(Yuuta's POV)
I let out a long sigh, slumping back against the wall.
"Three chapters," I muttered. "Three whole chapters… and it was just a half history Dam."
But Grandpa's stories? They weren't normal. They were like spells—heavy, winding things that wrapped around your heart and refused to let go. No matter how tired I was, or how many chores I'd left unfinished, I'd always stay until the very end.
Like I didn't have a choice.
I rubbed my eyes. The weight of sleep tugged at me—and then, something else hit me.
Sniff.
Wait.
My eyes shot open.
"…The mushroom stew!"
I sprang to my feet and bolted into the kitchen, nearly colliding with the table on the way. The pot on the stove hissed softly, steam curling toward the ceiling. Most of the broth had evaporated, but thankfully, it hadn't burned.
I stirred it quickly, breathing a sigh of relief. Dinner was saved… technically. It was just a lot less stew and a lot more… interpretive cuisine.
"Note to self," I muttered. "Never listen to Grandpa near boiling food."
I glanced at the clock.
8:12 PM.
"She's late…"
I didn't mean to worry—but I did. I always did when she was out this long.
That's when I heard it. The door creaked open, slowly.
A familiar voice drifted in, soft and tired.
"I'm home…"
I turned immediately. "Erza?"
She stepped inside like the wind had blown her in. Her usual sharp, confident walk had been replaced with a slow, dragging shuffle. Her hair was a little messy, and her coat hung loosely from one shoulder like she'd forgotten how to wear it properly.
She looked… exhausted.
"What are you staring at?" she mumbled. "Can't you see I'm dying?"
I blinked. "Oh—uh, yes, my queen. Of course."
I rushed to help her out of her coat and set her bag aside. She kicked off her shoes with the grace of a collapsing tower and nearly fell over.
"Careful!" I said, catching her arm. "What kind of job were you doing? Wrestling minotaurs?"
She didn't answer. Just groaned and flopped onto the couch like her bones had given up.
"It was good," she murmured, pressing a hand to her forehead. "And… pretty chasing."
I raised a brow. "Chasing what?"
She waved a hand halfheartedly. "Demon,....I meant… exhausting paper work. Whatever."
I smirked and turned back to the kitchen. The stew—what little was left—needed stirring again.
"You know," I called, "this is exactly why I said I should be the one working. You don't need to push yourself so hard. You work ten hours just to come home like this—and for what? Barely enough to buy a bag of rice?"
"Idiot," she grumbled. "When did I ever say I earn less than you?"
I glanced back. "Alright then, how much are we talking? Eighty bucks? Maybe a hundred? Enough for rice and a sad, lonely onion?"
She lifted her head and looked me dead in the eye.
"Ten thousand."
I froze mid-stir.
"…What?"
"Ten. Thousand. Dollars," she repeated, like she was commenting on the weather.
I turned around, spoon still in hand.
"You made $10,000… today?"
She nodded slowly. "Mhm."
I blinked once.
Twice.
A third time, just in case I was hallucinating.
"…In one day?"
"Yes, Yuuta. In one day," she said with a yawn.
I just stood there, completely stunned. "Wait—how?! What kind of job pays that much?! You're not… running a gang or something, right? Please tell me you didn't become some underworld queen while I was cooking stew—"
THWAP.
A cushion slammed into my face with deadly accuracy.
"I told you I earned it honestly," she said dryly. "Don't make me regret walking through that door."
I stumbled back, dazed. "Jeez… With aim like that, you should join the Olympics. We'd win gold. No—platinum."
But my mind was already racing.
"Ten thousand dollars…" I whispered, staring into the pot like it held divine answers. "Multiply that by five days a week, that's fifty grand a week. That's two-point-six million a year. In ten years… we'd be loaded, Like we can buy anything, wait doesn't that make me next Mr Peast.!"
I grinned.
"Think, Yuuta. Think! You have a millionaire wife! All I have to do is support her more. Motivate her. Encourage her to keep working forever—"
"I know what you're thinking," she cut in, eyes narrowed. "You're calculating how rich we'd be if I kept this up."
I turned slowly. "...Yes. Yes, I am."
She cracked one eye open and stared at me with the icy gaze of someone about to commit war crimes.
"Foolish mortal," she said coldly. "You change your loyalty for ten thousand dollars? Pathetic."
Then she pointed lazily toward the kitchen.
"Bring me water, mortal. And maybe I'll forgive your betrayal."
I raised an eyebrow. "Really? That's your tone now? If you want something, maybe say please. Or use my name."
"I'll give you hundred dollars."
I blinked. "…My queen."
I stood at attention. "Command me, and I shall obey. I am your servant. Your humble footstool. Your ever-loyal cup bearer."
She laughed—an evil, satisfied little laugh that shook her shoulders.
The kind of laugh you'd expect from a villainess in heels standing over a burning battlefield.
"That's better," she said, grinning. "Serve me well… and I may consider giving you pocket money."
And just like that, the exhaustion in the air felt a little lighter.
I grinned too.
God, I loved this woman.
Even if she scared me a little.
Erza leaned back against the couch, holding a cold glass of water in one hand.
"Oh my," she sighed dramatically, dabbing her forehead with a napkin like some pampered noblewoman. "Such chilled water… I feel completely refreshed."
I raised an eyebrow. "Glad to hear it. Now—about my money?"
Without even looking at me, she reached into her coat and casually flicked a crisp bill my way.
"Here. A hundred bucks. Hohoho~"
She let out a ridiculous high-society laugh, pinky raised, like she was auditioning for an aristocratic villainess role.
I caught the bill mid-air and squinted at her.
"…You're evil. I hope you know that. One day, Erza—one day, I'll make you pay, you evil dragon."
She reclined even deeper into the cushions and stretched her arms out with exaggerated flair.
