Libeus Country
Location: Konuari New Home, Nyro City
The street lay wrapped in silence.
Not the kind born from fear or nightmares—but a gentle, living quiet. The kind that only arrived deep into the night, when the world finally allowed itself to rest. Above the narrow road of Nyro City, stars blinked softly, scattered across the sky like distant lanterns, while the moon poured pale light through the windows of a single house.
It was a beautiful home.
The home of the Konuari family.
Inside, the air was still. Outside the bedroom, the hallway remained dim and tense. Allen stood there like a statue carved from shadow, his presence filling the space despite his stillness. His crimson eyes never left the bedroom door—not even for a moment.
On the sofa nearby, Elena slept peacefully.
Her small chest rose and fell in slow rhythm, her face relaxed in innocent exhaustion. She had played too much, laughed too freely, danced with the other children until her body could no longer keep up with her joy. Sleep had claimed her without warning, pulling her into its embrace before she could even reach her bed.
Allen glanced at her once—only once—before returning his focus to the door.
Tonight, he had been given absolute authority.
Anyone who dared disturb his master and mistress would not leave this house alive.
A faint, dangerous smile curved his lips as he entertained the thought. He almost welcomed the idea of an intruder foolish enough to test him. The hallway felt tight with tension, every shadow seeming ready to move at his command.
Yet beyond that door—
The story unfolding inside the bedroom was entirely different from the quiet hall outside.
Here, the air was warm—almost heavy—with emotion.
Yuuta lay on the bed, the soft sheets beneath him faintly cool against his skin. Above him, Erza leaned forward, her long hair spilling like a curtain around them. She gently held his wrists, not pinning him down, not restraining him—only anchoring him there, as if afraid he might slip away if she let go.
Moonlight filtered through the half-open window, pouring into the room in pale silver strands. It brushed across Erza's face, softened her sharp features, and turned her violet eyes into something fragile and unbearably human.
Yuuta stared at her.
She looked beautiful—so beautiful that it made his chest ache. In that quiet moment, something inside him finally relaxed. For the first time in a long while, he felt safe.
Maybe this is it, he thought.
A peaceful life. A future.
A home where I can watch my children grow.
A simple happiness.
Erza watched him in silence.
To her, Yuuta had never looked more precious. Lying there beneath her, breathing softly, looking at her with that honest, trusting gaze—it reminded her of everything she had almost lost.
Everything she had lost once.
Her fingers tightened just slightly around his hands.
I won't let you disappear again.
She leaned down and kissed him.
It wasn't hurried.
It wasn't wild.
It was slow—careful—like she was memorizing him all over again. Yuuta froze at first, surprised by the intensity behind the kiss, then gradually relaxed, responding in kind. Their breathing synced naturally, the world outside the room fading until nothing existed except warmth, closeness, and the quiet sound of two hearts beating too fast.
Time slipped by without either of them noticing.
It wasn't measured in minutes anymore—
it was measured in kisses.
The first kiss was hesitant, almost careful.
And with it, Erza's memories stirred.
She remembered the very beginning—
the moment Yuuta first entered her life, clumsy and confused, yet somehow walking straight into her fate. She remembered the way he looked at her back then, unaware of who she was, unaware of how deeply he would carve himself into her existence.
The second kiss followed, slower… heavier.
And it dragged her into pain.
Yuuta leaving.
Vanishing without warning.
No explanation.
No trace.
Nothing left behind except abandoned clothes and a silence that screamed louder than any words.
Her chest tightened even now at the memory.
The third kiss came with warmth and longing.
It carried her to the moment she finally found him again—
after years of searching, crossing worlds, enduring solitude and regret. The day she stepped into this world not as a queen, not as a dragon—
—but as his wife.
The fourth kiss trembled.
It brought back the sound of gunfire.
Yuuta collapsing at school.
Her heart stopping as she truly believed she had lost him forever. The helpless terror of holding him, unsure if he would ever open his eyes again.
The fifth kiss was darker.
Cold stone walls.
Chains.
Screams swallowed by shadows.
Allen's torture cave—
where she had watched Yuuta suffer, powerless for a moment too long, convinced she would be too late.
The sixth kiss was desperation itself.
Rushed. Shaking. Full of fear.
And the seventh—
It carried her to the staircase.
Where everything nearly fell apart.
