"W-wait… Erza—listen."
Yuuta forced his voice out, trying to breathe through the icy chain digging into his throat. The chill crawled down his spine, numbing everything it touched."Please… just listen to me for a second."
Her eyes narrowed."What is it?"
Yuuta swallowed hard. Every word scraped against the fear tightening his chest.
"I understand what you're saying. And I'm ready to go with you. I'll accept whatever punishment you decide. But…"
She stepped closer."But what?"
"I…" His hands trembled as he tried to steady himself. "I have college tomorrow. I can't miss it."
For a moment, she simply stared—like the word itself was foreign.
"College," she repeated slowly. "What does that mean?"
"It's… a place where I study. A place where I learn so I can build a decent future. It's the only chance I have to become someone wiser, someone useful."
Her expression shifted, barely perceptible—curiosity flickering beneath the coldness.
"Hm. Interesting."She tilted her head. "So. What do you want from me?"
Yuuta exhaled shakily, praying she would understand.
"Please," Yuuta said, his voice raw. "Let me finish my graduation. Just let me complete this one year. After that…"
His voice cracked, but he forced the words out anyway.
"After that, you can kill me. Freeze me. Punish me however you want. Just… give me this one year. I can't lose it."
Erza looked down at him, expression unmoved.
"So what is the point of studying?" she asked coldly. "If I am going to kill you anyway, it is not as if you benefit me in any way."
Yuuta shook his head slowly.
"I know," he said. "But the reason I studied so hard… was for someone. Someone I wanted to show that I could survive on my own. That I could pass."
Erza's eyes narrowed.
"If you are going to beg about parents, family, or some meaningless promise," she said flatly, "don't bother. I have heard such words countless times in my world—usually right before I tore them apart. It will not work on me."
Yuuta didn't look back at her.
His eyes were heavy, distant.
"I don't have parents," he said.
The words struck harder than any scream.
Erza froze.
Yuuta continued, his voice steady, almost numb.
"I grew up in an orphanage. I never saw my parents—not even their shadows. I was raised in a church. Alone."
He exhaled quietly.
"I don't care if you kill me. It's not like anyone will cry for me. No one will visit my grave. No one will even care where my body ends up."
He clenched his fists.
"But I promised someone that I would graduate."
For a long second, Erza didn't breathe.
Something unfamiliar stirred inside her chest.
Empathy.
An emotion she had never known.
All her life, she had understood only one thing—cold, brutal certainty. But this feeling… this ache… it was new. Unwanted. Confusing.
Her hand shot forward.
She grabbed Yuuta by the neck and slammed him against the wall, fingers tightening.
"Why?" she snarled. "Why do I feel sad for you? What spell did you cast on me? Who are you to make me feel empathy?"
Yuuta gasped, his hands gripping her wrist.
"I told you," he said hoarsely. "I'm human."
"No," Erza said sharply. "You are not."
Her eyes burned.
"I have killed countless humans. They told me the same stories—lost wives, dead mothers, murdered siblings, entire families erased. And yet… I never felt anything."
Her voice faltered.
"But your story… it felt like it was mine. My heart is pounding."
Her eyes widened as realization struck.
"…Yes," she whispered. "You are a Son of Disaster."
Her gaze sharpened.
"That is why you have black hair and red eyes."
Yuuta blinked.
"Black hair?" he said. "It's… common here on Earth."
Erza stared at him.
"What do you mean… common?" Erza asked.
"Yes," Yuuta said weakly. "It's normal."
She studied his face as if trying to peel truth from bone.
Erza did not believe him.Not even a little.
"I don't know how things work in your world," Yuuta went on, choosing his words carefully, "but on Earth, black hair is common. Asians, Africans—you see it everywhere. It's not rare at all."
The silence that followed was sharp.
"Common," Erza repeated, tasting the word. "Then tell me—do the humans of Earth worship Zareth as a god? Is that how you obtain power so easily?"
Yuuta blinked. "Zare—who?"
He never finished the question.
Erza stepped forward and seized his head, pulling him close until their foreheads touched.
