White Dragon Estate – Ruin's Quarters
Afternoon sun filters through sheer curtains, turning Ruin's white-and-silver bedroom into a pool of soft light. At the center stands a canopied bed, crowned with a plush crescent-moon pillow. All of Ruin pillows are in moon forms.
Ruin wakes up, white hair hopelessly tousled. A sharp sniff makes her grimace.
"DISGUSTING! Why am I sweating?"
She crosses the marble floor to her wardrobe and studies her reflection in the mirrored doors— flushed cheeks, stray hairs going everywhere. White pajama with a pink undershirt.
"Hmm, terrible."
The wardrobe opens with a hushed click. Inside of it rows of perfectly sorted clothing awaits. She picks crisp white shorts, a white shirt with a moon on it and thigh-high black socks.
"It's summer." she mutters. "Dress light and airy."
With the clothes draped over her arm, she slips into the corridor. A few White Dragon attendants bow as she passes. Ruin flashes a playful, menacing smile before heading toward the baths.
Just outside the bathroom, a tall woman emerges— snow-white hair cascading over a silver-and-black european style dress, eyes stern.
"Hey, Mom." Ruin greets.
"You stink. Go shower." the woman replies coolly.
"Okay— anything else?" Ruin arches a brow.
Disappointment shadows the woman's face. "You're nothing like our clan. Your outfit is questionable, your magic isn't our traditional magic and your attitude is… UNWORTHY."
Ruin shrugs. "That's fine for me. At least I'm happy." She swings the door shut— then pops it open again to stick out her tongue.
"RUIN!" Estelle's voice cracks down the hall.
Ruin answers with a sweet smile before disappearing behind the door.
Footsteps echo. A tall man approaches— silver-black suit, long gray hair, white beard, storm-grey eyes.
"Estelle did Ruin provoke you?" he asked calmly.
"She's a teenager, Joseph."
"She's a young adult." Joseph counters. "She should marry and bear a child."
"Give her time."
"It's war, Estelle. We don't know how long she'll live."
Estate of the White Dragons | Bathroom
Sunlight slants through the arched windows of the White Dragon estate's european-style bath. Pearl-and-onyx tiles glitter under the glow of silver sconces, and eight marble dragons pour icy water into the oval tub. Ruin stands at the basin, undressing.
"The conflict is ancient." she mutters, wrinkling her nose at the sour scent of sweat. "And it makes no sense."
In the gilded mirror, she studies the pale scars crossing her shoulders— proof of sparring matches and fights. Her silver-blonde hair sticks to her cheeks as she sighs. "Really messed up. Is it even a war anymore or a fight for the right to exist?"
She slips into the freezing bath, not a single flinch to the chill biting her skin. Water rises to her collarbones. "Is all this over some stolen artifact? Our dragon crest? Or whose magic the clan can claim?" She tips her head back until the lunar fresco on the ceiling blurs. "None of this adds up. What is the real reason?"
Holding her breath, she sinks beneath the surface. Blue light dances over the vaulted ceiling as she opens her eyes under water. When her lungs burn, she breaks through with a gasp and slicks shampoo through her hair.
"Why did I hate them in the first place? Endless killing only breeds new enemies." She rinses and rivulets of water trace her scars. "A true mage proves dominance by refining magic, not chasing grudges. Yet the clans are weak— no one stands up to Silver, Lucil, Mai… or me." her voice barely above the sounds of splashing water.
Silence fills the bath "That's the point. We've all lost the path. My hopes are at zero. Lucil and Silver are right— it literally is meaningless."
For nearly an hour, she sits motionless, letting the water numb her skin until it turns moon-pale. Finally she rises up and walks to the closest mirror. She pulls her crisp white shorts up, a white T-shirt and thigh-high black socks. A crooked smile flickers as she checks her reflection. "Stylish, at least."
When she opens the door, a masked attendant waits— black hair tucked behind a porcelain dragon mask in matching white robe and trousers, to finish his look.
"Madame Ruin, our master requests your presence." says the attendant
"All right." Ruin steps into the corridor. The chill of the bath still clings to her skin and the marble of the corridors fogs up to her cold body.
Estate of the White Dragons | Inner Ritual Hall
Ruin pushes open a pair of rune-carved doors and enters the ritual hall. The chamber is majestic, its polished checkerboard floor reflecting a single marble pedestal, where a colossal white dragon coils around a crystalline pool of fire.
On a dual throne of pale jade sit Estelle and Joseph, regal as ever.
Ruin strolls forward, hands in her short pockets. "Hey."
Estelle's lips flatten. "Typical. No bow, no thought."
Joseph leans forward. "We need to talk, daughter."
"So talk." Ruin stops in front of them.
Estelle and Joseph share a glance.
"It's been a week with no Red Dragon attack." Estelle begins. "That silence means they're planning something bigger."
Joseph nods. "We fear the worst— and we believe you're strong enough to help defend the clan."
Ruin smiles brightly but barely noticeable. "I like Mai and Lucil. So… no. And I thought I was the weak one!"
Joseph blinks. "What?"
"They're my friends."
"Ruin!" Estelle's voice cracks like a whip.
Ruin straightens. "If you want obedience, fight me because I've had enough of this!"
Parents and daughter face one another beneath the marble dragon.
Joseph's hand tightens on the arm of the throne. "They've killed our kin and you side with them?"
"I side with peace." Ruin shoots back. "I'm tired of being a puppet. None of you can even explain why this war drags on."
Estelle's silver eyes flash. "The Red Dragons have slaughtered—"
"That proves my point." Ruin's voice trembles with fury. "We're mages— logic should guide us, not blood feuds. Sengoku guardianship? Forgotten. Betrayals? Forgotten. Our origins— erased."
Estelle and Joseph exchange a silent, weighted look.
Estelle inhales. "Then listen to the clan's true history."
Joseph softly adds to it "Yes. You deserve to know. I am sorry but I have a bad feeling. My daughter, I promise— it will be the truth this time!"
"I don't care!" Ruin shouts, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "Even if the tale is noble, why keep killing?"
The side doors swing open. Two elders— Jonas and Jessica, twins with iron-gray hair—enter in matching silver robes.
Estelle rises. "Hear us, then judge."
Jonas and Jessica sit beside Ruin on the ground. Ruin sits as well.
Ruin crosses her arms. "Give me one good reason to hate Lucil and Mai."
Joseph exhales as though the weight of several tonnes presses on his lungs. "They carry cursed blood— power that once plunged the world into chaos. Even if unawoken, they're dangerous."
Ruin scrutinizes her father's face for any sign of deception; his resolve does not waver. Slowly she nods. "I'm listening now."
Jessica's voice fills the hall. "The White and Red Dragons were once a single clan."
Jonas continues, distantly gazing away. "We were called the Black Dragons…or simply, the Dragons—"