"How many children do you want me to have?"
The question slipped from Erza's lips without hesitation.
The night itself seemed to stop breathing.
Yuuta froze mid-step, Elena still asleep in his arms. The wind brushing the balcony rails fell quiet, and even the distant laughter from the celebration below felt impossibly far away.
He blinked.
Once.
Then again.
"…Pardon?" he said at last, genuinely unsure if his ears had betrayed him.
"Is that a joke? Or am I missing something?"
Erza slowly turned to face him.
The moonlight caught her eyes, sharp and unwavering.
"Are you pretending to be foolish," she asked coolly, "or are you truly one?"
Her gaze didn't soften. "Just answer me. How many do you want?"
Yuuta opened his mouth, then closed it.
"Erza," he said, a little louder than intended, "are you actually serious right now—?"
Elena shifted in his arms, letting out a soft, sleepy sound. Yuuta instantly fell silent, gently rocking her until she settled again, her tiny face relaxing against his chest.
Only then did he look back at Erza.
"…You are serious," he said quietly.
"I am," Erza replied. "You should already understand this. It is a dragon standard to have Multiple offspring."
Yuuta let out a breath that was half disbelief, half surrender.
"How would I know dragon standards?" he muttered.
"What part of this conversation is supposed to make sense to a human?"
Erza exhaled slowly, as if choosing her words with care. She turned back toward the sky, her voice calm but heavy with meaning.
"In my world," she began, "a female dragon's womb is hostile to male essence. Any seed that enters is rejected—destroyed instantly."
Yuuta stiffened.
"That is why dragons give birth so rarely," she continued. "It can take centuries for one child to be born. Two, if fate is generous. Royal dragons are precious because of this."
Yuuta stared at her, his thoughts scrambling to catch up.
"…Then wait," he said slowly. "What was the point of asking me something like that?"
"If your body is supposed to reject it anyway?"
Erza finally turned back to him.
Her expression had changed.
"That is precisely the reason," she said.
Yuuta's chest tightened.
"I noticed something," she went on. "From the very beginning."
Her voice lowered, almost cautious. "My body never rejected you."
The words landed heavier than any spell.
"That is why Elena was born within a single year," Erza said softly.
"When many royal-blood dragons struggle for centuries just to have even one child. That is how precious children are to our kind."
Yuuta lowered his gaze to Elena.
She slept peacefully in his arms, unaware of the weight her existence carried—the rarity, the miracle, the quiet defiance of an entire world's rules.
Then he looked back at Erza.
"…You might be right," he said slowly. "But I always thought you would hate the idea of having many children."
Erza turned to him, clearly startled.
"Hate it?" she repeated.
Her brows knit together in confusion. "Why would you think that?"
Yuuta hesitated. "I don't know… you always seemed so strict. So distant. I thought motherhood would feel like a burden to you."
Erza stared at him for a moment.
Then she scoffed.
"How could I be angry about carrying life in my body," she said bluntly, "when it is one of the greatest honors of my existence?"
Yuuta blinked, caught off guard by the weight in her words.
Erza didn't stop.
"Just because I do not show affection the way humans do," she continued, her voice firm, "does not make me a bad mother."
She turned toward him now, moonlight brushing her face.
"Every female dragon dreams of bearing many children. Do you know how we wait beneath the night sky—hands resting over our bellies—whispering stories to the lives growing inside us?"
Her gaze softened, though her tone remained proud.
"We speak of the skies they will one day fly, the stars they will see before anyone else. We whisper our victories, our regrets… our hopes."
She exhaled slowly.
"And then, one day, we hold them in our hands—small, warm, fragile—and watch them grow strong."
Erza looked directly at Yuuta.
"So tell me," she said quietly, "how could you ever think I would see such a thing as a burden?"
The night fell silent again.
Yuuta swallowed, the weight of her words settling deep in his chest—realizing, perhaps for the first time, how little he truly understood, and how much he still had to learn.
Then it clicked.
Yuuta stiffened slightly, the words she had spoken moments ago echoing in his mind. He lifted his head, eyes narrowing with quiet confusion.
"…You just said carrying a baby," he said slowly, as if testing the words out loud. "You mean—carrying it in a womb?"
He hesitated, then added, almost carefully, "But… don't dragons lay eggs?"
Erza stopped moving.
Not dramatically.
Not completely.
Just enough.
For the briefest moment, the air between them tightened.
She turned away, her gaze shifting to the moonlit sky above the church balcony a little too quickly to be natural.