"H-Hey—what are you doing?" Yuuta protested, his hands lifting instinctively.
"Do not resist," Erza said quietly. "I only seek knowledge."
A faint, pale light shimmered between them.
Yuuta felt it then—not pain, but something colder. As if a presence were brushing through his memories, skimming the surface. Faces he didn't recognize. Streets filled with people. Crowds of humans, most of them dark-haired. Ordinary. Countless.
After what felt far longer than it truly was, Erza released him.
Yuuta stumbled back, his legs giving way. He landed on the floor with a dull thud and pressed a hand to his head.
"Ouch…" he muttered.
Erza turned slightly away.
"…You were not lying," she admitted. "Black hair is common on Earth."
Her eyes sharpened again.
"But red eyes are not."
She looked back at him, suspicion returning in full.
"That still makes you dangerous."
Yuuta swallowed.
"I'm human," he said quietly. "I was born here. This is my world."
Then, after a hesitation, he added, "My queen."
Erza's gaze lingered on him longer this time.
"No," she said at last. "There is something I cannot see."
Yuuta stiffened. "What… what do you mean?"
She didn't answer immediately.
"Your childhood," Erza said slowly. "It is… dark. Like a shadow has been placed over it."
Yuuta's chest tightened. "I don't understand."
Erza fell silent.
For a moment, the cold certainty she always carried wavered.
"…Perhaps," she said softly, "my power is not as absolute as I believed."
She turned away.
"I cannot see far enough."
For a moment, Yuuta just sat there, trying to steady his breathing. Then he lifted his head.
"But… that proves it, right?" he said. His voice was quiet, careful. "I wasn't lying."
Erza did not answer.
"I'm human," Yuuta continued. "I was born here. I live here. And I promised someone that I would get my degree."
The words came out more firmly than he expected.
Erza turned back to him.
She stared.
Not with anger.Not with cruelty.
With scrutiny.
The room fell silent.
Erza did not speak.Did not blink.She only watched him—studying his desperation, the sincerity, the fear shaking through him.
Seconds stretched into something longer, heavier.
Finally, she closed her eyes.
"…Very well."Her voice was quiet, almost thoughtful."My mana has not fully recovered anyway. I will allow you to live for one year."
Yuuta's breath escaped in a broken rush."R-really…?"
She opened her eyes again—cold, unyielding.
"But understand this."The chain slowly dissolved into frost, releasing his throat."I will stay with you during that time. I will observe you. And the moment your graduation ends—your life ends as well."
Her words struck like a blade, carving themselves deep into him.
"I… understand," Yuuta whispered.
Erza turned away, her expression unreadable. She walked to the sofa and sat down with a quiet exhale, as if she had stepped into a place she did not recognize, a world she had never intended to enter.
Her presence filled the room with a sharp, heavy tension.
And Yuuta stood there, rubbing the faint frost marks on his neck, realizing—
He had only bought time. Not salvation.
(Luno City, 7:00 a.m.)
Yuuta stood on the balcony of his small apartment, coffee in hand, and a mild existential crisis brewing in his chest.
The city of Yuno was waking up below him—buses honking, kids racing off to school, people rushing to jobs they probably hated. Same as always.
Except… not for him.
Because inside his apartment, there was a woman.Not just any woman.
A silver-haired, Voilet-eyed beauty who looked like she'd stepped out of a fantasy novel and decided she owned the place. She claimed to be his wife. His actual wife. And she brought a child with her..
Let that sink in. Yuuta didn't wanna think about them right now.
He sipped the coffee. It tasted like paper. Maybe because his brain was still stuck on the fact that he was allegedly married to a woman he couldn't remember, with kids he didn't even know existed a day ago.
Yuuta leaned against the railing, staring at the rising sun as it peeked between the buildings. The sky was turning soft orange. Warm. Comforting. Almost enough to make him believe this was all just a dream.
But the silence inside his head was too clear. Too real.
He dragged a hand down his face and sighed."What the hell is my life?"
Yuuta wasn't even thirty yet, working a dead-end job, just got ghosted by his high school crush Fiona, and was about to confess to her later this week. He had a plan. He even bought a small ring. Something cheap, but meaningful.
