The Dragon King's Heart

"Are you just going to let him leave, just like that?" The young man asked the baker.

The baker had been hiding behind the archway leading to the back of the bakery since the hybrid and the vampire entered. He caught a glimpse of the young man who resembled so much of himself in his younger days.

The resemblance was uncanny.

-He looked exactly like a carbon copy of the both of us, my love.- the baker thought to himself.

He had no tears streaming down his cheeks. They had long dried up years ago when he lost the two people he had loved the most. Memories of the past brought back nothing but heartache.

His wife ran after the traders who promised a better life for their son. But when she returned with fatal wounds, she revealed the truth that shattered their world. They had sold their son into slavery.

"We failed him."

Those were her last words to him. Words he carried on with regret. The world had been cruel to him. As a mortal who married a vampire, he had assumed he was the lucky one.

The baker often wondered what would happen after he died. Would his wife mourn his death? He never expected it to be the other way around. To add insult to injury, he could not even bury her.

The fatal wound reduced her to ashes in his arms.

One moment she breathed her last.

The next, she was gone.

"He left you a note," the young man said to the baker as he handed the piece of paper to him.

The baker stared at it for a long time. He did not even have the strength to take it from the young man. So, the young man placed it right into the baker's hand before returning to the front of the bakery to tend to the shop.

The baker looked down at the slip of paper. He held it tightly, unsure of what to do as he stood there in silence. Since he lost his wife and son, the baker had not been himself.

Subsequently, he lost his remaining daughter too. He was alone in the world. The baker looked up at the oven behind him. Why did he keep the bakery open despite everything?

After he lost everyone he held dear, he poured his time and energy into keeping the bakery alive. He barely got by and managed with the skin of his teeth. But he kept going.

"Why?" The baker muttered to himself.

He subconsciously kept the bakery alive for a sliver of hope. Perhaps one day, his son, if he was still alive, would return home to look for his family. When that day came, he would embrace his son and apologize for everything that has happened.

When that day came, perhaps he would finally have the courage to live again.

But the moment he saw him, he realized he could not face him. A parent's duty was to protect their children at all costs. He had failed. The baker could not bring himself to face his son.

The baker buried his face in his hands. His heart was filled with so much sorrow, but in the midst of it all there was a tinge of happiness. He refused to allow himself to acknowledge the tinge of happiness.

His son was alive. He was grown and it seemed like he had grown to become a fine young man. The baker could not imagine the hardships his son had to go through to get to where he was now.

"He's a strong one, my love. Just like how we imagined him to be and more," the baker whispered to himself.

He looked at the slip of paper the hybrid had left for him. He did not feel worthy enough to read its contents.

"Are you just going to keep staring at that piece of paper?" The young man's voice cut through the baker's thoughts.

"Shouldn't you be looking after the front of the house?" The baker barked back.

Just then, the bell of the bakery door chimed as a new customer walked in. The young man mumbled as he returned to the front to serve the customer, leaving the baker to his own thoughts once more.

He let out a sigh.

He got up from his seat and walked over to the flickering candle on the table. He held the paper close to the fire. Just as the flame was about to lick the paper, he hesitated and shrugged back his hand.

What was he doing?

Why did he stop himself from doing so?

He did not have any answers to these questions. The baker wanted to know what was written on the piece of paper. But another part of him was filled with fear. The baker placed the paper in his pocket and went upstairs.

He went into his bedroom and opened the drawer of the bedside table. In it, was a small leather-bound book. It belonged to him and his wife. As he flipped it open, he traced his hand over the pages.

There were illustrations of various bread and pastries with detailed recipes written down. At the end of each recipe, there was a small note written by his wife. It was dedicated to their children, whom the couple wished would one day inherit the recipes for themselves.

The baker recalled the times his happy family of four spent baking together. His son loved the butter cookies they baked. That was the recipe he wanted to learn from his parents.

At first, the baker wondered if his instincts were wrong. He was in great disbelief that his son would walk into their bakery after so many years. But the moment he reached for those cookies, the baker knew.

That was his son.

"Our legacy."

The baker took in a deep breath as he closed the book. He took out the slip of paper again. This time, he did not hesitate. He opened it to read its contents. There was no long heartfelt letter written in there.

There was only one line written on it.

I am safe and I am well.