"What do you mean… younger brother?" Yuuta asked.
The words slipped out before he could stop them. His breath grew heavy, his chest tightening as confusion washed over him. Something about Erza's phrasing felt wrong—too sudden, too sharp—like a door opening where none had existed before.
Erza froze.
For a fleeting moment, her composure cracked. She realized what she had done. Yuri's existence had slipped from her tongue without permission, without preparation. She had never truly decided to hide him from Yuuta forever, but neither had she been ready to reveal him. Yuri was not like Elena. His nature was volatile, his heart shaped by a world far crueler than the one Yuuta knew.
"Don't misunderstand me, Yuuta," Erza said after a pause, her voice carefully steady. "I meant a cousin. A younger cousin."
She let out a small laugh, light and dismissive, as if the mistake were trivial.
Yuuta studied her face. His brows furrowed, suspicion briefly surfacing in his eyes. Erza noticed it immediately and laughed again—this time a little louder, a little more forced—hoping the sound alone would smooth the moment away.
Then Yuuta blinked, and the tension eased.
"Oh… right," he said slowly, as if fitting pieces together in his mind. "You did mention once that you had two sisters and a younger brother."
Erza's eyes widened slightly. She hadn't expected him to remember something so small, spoken so long ago. For a second, she simply stared at him.
"It must be one of their children," Yuuta continued. "That's what you meant, right?"
Erza exhaled quietly, allowing the current to carry her forward.
"Yes," she said. "You remembered. I'm glad."
Yuuta smiled, relieved that his confusion had an answer. "So whose child is it? Your older sister's, or your younger brother's?"
Erza hesitated.
Only for a moment—but in that moment, memories surged. A child born under blood-red skies. A blade grasped too early. Eyes that mirrored her own cold cruelty rather than Yuuta's warmth.
"My older sister's," Erza said at last. "She has a baby boy."
Yuuta nodded, accepting the answer without doubt. "I see."
His gaze drifted to Elena, sleeping peacefully beside them. His expression softened, warmth filling his eyes.
"Elena must be lucky to have a brother like that, huh?"
Erza looked at him..
She looked at Yuuta—the man who spoke with such trust, such innocence—and felt something twist deep inside her chest.
Because he didn't know.
He didn't know that the child he was speaking of wasn't a cousin.
He didn't know that the one who had protected Elena from the shadows…
…was his own son.
Erza fell silent, her gaze drifting somewhere far beyond the church walls.
She remained like that for a moment—too long.
Yuuta noticed. He raised his hand and lightly flicked her forehead.
"Erza," he said. "Are you still here?"
She blinked, as if waking from a dream, and let out a small breath.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I was lost in my thoughts."
Yuuta studied her face, then spoke again, his curiosity no longer restrained.
"Tell me more about Elena's brother. I want to know about him."
For the first time in a while, Erza smiled—not the cold smile of a queen, nor the sharp one of a warrior, but something proud. Almost… fond.
"He was strong," she said. "Even as a child, he fought like a teenage dragon. His eyes were like mine—cold, sharp, unyielding."
She paused, then added, "His hair was white, like a lily untouched by blood. And he feared no one."
Yuuta listened closely.
"Anyone who tried to harm Elena," Erza continued, her voice lowering, "he killed them. Without mercy. Without hesitation. He didn't fear judgment. He didn't fear armies. To him, the world was simple—Elena lived, or others died."
Yuuta's brows knit together.
The way she spoke… it didn't sound like a distant relative. It sounded far more intimate. Too intimate. Like a mother speaking of her own child.
But he said nothing.
Erza went on, her eyes fixed on the sleeping Elena.
"There was a time," she said, "when Elena fell from a cliff. The soldiers froze. None of them moved."
Her fingers clenched slightly.
"But he jumped."
She looked back at Yuuta.
"He didn't think. He didn't calculate. He didn't wait for orders. He threw himself after her and saved her life. That's who he was. Day and night, he watched over her. Always killing. Always protecting.....But??!"
She stopped.
Yuuta felt it immediately. "But?" he asked.
Erza's smile faded.
"One day," she said slowly, "they fought. It began as a small argument. Something meaningless. But in my world, small cracks become deep wounds."
Her voice grew heavy.
"That disagreement shattered their bond. I was forced to step in—to protect Elena."
Yuuta's chest tightened.
"He left," Erza continued. "He built his own army. Chose his own path. After that… they never stood together again."
Silence filled the space between them.
"Now Elena is here," Erza said softly. "Perhaps he has forgotten her by now."
Yuuta suddenly dragged a hand down his face, frustration flashing across his expression.
"What the hell is wrong with your world?" he muttered. "Even children are taught to dominate each other. To destroy Sibling bonds that are supposed to be beautiful."
He looked at Elena, sleeping peacefully, unaware of the blood once spilled for her sake.
"In a place like that," Yuuta said quietly, "no wonder kindness becomes a sin."
Erza didn't answer him.
Not because she disagreed—but because the words struck far deeper than Yuuta could ever imagine.