And now?
Now a woman named Erza had barged into his home like she belonged here, declared herself his wife, and started acting like they were already a family only to kill him later.
Just… what?
Yuuta's eyes narrowed as a thought hit him like a brick.
Wait a second. How the hell did he get married in the first place?
He turned around slowly.
No ceremony. No memory. No photos. No paperwork.
All he remembered was… a dream.One strange dream.And maybe… one night. One reckless night he couldn't fully recall.
No way, he thought, stepping inside.
Yuuta walked back into the living room. Erza was sitting on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV with a mix of confusion and cold indifference, like someone trying to decode alien signals.
Her posture was perfect. Straight-backed, legs crossed, chin slightly raised. Regal. Dominant. Dangerous.
She looked far too powerful for someone casually watching a drama show.
"Erza," Yuuta said cautiously.
She turned her head slowly, eyes locking onto him with a glare that felt like being stared down by a predator. Her Voilet irises almost glowed in the dim morning light.
"If you plan to waste my time with nonsense again," she said, "speak quickly."
Yuuta raised his hands in surrender, took a deep breath, and dropped to one knee.
"My Queen," he said dramatically, "please answer me this one question."
She arched a brow."Go on."
"How the hell did I become your husband?"
She narrowed her eyes."You truly don't remember?"
"Not a thing. I don't remember any wedding, any vows, nothing! One night. That's all I remember. How does that make me a husband?!"
Erza stood slowly. Even her movements had weight to them, like gravity bent around her when she moved.
"In my world," she said calmly, "once a dragon chooses a partner and an heir is born, the bond is formed. Flesh, blood, soul. You became my husband the moment you made me a mother."
"That's… That's insane," Yuuta said, standing. "That's not how it works here!"
"In your world," she said coldly, "perhaps. But you are no longer just of this world. You touched mine, and now, whether you accept it or not… you are bound to me."
Yuuta opened his mouth to argue again, but her glare deepened. And just like that, he closed it.
One punch from her last night had felt like getting hit by a wrecking ball made of fire and regret. He didn't want a repeat.
"Mama, I'm hungry…"
A small voice broke the tension. Yuuta turned toward the hallway. A little girl peeked out from behind the corner, rubbing her sleepy eyes.
White hair. Crimson eyes. Like him.
Elena.
His daughter.
That word still felt too big. Too heavy.
Erza sighed."I'll prepare breakfast."
Yuuta blinked."Wait… You can cook?"
"Of course," she said, walking past him. "You are connected to me by fate. Consider yourself fortunate I haven't let you starve yet."
Yuuta watched her disappear into the kitchen like a battle queen entering her new territory.
"…Thanks?" he muttered.
She didn't reply.
(Fifteen minutes had passed.)
Not a single sound came from the kitchen.
No sizzling. No chopping. Not even the soft bubbling of boiling water.
Not even… gas.
Nothing.
Just the quiet hum of the refrigerator and the awkward silence of Yuuta's brain, wondering if he was about to be poisoned or impressed.
Did she even know how to cook?
Or was she secretly a master chef in her dragon kingdom—some battle-hardened warrior who also ran a five-star restaurant on the side?
Highly doubtful.
Yuuta sat on the floor of the living room with Elena between his legs, brushing out her white, tangled hair. She had hair like her mother's—fine, soft, but wild, like moonlight with a temper.
She didn't say much. She just swayed slightly while he brushed, humming to herself a tune he didn't recognize.
Honestly, Yuuta didn't know how to act around her yet. Was he supposed to be fatherly? Gentle? Strict?
He barely knew how to talk to kids, let alone raise one.
"Are you always this quiet in the morning?" Yuuta asked.
Elena nodded without looking back. "Mama said silence is strength."
"Well, your mama also walks around like she owns gravity, so I'm not surprised," Yuuta muttered.
Elena giggled. Just a little.
Somehow, that sound made everything feel a bit more… real.
Yuuta paused brushing. "Hey, Elena… do you know me? Before all this?"
