"Yuri…"
The moment the name left Yuuta's lips, Erza felt her mind go blank.
For a heartbeat, the world around her faded—the moonlight, the quiet night air, even the gentle weight of peace she had been holding onto. All of it shattered at once.
That name.
The name of the son she had hidden from him.
Panic crept across her face before she could stop it. It was the same expression humans wore when a buried truth was suddenly unearthed—eyes frozen, breath caught halfway, thoughts scrambling for escape.
Yuuta noticed immediately.
He frowned, tilting his head slightly. "Erza?" he asked softly. "What's wrong? Don't you like the name Yuri?"
Erza stiffened.
For a brief moment, she said nothing. Then she forced herself to breathe, to think. Slowly, carefully, she turned toward him, her expression controlled—but not entirely steady.
"I didn't say I dislike it," she replied after a pause. "I was just… surprised."
Her gaze sharpened, studying his face as if searching for cracks in his memory.
"Why that name?" she asked quietly. "Have you heard it before? Or… seen it somewhere?"
Every word was measured. Careful. She needed to know.
Was this coincidence?
Or was something inside Yuuta beginning to remember what should not be remembered?
Yuuta, unaware of the storm raging inside her, simply smiled.
"Well," he said, scratching his cheek a little sheepishly, "whenever I'm with you, you always smell like lilies."
Erza blinked.
He continued, his tone light, almost embarrassed. "So I thought about it for a second, and the name just came to me. Yuri."
He looked at her warmly.
"In Japanese, it means lily."
The night grew quiet.
Erza's breath caught in her throat.
It wasn't memory.
It wasn't fate cracking open.
It was instinct.
Love, choosing the same answer twice.
Her fingers curled slowly into her palm as she turned her face back toward the moon, hiding the emotion threatening to spill over.
"…I see," she murmured.
But inside her chest, something trembled—equal parts relief and pain.
Because the son she had hidden…
had been named Yuri for the very same reason.
And Yuuta, without knowing it, had chosen him again.
Erza couldn't hold it in any longer.
The words had been clawing at her chest ever since Yuuta spoke that name—Yuri. A name that should have meant nothing to him. A name that should never have crossed his lips.
Her hands trembled.
"Yuuta."
Her voice came out sharper than she intended, cutting through the quiet night.
Yuuta stopped instantly. Elena slept soundly against his shoulder, her small fingers curled into his coat. He turned to Erza, eyes full of concern, as if sensing that something had shifted.
"Yes?" he asked softly. "What is it?"
Erza inhaled slowly, forcing herself to breathe. The moonlight reflected off her pale skin, but her expression was tight—conflicted, frightened, raw.
"There's something I need to tell you," she said. Her voice wavered, just slightly. "Something important."
Yuuta adjusted his hold on Elena, careful not to wake her, and gave Erza his full attention.
"I'm listening."
Her lips parted.
"Elena… she isn't our only child."
The world seemed to hold its breath.
Yuuta blinked once, his mind struggling to catch up—
And then the sky shattered.
A thunderous boom erupted overhead, followed by a cascade of brilliant light. Fireworks burst across the night, blooming in waves of crimson, gold, and deep violet. The sudden explosion echoed across the island, followed by distant cheers and laughter from the celebration below.
Erza froze.
Yuuta instinctively looked up, startled, the colors reflecting in his eyes as the sky continued to ignite again and again.
For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke.
The air filled with warmth and sound—celebration, joy, life. The island glowed beneath the fireworks, the church bells chimed faintly, and the night became alive with color.
Erza stared upward, her breath caught in her throat.
The moment she had been dreading—preparing for—had slipped through her fingers.
She had almost said it.
Almost told him everything.
Her shoulders loosened just a little as the fireworks continued, painting the sky in impossible beauty. For a brief, fragile moment, she let herself forget the weight of the truth pressing against her heart.
Yuuta smiled faintly, watching the sky. "Looks like they saved the best fireworks for the end," he said quietly.
Erza didn't answer.
She only watched the colors fade and bloom again, knowing—deep down—that fate had intervened.
Not to stop the truth.
Only to delay it.
Fireworks blossomed across the night sky, one after another, painting the darkness in gold, crimson, and violet. Their reflections shimmered faintly in Erza's eyes as she watched in silence, the wind gently brushing her hair.
Yuuta stood beside her, Elena sleeping soundly in his arms. The warmth of the moment lingered—but something about Erza's earlier words refused to leave his mind.
After a while, he spoke.
"…Erza," he said softly, careful not to wake Elena. "What were you about to say earlier?"
She didn't answer at once.
"You said Elena isn't our only child."
Erza's fingers curled slightly against the railing.
For a moment, she looked as though she might say something—then she exhaled, slow and measured, and shook her head.
"It's not time yet," she said quietly. "I'll tell you later."
Yuuta frowned. "Later? What do you mean later?"
Instead of answering him directly, Erza stepped closer. Her presence alone made him tense—too close, too sudden. She leaned toward Elena, brushing her fingers gently through their daughter's hair, her expression softening in a way only Yuuta ever saw.
Then she whispered, low and dangerous.
"Let's bring Iniya into this world together."
Yuuta's brain froze.
His eyes widened. His face flushed so fast it was almost impressive.
"W-what…?" he stammered. "H-hold on—what do you mean by that?! Isn't that a little too fast?!"
Erza straightened slowly, her violet eyes locking onto him.
"Too fast?" she repeated calmly. "No."
She turned fully toward him now, the fireworks illuminating the faint curve of her smile.
"We're already losing time," she said. "And you agreed—you want more children."
That smile deepened.
Yuuta felt it.
The danger.
Every instinct screamed at him to retreat.