"I meant laying eggs," she said. "That's what I meant."
Her tone was firm—too firm. "Obviously. It still counts."
Yuuta studied her face from the side. The sharp line of her jaw. The way her shoulders were just a bit too stiff.
"…You hesitated," he said quietly.
"I did not," Erza replied at once, her voice snapping like a blade.
Yuuta fell silent.
Something was there. He could feel it—something hidden behind that familiar cold composure. But he also knew her well enough now.
Pushing Erza when she didn't want to speak only made her walls rise higher.
I'll ask Grandpa later, he decided, letting the thought fade.
Erza puffed her cheeks in annoyance and turned fully toward the moon, deliberately facing away from him.
"Hmph."
Yuuta let out a slow sigh. Then, after a moment, he spoke again—this time answering the question she had asked earlier.
"…Honestly," he said, "I think four kids would be nice."
"Four?" Erza turned her head sharply. "Just four?"
She leaned toward him, crimson eyes narrowing. "That's all?"
"I—I mean, four is already a lot, right?" Yuuta scratched his cheek nervously. "Okay, then three. Three is fine too."
Erza sighed, resting her fingers against her forehead.
"How can I expect ambition from you," she muttered. "I thought far more highly of you."
Then she straightened and looked directly at him again.
"Fine," she said. "Answer me this."
Her voice softened slightly. "What do you want first—Son or Daughter?"
Yuuta thought about it.
Only for a second.
"I want a son," he said.
"A son?" Erza tilted her head. "Why?"
Yuuta smiled—not wide, not flashy, but warm.
"Having a son would be fun."
The words left Yuuta's mouth easily, almost casually.
Erza stopped.
She turned toward him, violet eyes narrowing slightly, as if she were trying to dissect the meaning behind that single sentence.
"…Fun?" she repeated, genuinely confused.
Yuuta let out a soft laugh. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring a picture only he could see.
"Yes," he said gently. "Fun."
He opened his eyes again, his voice calmer now, thoughtful.
"It's not that I'm favoring one over the other," he continued. "It's just… sons tend to be rebellious by nature." He smiled faintly. "I could teach him how to protect Elena. Teach him responsibility. Strength."
His gaze drifted toward the sleeping child in his arms before lifting back to the stars.
"He'd be a dragon," Yuuta said quietly. "He'd tell me things I don't understand—about the sky, about power, about instincts." A small smile touched his lips. "Just like Elena does now."
The image in his mind seemed to deepen.
"Watching my son grow up," he went on, voice softening, "standing beside you… taking your side. Defending you."
He chuckled under his breath.
"And Elena," he added, "would definitely take my side. She'd argue with him just to protect me."
The thought clearly amused him.
"Just imagining it," Yuuta admitted, "makes me happy."
For a moment, Erza said nothing.
The wind brushed past them, carrying the scent of night flowers. The moonlight reflected faintly in her eyes as she stared ahead, as if she too was beginning to see the same future.
Then, quietly—almost naturally—she continued his thought.
"And the rest of our children," Erza said, her voice lower now, steadier, "would sit and watch us argue… like it's some kind of performance."
A faint curve appeared on her lips.
"They would laugh," she added. "They would enjoy it."
Yuuta turned to her, surprised—and then smiled wider.
"And after the fight," he said, warmth spreading through his chest, "we'd all sit together."
"At the same table," She continued, voice firm with certainty. "No matter how loud we argued."
"Yes," Yuuta said, almost like a promise. "I'll cook for them. Every one of them."
He looked down at Elena again.
"I'll remember each of their favorite meals."
Above them, the moon remained silent, watching.
Erza shook her head slowly.
Not in denial—but in regret.
Yuuta's words lingered in her chest, heavier than she expected. He spoke so freely about a future son, about laughter and arguments and warmth, never knowing that such a child already existed.
A son who would have taken her side.
A son she could never show him.
Her fingers curled into a tight fist at her side.
If only…
If Yuuta had not disappeared that day.
If he had been there—even for a single year—to raise Yuri.
Erza's chest tightened.
Yuri would not have become what he was now.
He would not have grown twisted by power and isolation.
He would not have learned strength without kindness.
He would have been exactly as Yuuta described—
rebellious, loud, protective, standing proudly at his mother's side while arguing endlessly with his sister.
Her vision blurred.
Before she even realized it, a tear slipped past her lashes.
"…Erza?"
Yuuta noticed instantly.