She tilted her head, red eyes blinking up at him in confusion—then certainty.
"Of course, Papa," Elena said without hesitation. "Elena knows her Papa."
His chest tightened.
Yuuta blinked. "You do?"
She nodded enthusiastically. "Mama told me."
"…Told you what?"
"That my Papa has black hair," she said, pointing at his head, then at her own, "and red eyes. Just like Elena."
She giggled again, then hesitated.
"But…" Her voice dropped a little. "Elena didn't expect Papa to be an evil human."
Yuuta froze.
"…Evil?" he repeated. "Being human isn't evil."
Elena puffed her cheeks a little. "Mama said humans are greedy. They want too much."
The words stung—but Yuuta swallowed them down.
He almost argued. Almost raised his voice.
But she was still a child. Their child.
So instead, he knelt slightly and asked gently,"Elena… in your world, have you ever seen scary dragons?"
Her shoulders trembled.
"Yes," she whispered, shrinking in on herself. "There are lots of them. Elena is afraid. They're scary…"
Yuuta set the brush aside and rubbed her back slowly, carefully—like he was afraid she might disappear if he moved too fast.
"But," he said softly, "aren't there good dragons too?"
Elena looked up again, eyes brightening.
"Yes!" she said quickly. "Dina and Den,! And Mama. And Great-Grandpa. They're all nice to Elena. They're good dragons."
Yuuta smiled—genuinely this time.
"That's how it is," he said. "Humans are the same. There are bad ones… and good ones too."
Elena stared at him for a long moment.
Then she beamed, clapping her hands once."My Papa is wise! My Papa is wise!"
Her laughter filled the room.
Then—click.
Yuuta turned toward the kitchen.
Erza stepped out, holding a metal tray like she was presenting an ancient artifact. On top of it, a domed lid shimmered with a faint, unnatural glow. Magic. Probably.
Her expression was unreadable as she walked over, set the tray on the table, and slowly removed the lid with all the dramatic flair of someone revealing a legendary sword.
Underneath… was food.
Real food.
Being married might not be so bad.
Yuuta opened the lid of the plate.
Silence.
Just… roast plain chicken. Sitting there. No seasoning. No oil. Just… meat.
Yuuta stared at the plate.
Then at Erza.
Then back at the plate.
Then at Erza again.
"What the hell is that?"
His eyes widened, genuine confusion mixing with dawning horror. For a moment—just a moment—he thought she might be joking. That this was some kind of elaborate prank designed to mess with him.
Her expression told him otherwise.
"Meat," Erza replied flatly. Her arms were crossed, her eye fixed on him with cold impatience. "What? You don't like meat?"
Yuuta blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.
"Is this what you 'made'?" His voice climbed in pitch. "You just... you just put chicken on a plate and used magic on it and called it breakfast?!"
Erza's eye narrowed. "I cooked it."
"You zapped it!"
"Same thing."
"IT IS NOT THE SAME THING!"
Yuuta's hands flew to his hair, gripping it in frustration. He was a hotel management student—or had been, before his life collapsed into this chaos of demon queens and magic daughters. He'd spent years learning the craft of cooking. The science. The art. The soul of it.
"Using magic to cook?" He gestured wildly at the plate. "That's borderline illegal! Cooking should be something made with love, care, and fire—not shortcuts! You can't just—you can't just magic food into existence and call it a meal!"
Erza's expression didn't change. But something in the air shifted.
Cold.
Dangerous.
Before Yuuta could react, her hand shot out and closed around his throat.
Not hard enough to choke. Hard enough to control.
"You dare speak to me like that?" Her voice dropped to ice. "Did you forget, mortal, that you begged me to spare you?"
Her eye burned. Not with fire—with something worse. The absolute certainty of her own power. The knowledge that she could end him with a thought.
Yuuta's feet left the ground.
"Did you forget your place?" Each word was precise. Deadly. "Did you forget who I am?"
He dangled there, caught in her grip like a disobedient puppy. His mind raced—not with fear, exactly, but with the sudden realization that he might have pushed too far.
