Even If I’m Reborn as a Cute Dragon Girl, I Will Still Make a Harem

In the tavern, music from the ancient instruments enveloped the dimly lit space with a hint of melancholy.

It was late at night, the town was asleep, and the tavern stood empty except for Raymond, who poured glass after glass of clear liquor for himself.

“Damn it. Damn it all.”

With each glass, Raymond muttered curses under his breath. It was unclear whom he was cursing—perhaps he was simply trying to drown his sorrows in alcohol.

“It seems you’re quite troubled,” remarked the tavern owner, serving Raymond for the fifth time that evening with another bottle. “Do you need an ear? Sometimes, sharing your thoughts can make you feel better.”

“Go away, I have nothing to say to you,” Raymond responded, waving him off dismissively. There was no way he could tell someone else that he had been cheated on by his own wife and found out that her son was not his own.

The tavern owner, accustomed to handling many such distressed patrons, wasn’t offended.

He skillfully opened the wine bottle and offered a friendly smile. “Even so, as a professional, I must tell you that no amount of drinking will help you escape your troubles.”

At this, Raymond’s hand trembled as he raised his glass, his bloodshot eyes meeting those of the tavern owner.

Despite the dim candlelight, the tavern owner’s imposing presence was unmistakable. His demeanor was far too commanding for such a modest establishment.

“Seems like you have a story to tell too,” Raymond commented.

Looking into the tavern owner’s eyes, Raymond sensed a familiar aura, akin to his own.

Both seemed to share experiences marked by heartache and confusion. Yet, a discernible difference set them apart—the tavern owner appeared to handle it with a resilience that Raymond could not muster.

“Who doesn’t have a story?” The tavern owner smiled as he poured wine into Raymond’s glass.

“You and I are but characters in tales. The distinction lies in whether our narratives can evoke laughter or tears of anguish from the readers. If we fail to move them, then our lives are truly uninteresting.”

“Well said, here’s to you.” Raymond toasted, lifting his glass, which the tavern owner reciprocated, filling his own glass before downing it in one big gulp.

“Haha, that really hits the spot.” Raymond chuckled, feeling a genuine smile grace his lips for the first time since his world had been turned upside down. “How did you know I was trying to get myself drunk?”

“That’s what everyone does when they visit my humble establishment,” the tavern owner replied, tapping the wine bottle to produce a crisp sound.

“If it were merely for the sake of sampling fine wines, there are plenty of opulent taverns on the street with exquisite selections. Yet here you are, in my modest tavern where even the aroma struggles to escape.”

“You’re right. One can only seek drunkenness and solace in such a remote tavern,” Raymond agreed, taking another gulp of his wine.

Conversing with the tavern owner seemed to have dulled the flavor of the wine in his glass.

“So, you’re saying that you have a drink that can truly intoxicate me?”

“Haha, as I’m in the business of inebriating patrons, of course I’m capable of knocking anyone who came in here down,” the tavern owner said confidently.

“But you just claimed that this is your finest wine,” Raymond countered, shaking the bottle in his hand.

“Indeed, it’s the best wine I offer, but not the most potent.”

“Oh?” Raymond’s interest was piqued as he slapped his thigh. “What are you waiting for then? Fetch it for me. Or are you worried I can’t afford it?”

“Of course not. Considering your demeanor, there’s no doubt you’ve held a lofty position for quite some time.”

With a wave of his hand, the tavern owner conjured several bottles of wine before Raymond.

“Were you bluffing? The alcohol in this could barely match my mouthwash.”

“Patience, my esteemed guest,” the tavern owner assured, producing a shaker bottle out of thin air.

Raymond’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “Cocktails?”

“I expected no less of someone your caliber. Cocktails it is,” the tavern owner said.

With deft and graceful movements, the tavern owner shook the shaker bottle, producing a melodious rhythm akin to a babbling brook flowing over stones.

It did not take long for the tavern owner to concoct a glass of colorful cocktail.

“Please enjoy your drink.”

Raymond’s gaze sparkled as he savored the cocktail with the finesse of a connoisseur.

“Exquisite!” he exclaimed with genuine appreciation.

“More awaits,” the tavern owner announced as he effortlessly prepared another cocktail with a flick of his wrist.

“Marvelous!” Raymond exclaimed, then asked, “Does this drink have a name?”

The tavern owner swirled his glass, observing the mesmerizing hues of the liquor, his eyes betraying a hint of nostalgia and melancholy.

“The name of this cocktail is… Carefree.”

“Carefree…” Raymond echoed softly as if pondering the profound meaning encapsulated within those simple syllables.

“There’s no need to delve too deeply into it; it simply means being drunk and carefree,” the tavern owner explained, masking his somber expression with a smile.

“That’s a good name. Make me another glass!” Raymond declared as he downed his glass with a single gulp.

“Indeed,” the tavern owner concurred, raising his head and emptied his own glass.

In the throes of the moment, two strangers forged an instant bond, their conversation flowing freely amidst laughter and libations.

As the night wore on, Raymond revealed his own tragic past, recounting how he had been cheated on by his wife and was forced to raise the son of another man.

The tavern owner, equally inebriated, confided about his girlfriend’s mysterious departure with another man. The two grown men hugged each other and wept like children.

After their tears dried, they continued to drink as if every sip could help them escape from their cursed fates.

In the haze of intoxication, time seemed to stand still, stretching into an eternity.

◆◇◆◇◆

“Ugghh… my head hurts…” Raymond groaned, clutching his throbbing skull as he struggled to get out of bed.

This was the first time he’d experienced the brutal reminder of a hangover since attaining the Saint Realm.

“Did the… tavern owner send me to an inn?”

Raymond was about to assess his situation—the first thing he usually did when hungover—when a sudden, forceful knock interrupted his thoughts.

Bang, bang, bang!

Rather than knocks, they sounded like someone was hammering on the door.

Raymond frowned in annoyance as he made his way toward the door. But as he moved, a searing pain shot through him.

“Damn, my a̲s̲s̲ hurts.¹ What’s going on…?” Raymond winced, his curiosity overshadowed by the sudden agony coursing through him.

Before he could investigate further, the relentless pounding on the door intensified.

“I’m coming! Seriously, what’s with the urgency?” Raymond grumbled, his displeasure evident as he swung the door open, only to be met with Estelle, whose face was contorted with anger.

“Estelle? What brings you here?”

“What brings me here? You should be asking yourself that!”

“What’s happened? I only came out for a drink.”

His mind flashed back to the events preceding his inebriation—skipping out on his duties to get a drink.

A shiver went down his spine. Had the demons breached the defense line while he was neglecting his duties to indulge in alcohol? If it turned out to be true, it would indeed be a grave offense.

As Raymond was about to inquire about the situation, Estelle abruptly darted past him and entered the room.

“What are you doing?” Raymond inquired, puzzled by her sudden rush.

“What do you think?”²