"Haha…!" he laughed nervously, taking a careful step back. "Y-you know, I just remembered something!"
Erza said nothing.
Another step back.
"Something very important," he added quickly. "Extremely important. Urgent."
Her eyes followed him without blinking.
Yuuta swallowed.
"Well—Elena needs air," he blurted. "And—uh—someone needs to check the food—!"
He turned around far too quickly and walked—no, retreated—with great urgency, holding Elena as though she were his shield.
Behind him, Erza's soft laughter followed him into the night.
Amused.
Victorious.
Erza snapped her fingers—still smiling.
In an instant, Yuuta's legs froze mid-stride.
He stood there, half-turned, caught in the act of escape, Elena still cradled carefully in his arms. No matter how much he tried to move, his body refused to obey.
"E–Erza," he said quickly, panic creeping into his voice. "Wait. Elena's still with me. What if she hears something? And we can't just leave her alone—"
Erza's smile softened, almost indulgent.
"Don't worry about Elena," she said calmly. "I already prepared for her."
She stepped closer, close enough that Yuuta felt her presence before he could see her. She leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against his neck—warm, brief, deliberate.
"Watch," she whispered.
Before Yuuta could respond, Erza stepped into his shadow.
The light around them dimmed unnaturally, as if the darkness itself bent toward her will.
"Arise," she said, her voice shifting—ancient, commanding.
"Son of Verionca. Hear my call. I have recognized you."
The shadow beneath their feet began to move.
It rippled like boiling water, swelling outward, black mist curling and twisting until a form emerged. From the darkness, a figure rose and solidified—kneeling the moment his feet touched the ground.
"I have heard your call, my Mistress," Allen said, his voice reverent, unwavering.
Erza didn't hesitate.
She gently took Elena from Yuuta's arms and placed her into Allen's. Despite his terrifying presence, his hold was careful—protective.
"Take care of her," Erza ordered quietly. "Block anyone who approaches our room until afternoon. I don't want to be disturbed."
Allen's lips curved into a sharp, eager smile.
"And if someone insists?" he asked. "May I dispose of them?"
Erza met his gaze without blinking.
"Do whatever is necessary."
Allen bowed deeply. "As you wish."
With that, he stepped back into the shadows, Elena safe in his arms, his presence fading as though he had never been there at all.
The corridor fell silent again.
Yuuta swallowed.
Slowly, the spell on his legs released.
He turned toward Erza.
She was already watching him—calm, composed, violet eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
"My Queen…" he began nervously.
Erza reached out and took his hand.
Her touch was warm. Grounding.
"We're already running out of time," she said softly. "And we still have a future to build."
Yuuta's face flushed instantly.
"T–This isn't too fast?" he asked, voice cracking just slightly.
Erza smiled—sharp, confident, unmistakably dragon-like.
"Not at all."
Erza suddenly reached for Yuuta and pulled him close, lifting him with effortless strength and settling him against her shoulder. Her touch was firm, unhesitating—there was no doubt in her movement, as if she had already decided everything.
"Don't waste our precious time My Mortal," she said softly, her lips curving into a faint smile. "The night is still young… and you look quite lovely right now."
Yuuta barely had time to react before he felt something shift behind her.
The air changed.
A strange pressure spread outward, subtle at first, then overwhelming—like the world itself had paused to watch. Erza's back moved unnaturally, and with a sound both graceful and terrifying, two enormous wings burst forth.
They were dragon wings.
Pure white, vast and radiant, each feather catching the moonlight as if carved from light itself. They stretched wide, powerful and elegant, carrying an authority that could not be mistaken.
Yuuta's eyes widened.
They were beautiful.
But fear quickly followed awe.
Before he could say anything, Erza stepped forward—and jumped.
Straight off the balcony.
"Erza—!" Yuuta cried out, his heart leaping into his throat. "Don't! There are people below us!"
The ground vanished beneath them.
For a split second, Yuuta felt nothing but free fall—then Erza spread her wings.
A single, mighty beat shattered the air.
A violent surge of wind exploded downward, sweeping across the party below. Glasses rattled, decorations trembled, and guests shielded their faces as a sudden storm engulfed the balcony. Dust and light twisted together, blurring vision and sound alike.
No one saw where they went, or who was there.
High above the chaos, Erza steadied herself in the open sky, holding Yuuta securely in one arm as if this were the most natural thing in the world. The cold night wind rushed past them, carrying the scent of clouds and freedom.
She smiled—not the polite smile she showed humans, but something deeper. A smile filled with certainty and quiet anticipation.
Her thoughts were already ahead, shaping a future she intended to build—with Yuuta by her side.
Below them, the grand silhouette of the Gigal New Life Church slowly faded into the distance, its lights shrinking until it became nothing more than a memory beneath the clouds. The noise, the celebration, the people—all of it disappeared as Erza carried them away from the human world and toward the place she called their nest.
Toward home.
Yuuta clung to her without even realizing it. His arms tightened instinctively around her, his heart pounding harder with every beat as reality finally caught up to him. The cold night wind brushed against his face, sharp and undeniable, leaving no room for excuses or denial.
Somewhere between shock and disbelief, a bitter thought quietly surfaced in his mind.
I really thought she was a normal girl But he was wrong but he don't dislike it so.
Erza continued flying, her massive white wings cutting cleanly through the night sky. Each powerful stroke was steady and confident, as if the darkness itself bent out of her way. Her expression remained calm—almost peaceful—bathed in moonlight, a faint smile resting on her lips.
She looked forward, not back.
Above the sleeping world, far beyond human eyes and human concerns, the two of them moved onward together—
both smiling,
both thinking of the future—
even though that future meant very different things to each of them.
To be continued.