Then—
"Mama's dish is tasty! I like it!"
Elena's small voice cut through the tension like sunlight through clouds.
She sat at the table, happily munching on the magically-prepared chicken. Her red eyes sparkled with innocent enjoyment, completely unaware of the life-or-death struggle happening three feet away.
Erza's grip loosened. Just slightly.
She looked at Elena. Then at Yuuta. Then back at Elena.
The message was clear: The child is watching.
She released him.
Yuuta dropped to the floor, gasping—more from surprise than actual choking. He rubbed his neck, glaring up at her.
Erza squinted down at him like he was the problem. Like her cooking was Michelin-star quality and he was simply too ungrateful to recognize it.
"Fine." Her voice was cold, dismissive. A queen ending an argument she'd already won in her own mind. "Make something. Your so-called human cooking. I will let this slide—and your earlier behavior."
She turned away, settling back into her chair with absolute authority. The matter was settled. She had spoken.
Yuuta stared at her.
Then, in his head, something activated.
Shounen cooking battle theme intensifies.
He imagined it in vivid detail—dramatic music, flashing lights, a crowd of unseen spectators gasping at every move. Erza on one side, wreathed in demonic power. Him on the other, armed with nothing but flour and determination.
He would show her. He would show them all. The power of human cuisine!
"Daddy?"
Elena's voice shattered the fantasy.
She looked up at him with those big red eyes—so pure, so full of innocent faith. Like he was the most amazing person in the world. Like he could do anything.
"You know how to cook?"
Yuuta's heart exploded.
Literally. Medically. He felt something burst in his chest.
This child—this perfect, beautiful child—believed in him. She looked at him like he was a hero. Like he was Papa.
Nosebleed.
"Yes." His voice came out strangled with emotion. "Yes, my dear daughter. I'll make you the most delicious dish ever."
"Yay! I love you, Papa!"
Nosebleed intensifies.
He staggered, clutching his chest, dying of pure paternal joy. This was it. This was the moment he'd live for. This tiny girl with her tiny voice and her tiny hands and her enormous, trusting eyes.
Erza turned her face away, arms crossed in dramatic offense.
"Hmph. Whatever." She grabbed another piece of her magically-zapped chicken. "I'm eating my breakfast."
---
Yuuta straightened.
He wiped the blood from his nose. He rolled his shoulders. He cracked his neck.
Then he narrowed his eyes and stepped into the kitchen like a warrior walking onto a battlefield.
"You dare insult my skills, Lizard Queen?"
He said it quietly. Under his breath. There was no way he'd say it loud enough for her to hear—he wasn't that stupid. But in the privacy of his own mind, in the sacred space of his kitchen domain, he could be bold.
"Well then." He surveyed his ingredients. "Witness true culinary power."
He grabbed an apron. Tied it with dramatic flair.
"I hold a Hotel Management degree!"
Evil laughter echoed in his head.
Muahahaha!
Time to cook.
---
Yuuta checked his ingredients:
· Chicken breast
· Flour
· Bread crumbs
· Eggs
· Oil
· Mayonnaise
Simple. Classic. Perfect.
Hmm... crispy chicken with mayo. A crowd-pleaser. A child-pleaser. A demon queen-pleaser, whether she admitted it or not.
"Chickin... Crity... Manogos!"
Elena's small voice came from behind him. He turned to find her standing at the kitchen entrance, peeking in with those sparkly red eyes. She was trying to pronounce the dish name and absolutely butchering it.
So damn cute.
She was definitely his daughter. No DNA test needed. No question about it.
Yuuta cracked his knuckles.
"Alright, princess. Let's cook."
---
First, oil.
He poured it into a pan—medium heat only. No rushing. No shortcuts. The oil needed time to warm while he prepped. Patience was the secret ingredient in every great dish.
Then the chicken.
He grabbed a breast and laid it on the cutting board. Butterfly cut—gently slice it open to flatten it. Not too thick, not too thin. Perfect.
Then he poked it lightly with a fork.
Give it some love, he thought. Chicken deserves it.
"Why is he talking so much?"
