail. You saw how much problems showed up just because I was in hibernation. I can’t imagine what would happen if I was gone.” I exhaled sharply, my fingers tapping lightly against the desk. “Failure isn’t an option for me, Glasha. It never has been.”

She studied me carefully, her expression unreadable.

“You talk like you’re the only one holding this world together,” she said after a moment, her tone unreadable.

I smirked. “That’s because I am.”

Her lips twitched, as if she wanted to scoff, but she didn’t argue.

“Your arrogance is going to be your downfall one day,” she muttered.

I chuckled. “Then I hope I make it a spectacular one.”

Glasha let out a frustrated breath, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here I am.”

She rolled her eyes, but something in her posture had shifted. The hostility, the constant guardedness—it wasn’t gone, but it had lessened. Just a little.

Maybe, for the first time, she was beginning to understand.

Or maybe… she already had, even if just a little.