He shifted Elena slightly in his arms and turned fully toward her, concern clear in his voice. "Are you… crying?"
Erza startled.
She quickly turned her face away and brushed at her cheek with the back of her hand, wiping the tear before it could fall further.
"It's nothing," she said flatly, brushing at her cheek. "The air is dusty."
Yuuta stared at her for a long moment. Then he chuckled, amusement lacing his voice.
"Dust?" he said, shaking his head. "How does a dragon cry because of dust? Are you sure you're really the strongest dragon in your world?"
Erza's eyebrow lifted sharply, a challenge sparking in her violet eyes. "What do you mean by that?"
"Just—" Yuuta hesitated, then shrugged. "Just because I wasn't there in your world… maybe you're making things up."
Erza's head snapped toward him, her gaze sharp as a blade.
"What did you just say? You think I'm lying? Huh?" she asked coldly, voice low and dangerous.
Yuuta's stomach tightened at the tension, and he held up his hands defensively Elena still in one hand. "I was just teasing you, my queen. Don't be angry—"
"If you tease me one more time," Erza cut him off, crossing her arms, violet eyes blazing, "I will not let you touch me for the next fifty years."
The words struck him like a lightning bolt.
Yuuta froze. Completely. His heart thudded violently in his chest, and for a moment, he felt like he couldn't breathe.
"—W-Wait!" he stammered, panic creeping into his voice. "I was kidding! I was joking! Please… don't—don't punish me, Erza!"
A low laugh escaped her lips, soft but filled with authority. "Then you should mind your tongue, mortal. Don't forget—I am still the strongest of all."
Yuuta exhaled slowly, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Alright, you got me there. I'll admit it."
Erza tilted her head, lips twitching. "I didn't lie, though. And this is still a warning—if you make me angry, you'll lose your privilege for fifty years. Remember that."
Yuuta's eyes went wide. "Damn… you are really an evil dragon."
"I am," she said, smirking. "Idiot mortal."
Yuuta couldn't help but smile back. He still liked it—the fire, the mischief, the authority she exuded.
After a brief pause, he asked cautiously, "You asked me how many children I want… but I'm guessing you already had your own expectations, right?"
Erza's lips curved faintly. "Of course. After seeing that you're… well, fertile," she said, her tone teasing yet proud, "I set my own number."
Yuuta blinked. "How much?"
Erza didn't hesitate. "Twenty… or more."
Yuuta froze mid-breath, his face paling. "What the hell? You want me to—make a football team out of me?"
Erza's eyes narrowed, lips twitching with equal parts amusement and irritation.
"How rude! I just want to beat my ancestors' record, Seraphina—that's all," she said, her tone sharp yet playful.
Yuuta rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "Still… twenty? That's… too much."
Erza didn't waver, her violet gaze fixed on him. "I don't care if you agree or not. I will still make you father of my children. It's my legacy—to proudly carry on the name of Erza, the mother of legends."
Yuuta exhaled, surrendering to the inevitable. "Fine… I can't win. I'll agree to your record-breaking madness—but I get to name the children."
Erza's lip curled in mock disdain. "No. You are terrible at naming."
Yuuta blinked. "What do you mean I'm terrible at naming? I haven't even named one yet. How can you judge me blindly?"
"My dragon sense is telling me," Erza said, crossing her arms, "that you wouldn't name them well. So I will name them."
Yuuta scoffed, waving a hand. "Your 'sense' is talking nonsense."
Erza's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Did you just mock my sense?"
"I did," Yuuta admitted, shrugging with a grin.
"Oh really?" Erza leaned closer, voice low and teasing, "Then tell me—if I had a daughter in my womb, what would you name her?"
Yuuta's eyes softened, and he answered quietly, "Iniya."
"Iniya?" Erza repeated, her voice caught somewhere between awe and surprise.
"Iniya Kounari," he continued gently.
Her eyes widened, shining with wonder. "That's… beautiful. I didn't expect that from your mouth. But what does it mean?"
Yuuta smiled softly. "It means 'God's gift.' Proof that I can be good at naming."
Erza's lips curved into a small, impressed smile. "Okay… I guess that works. But… what if it's a boy?"
Yuuta's grin widened mischievously, and Erza's heart skipped a beat at his next words:
"Yuri."
Erza froze. Her violet eyes went wide. Her hand flew to her mouth. Panic, disbelief, and a tiny thrill coursed through her all at once.
"Y-YURI?!"
TO BE CONTINUED…