Erza's voice drifted from the dining area. She hadn't moved from her chair, but her eye followed his every movement with cold curiosity.
"Pathetic mortal." She took another bite of her own chicken. "It's just cooking, weirdo..."
Yuuta ignored the hater in the back. Haters were fuel. Haters were motivation. Haters were—
Actually, she could probably kill him with a thought. Better to focus on the food.
---
Next: prep stations.
Three trays, arranged in assembly line order.
First bowl: eggs. He cracked three of them with one hand—showoff move, entirely unnecessary, but satisfying. Then he whisked them like life depended on it, wrist moving in rapid circles until the yolk and white became one golden liquid.
First tray: flour. Plain white, unseasoned. The foundation.
Second tray: breadcrumbs. But not plain—he mixed in a pinch of salt and a generous amount of black pepper. Don't be shy with pepper. It makes it pop.
"Important tip!" Yuuta announced to his imaginary camera—the one that existed only in his mind, filming this cooking show for an audience of millions. "Don't overcook the chicken! Just three to five minutes per side, max! We want crispy, not charcoal!"
"Okay, Papa!" Elena cheered from behind him. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she was pumped anyway.
"Always wash your hands first, Elena." Yuuta gestured her over. "Then—egg, flour, egg, crumbs. Got it?"
She nodded seriously, red eyes focused.
Together, they worked.
He demonstrated the breading process like a pro—dip in egg wash, roll in flour, back in egg, then press into breadcrumbs like it was the most important thing in the world. Each piece coated evenly, perfectly, ready for the pan.
Elena copied him with intense concentration, her small hands mimicking his movements. Her pieces came out lopsided and uneven and absolutely perfect.
"Good job, princess."
She beamed.
---
Ssshhh...
The sound of frying filled the kitchen as the chicken hit the hot oil. Bubbles danced around each piece, the breadcrumbs beginning their transformation into golden perfection.
Cooking magic. Not the kind Erza used—the kind that came from heat and oil and human skill.
The aroma spread like... well, like magic.
---
"What... is that smell?"
Erza's voice came from the doorway.
She'd moved without him noticing—silent as always, lethal as always. But her eye wasn't cold now. It was... confused. Curious.
The smell had reached her. Wrapped around her. Demanded her attention.
Her nose twitched. She couldn't help it.
"It smells... delicious." The words came out before she could stop them. Her expression flickered—just for a moment—with something almost like embarrassment. "No way. What the hell is he making?!"
Yuuta smirked at the pan. He didn't turn around. Didn't acknowledge her. Let her wonder. Let her want.
"Papa!"
Elena tugged at his shirt, red eyes sparkling. "Is it ready yet? Please, please, please—just a little bite?"
Yuuta looked down at her. At the pure anticipation on her small face. At the trust in those red eyes.
He held back a proud tear.
"Not yet, princess." His voice was gentle. "It's still hot. Go help Papa set the table."
"Yes, Papa!"
She ran off like a spark of light—quick and bright and impossible to contain. Her small feet pattered against the floor as she disappeared toward the dining area.
Yuuta turned back to the pan.
"Alright... almost ready." He reached for the garnish. "Now I just need to add—"
Evil laugh mode: ON.
---
Minutes later, Yuuta emerged from the kitchen like a five-star general presenting a conquered flag.
The golden crispy chicken rested on a large serving plate, arranged with the precision of an artist. Fresh herbs dotted the surface like emeralds. A light glaze caught the light and threw it back in warm amber tones. Steam rose in lazy curls, carrying that impossible aroma with it.
He carried it to the table like he was summoning Excalibur.
BOOM.
The plate hit the table with theatrical force. Yuuta stepped back, arms spread wide, presenting his creation to the world.
"BEHOLD!"
Elena's eyes went wide. "Woahhh... it's golden!"
Erza's eye followed the plate despite herself.
Elena and Erza sparkled.
"Woahhh… it's golden!"
"And that aroma… is this… a heavenly dish?!" Erza gasped.
Yuuta smirked, wiping his hands dramatically. "Hah! Looks like someone enjoys my psycho cooking!"