"Oh my, my shoulders… they ache terribly. Seems I won't be able to work tomorrow unless a certain household slave offers a massage…"
I stomped my foot. "Do you think just because you have money now you can treat me like a servant? I'm a man of principle! I won't bow my head to gold—not anymore!"
She didn't flinch.
"Mmm… such a shame. Guess I won't be earning tomorrow. And here I was thinking we could finally save for that new home…"
"Tch…" I clenched my jaw. "Fine. But it's gonna cost you five hundred dollars."
"Deal. But it better be a real massage."
I rolled my eyes and moved behind the couch, cracking my knuckles.
Her shoulders were smaller than I expected… soft, almost fragile beneath my fingers. She let out a pleased sigh, tilting her head like a cat settling into the sun.
"Ohhh… now this is the life what do you say Mortal," she hummed.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, my queen," I muttered.
There was a quiet moment. Just the sound of her relaxed breathing and the soft creak of the couch.
She opened one eye and looked at me gently. "Do you feel a little relax now?"
I blinked. "Huh? Relax? What do you mean?"
"You've been using your savings for past three months right," she said, voice soft. "So that me and Elena could live comfortably. I know you didn't want us to worry."
I looked away, embarrassed. "Nah, I've just been picking up some part-time work here and there. It's not a big deal."
She smiled. "Yuuta… it's okay to relax now. I'll take care of it. I'll work hard and save up so we can buy our own home… just the three of us."
My hands paused. I looked at her, eyes wide. "You mean it? A real house? Like, ours?"
She nodded.
"Two bedrooms, one hall, a cozy kitchen… and a little yard. Just thinking about it makes my heart feel light."
From the balcony, Grandpa coughed loudly—clearly on purpose.
"Ahem. And where exactly am I supposed
to live in this little dream of yours?"
Erza didn't miss a beat. "You? You're an immortal old fossil. Go back to the kingdom already. I know your Zani energy's replenished—you're just slacking here.!"
Grandpa clutched his chest like she'd stabbed him with words. "Cue the dramatic music… is this how you repay your dear grandpa? I raised you! Trained you to be queen! And now I'm exiled from the dream home?!"
"Ugh, stop the theatrics, already."
I tried not to laugh. Tried. Failed.
I continued the massage, enjoying the quiet moment between us—until she suddenly stiffened.
"…By the way," she said slowly. "Yuuta… you did prepare Elena for tomorrow, right? You know… the opening ceremony?"
My hands froze mid-press.
"…Ceremony ??,what ceremony?" I asked.
She stopped.
I stopped.
We turned to each other, slowly.
"Eh?" she said.
There was a long, tense silence.
Then—her smile.
That dangerous smile.
The next second, her fist collided with my nose.
"OWW—MY NOSE!"
"YOU ABSOLUTE MORON!" she roared. "HOW COULD YOU FORGET?! Tomorrow is our daughter's first day at the most prestigious academy!"
"I'm sorry!" I cried, holding my face.
"You reckless, forgetful, hopeless mortal!"
I collapsed to the floor, groaning.
I was, holding my nose. "I'm sorry!! I thought it was next week!!"
"Do you know how reckless you are? That child's future is on the line and you're over here burning stew and giving amateur massages?!"
"I—Wait, did you say amateur massage?!"
She raised her fist again.
"Okay okay I'll go get her uniform ready!"
I bolted toward Elena's room like my life depended on it.
Which, to be fair, it probably did.
"Ughh, my nose…" I muttered, still rubbing it as I shuffled through the storage closet. "All this for forgetting one little thing…"
I dug past old boxes, wrinkled clothes, and at least three broken umbrellas. Finally—after nearly dislocating my shoulder—I spotted it.
"There you are!" I held up the freshly packed uniform sent by Morning Star Elite Academy. It was neatly folded, the crest shining proudly on the chest.
Just as I was pulling it out, my hand brushed against something cold.
"…Huh?"
I pushed aside a dusty blanket and felt something heavy. Metallic. My fingers wrapped around a hilt—strangely familiar—and I pulled it out.
A sword broken one.
Not just any sword. Gold-lined, with strange, shimmering gems embedded in the hilt. It felt warm in my hand. Almost… alive.
I squinted at it. "…Wait a sec. Isn't this that thing I found way back in Volume 1? Chapter 18? I fished this out of the trash behind the Fiona home."
I stared at the blade for a second, then shrugged.
"Still looks like junk."
Without much thought, I tossed it back deeper into the shelf.
"I better sell that thing before Erza finds it and tries to turn it into a dragon-themed wall ornament…"
Finally, I laid the academy uniform out on the table and plugged in the iron.
"Alright, let's get this thing pressed and ready. Can't afford another nose-cracking mistake."
Just as I was about to leave the room, a whisper slithered through the air.
"You… fool…"
I froze.
My eyes darted around. "...Did someone say something?"
Silence.
I stared at the closet, now shut tight.
"…Yeah, okay. I'm just tired. Imagining things. Definitely not cursed. Nope."
I shook my head and walked off, trying not to think about it.
To Be Continued…
(Extra Scene)
(Third-Person for reader POV)
As Yuuta closed the closet door, completely unaware, the golden sword pulsed faintly—its runes glowing for the briefest moment.
Once wielded by chosen and feared by Demons, it now rested beside broken umbrellas and a dusty rice cooker.
Forgotten for over seventy chapters, only to be tossed back like garbage.
Its spirit wept. Metaphorically.
Will this relic ever find its destiny? Will justice be served?
…Probably not. But hey, let's not lose hope.
For now, the Konuari family had more pressing matters to deal with—
Like Elena's very chaotic first day at Morning Star Elite Academy.
Take care, dear reader. The real madness is just beginning.