That single argument, the one she had just spoken of, was where everything truly began to collapse. It was the moment Erza lost her last hope of ever living freely in her own kingdom. And at the center of it all was a truth Yuuta still didn't know—the existence of a father who had vanished, leaving behind a burden too heavy for children to bear.
Yuri wanted to kill that father.
Elena wanted to live with him.
Those two desires clashed so violently that even Erza had been powerless to stop the damage they caused.
The breaking point came during the attack.
Hydra dogs descended upon Elena, their fangs meant for her throat. The guards froze. Chaos erupted. And Yuri—who had always been her shadow, her shield—did nothing.
He chose not to save her.
That was when Erza understood.
Yuri's nature had twisted beyond redemption. He didn't seek understanding—only obedience. To him, the world was built on yes and no, on dominance and submission. The slightest disagreement ignited cruelty. Compassion offended him. Resistance enraged him.
He wasn't protecting Elena out of love anymore.
He was claiming her—guiding her from the shadows, shaping her fate so she would one day sit on the throne as a queen who obeyed his will, a puppet wrapped in royal pride.
Despite being only three years old, he already carried the calm, terrifying maturity of someone born to rule. His gaze held calculation far beyond his age, his thoughts sharp enough to command fear even among adults.
Elena, on the other hand, was still just a child—pure, open-hearted, untouched by ambition or cruelty.
The twins could not have been more different, as if fate itself had split light and shadow into two separate souls.
Fear took root in Erza's heart that day. Not of enemies. Not of war. But of her own son.
Elena, once fearless, began to shrink. The world became something to fear. Everyone became a potential threat. The only light she had left was her brother—and when that light was taken from her, something inside her broke.
So Erza made a choice no mother should ever have to make.
She erased Elena's memories of Yuri.
She severed the bond completely.
That was how they ended up here. On Earth. Far from dragons, thrones, and blood-soaked expectations.
Yuuta still didn't know any of this.
And Erza prayed he never would.
Because if Yuuta ever learned the truth—if he ever met Yuri—he would try to save him. He would insist on changing their son. On believing in redemption.
And Erza knew better.
That was why she would never allow them to meet.
Not now.
Not ever.
She closed the book in her hands with care, as if sealing away the past along with its pages. The church was quiet again, filled only with the distant hum of night and the steady rhythm of breathing—Yuuta's, Elena's, and her own.
After a moment, she spoke.
"That's enough for tonight," Erza said softly. "You should rest, Yuuta. We still have many things to prepare."
Yuuta looked at her, the tension from earlier finally loosening. A small smile curved his lips.
"You're right," he said. "We still need to write letters. A lot of them. Invitations for all your friends, right?"
Erza's lips lifted into a faint, confident smile. "Exactly. And don't take it lightly," she warned. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime event. I won't allow anything to go wrong."
Yuuta let out a quiet laugh. "Of course. I know better than to disappoint you on a day like that."
Erza studied his face for a second longer, then relaxed, the sharp edge in her eyes softening.
The weight of old stories, bloodstained memories, and unspoken fears slowly faded into the background. For now, there was no kingdom to protect, no enemies to confront—only the promise of tomorrow.
And so, beneath the ancient roof of the church, wrapped in silence and fragile hope, their long trial finally came to a peaceful end.
One week later.
The days following the trial passed quietly—almost too quietly—as if the world itself were holding its breath.
By the time the week came to an end, Yuuta and Erza stood at the edge of something irreversible. They were ready to be married.
Yuuta had spent most of that week writing letters until his fingers ached. Invitation after invitation went out—each one carrying a piece of his life with it.
His café boss. Jin. Sam. Fiona. Loid. Jenny. The headmaster of Morning Star. The orphanage staff. Friends from college. Anyone who had ever mattered, anyone he could remember, was invited to witness this moment at Gigal New Life Church.
For the church itself, this was no ordinary wedding.
It was the first celebration of its kind in over a century.
Crusaders and maids moved tirelessly across the island, decorating halls, polishing stone paths, and hanging banners that fluttered in the sea wind. Even the air felt different—lighter, almost joyful. An entire island was celebrating, not for glory or victory, but for love.
The media tried to interfere, of course.
Helicopters attempted to approach. Drones were launched from afar. Every attempt failed.
The entire island was sealed beneath powerful technology blockers, and the Crusaders—once skeptical, once mocking—now guarded every corner with unwavering loyalty. Regret had humbled them. Respect had bound them.
They checked every detail twice. Then three times.
This was not just a wedding to them anymore.
It was a redemption.
Erza spared no expense.
Using her vast wealth, she arranged fleets of ships to bring guests safely to the island. She oversaw everything personally—routes, security, timing. Nothing was left to chance. This was the most sacred moment of her life, and she refused to let even fate interfere.
From the distant horizon, luxurious ships began to appear—one after another—cutting through the ocean like silent promises. Their lights shimmered against the water, painting the sea with gold and silver.
Yuuta stood beside Erza, watching them approach, his heart full in a way words could never fully capture.
This was no longer just a wedding.
It was the beginning of a new life.
To be continued.