"Tch! You probably just used illusion magic to deceive us—this isn't real food!" Erza said.
Yuuta covered his eyes with one hand, tilted his head back, and let out the most dramatic villain laugh.
"HAHHAHAHA! I've always seen losers scream when they lose!"
Elena munched happily.
"Mama, it's sooo tasty! Elena loves it! It's delicious!"
"Papa, you're the best cook ever!"
Yuuta smiled proudly. "Dip it in Sauces, my princess—and chew properly, okay?"
Meanwhile, Erza was dying inside. Her pride battled her stomach. She wanted to try it—but folded her arms, pretending not to care.
Yuuta smirked like a menace. "Oh, are you avoiding it, my Queen? Let me help."
He picked up a crispy piece and waved it in front of her.
"Look, it's flying! Wheee~ wheee~"
Her face twitched as she struggled not to show weakness.
Yuuta loved every second of it.
Then—plot twist.
Right before she opened her mouth, he swerved and fed it to Elena instead.
"Heh. Revenge is sweet, Lizard Queen."
But then… he saw it.
A small raged aura welled up in Erza's eye.
Crap. He went too far.
Yuuta stopped messing around and offered her a real piece—genuinely.
She huffed and looked away."I'm not eating it. I'm just… checking the flavor. For research."
She took one bite.
And her soul ascended.
A full-body foodgasm.
The flavors exploded across her tongue like a symphony of meat and magic.
She blinked. Then blinked again. Then quietly devoured the rest. Not a single crumb remained.
Elena laughed. Yuuta laughed. Erza was… smiling?
Maybe this chaotic, crazy, disaster of a life… was actually kind of fun.
Yuuta finally sat down at the table, wiping sweat from his forehead like he had just completed a boss fight.
Erza had devoured half the plate, pretending she wasn't impressed.
Elena was already asking for seconds.
"Papa's food is better than Palace Chef! Can you cook every day?"
"Hmph… it was okay. Maybe," Erza grumbled.
Yuuta leaned back, arms crossed smugly."Admit it, Queen. You lost. My cooking wins."
Erza glared at him like she wanted to throw the fork.
"Don't get cocky, Worm. Next time, I'll cook something that blows your tiny human brain away."
Yuuta laughed."Can't wait to see you try, Queen."
Everything was peaceful… until Yuuta's phone rang.
The device vibrated on the table, its screen flashing with unfamiliar light. Elena's eyes widened as she stared at it, startled by the sudden noise.
Erza pointed at the object, her expression sharp."What is that?"
Yuuta glanced at it and answered calmly, "A communication device. Humans use it to talk to each other from anywhere on Earth."
Erza's eyes widened."How?" she asked coldly. "What power does it use? Mana? Dark mana? Zani Cina? Aura? How can voices travel through a metal box?"
"It doesn't work like that," Yuuta said, shaking his head. "It runs on science and technology."
Before he could say anything else, Elena—curious and too quick—tapped the screen.
The call connected.
"Hello? Yuuta? Hello?"
Yuuta froze and turned sharply toward the phone."…Fiona."
Erza's gaze shifted instantly."Fiona?"
The voice continued, unaware of the tension. "Where are you, Yuuta? Did you forget you have a college? You're late. It's already 8:57 a.m. Come quickly."
Elena tugged at Erza's sleeve."Mama… this human woman knows Papa."
Erza felt something unfamiliar twist in her chest. Her expression slowly stiffened, the air around her turning cold. This was the first time she had ever felt such an emotion—and it unsettled her.
She looked at Yuuta.
Yuuta didn't meet her eyes. He grabbed his bag in a hurry."I'm sorry, my Queen," he said quickly. "Please don't misunderstand."
Erza reached out to stop him.
Too late.
Yuuta was already at the door.
"Mortaaaalll!"
Her voice echoed through the house as he escaped.
To Be Continued
Author's Note:
If you enjoyed this chapter, please don't forget to add it to your collection!
Your support means the world and helps me keep writing more for you all.
Thank you, loyal readers!