Where fate balanced on a knife's edge.
Each memory struck her heart one after another, sharp and unforgiving.
She had almost lost him.
Again.
And again.
And again.
So many times.
Her grip tightened on him as if her body finally understood the truth her mind had been denying.
Not this time.
No destiny.
No script.
No world.
Nothing would take him away again.
She pressed her forehead against his, breath uneven, heart aching with both pain and relief.
When Erza finally pulled back, she stayed close, her forehead resting against his. Her shoulders trembled.
"Finally…" she whispered.
Yuuta blinked.
Her voice was unsteady now.
"You're mine," she said, almost desperately.
She said it again, softer, as if convincing herself more than him.
"Mine."
Another kiss followed—gentler this time—but her lips shook.
Yuuta felt something was wrong.
He lifted his head slightly and eased her back just enough to look at her face. That's when he saw it clearly—tears gathered in her eyes, clinging stubbornly instead of falling.
Erza looked away first.
Not because she wanted to hide—but because if she kept looking at him, she knew the tears would fall before she could stop them.
Yuuta noticed the silence before he noticed anything else.
"…Erza?" His voice was gentle, careful. "Why are you crying?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Her lips parted, then closed again. She drew in a slow breath, as if steadying something fragile inside her chest.
"I just…" she began, then stopped. Her fingers tightened slightly against the fabric beneath her.
"I felt like I might lose you again."
Yuuta blinked.
"I don't want you to disappear," she continued, her voice quieter now. "Not like before. Not without warning. I don't think I could endure that again."
For a long moment, Yuuta simply stared at her.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't mocking. It was the kind of laugh that came from disbelief rather than humor.
"Run?" he said softly. "Where would I even go?"
Erza turned back toward him, confused.
"This is my world," Yuuta said, more firmly now. "I was born here. I live here." His gaze met hers, steady and sincere. "Why would you think I'd leave you?"
Something in her expression cracked.
She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead—slow, lingering, almost reverent.
"Even if you did run," she murmured, half-serious, half-dangerous, "I would find you."
Her lips curved faintly.
"And I would make you my slave forever."
Yuuta stiffened.
"…Slave feels a bit extreme, you know."
Her violet eyes snapped to him instantly.
"What?" she said sharply. "Are you planning to leave me?"
"No!" Yuuta said quickly. "I never said that!"
She leaned closer, her presence suddenly overwhelming, her voice dropping into something cold and absolute.
"If you even think about running," she whispered, "I will break your legs."
A pause.
"Remember that, mortal."
Yuuta exhaled slowly, defeated before he even realized it.
"…Yes, my queen."
For a heartbeat, she held her stern expression.
Then she laughed.
Not the proud laughter of a queen. Not the cruel amusement of a dragon.
But the soft, unguarded laugh of a woman who finally felt safe.
Yuuta laughed with her.
The night slipped away quietly.
Beyond the windows, the world slept on—unaware of the small universe unfolding behind closed doors. Within that room, time softened. Words grew fewer. Touch replaced speech.
Laughter faded into whispers. Whispers into silence.
They lay close, sharing warmth beneath the pale spill of moonlight, breaths slowly falling into rhythm. Teasing smiles turned gentle. Gentle moments turned unguarded. The distance between them disappeared—not all at once, but naturally, as if it had never truly existed.
For the first time in a long while, neither feared tomorrow.
The hours passed with soft murmurs, stolen kisses, and the quiet certainty of belonging. Outside, the stars kept watch. Inside, two newly bound souls chose each other again and again, until the night finally gave way to dawn.
For now—
that was enough.
________________________________________
Late Morning
Yuuta woke slowly.
Warm sunlight filtered through the curtains, brushing against his skin. He lay still for a moment, half-naked beneath the sheets, every muscle aching in that dull, lingering way that only came after a night pushed to its limits.
His body protested when he shifted. His mind, however, was calm.
Happy.
He let out a quiet breath and smiled to himself, memories of the night before drifting lazily through his thoughts. Erza had been relentless—unfairly so—but he hadn't minded. Not even a little.
He turned his head toward the other side of the bed, expecting—hoping—to find her there. Maybe to catch her watching him. Maybe to startle her awake.
The pillow beside him was cold.
Empty.
Yuuta frowned slightly.
"…Erza?"
No answer.
For a moment, he wasn't worried. She was probably in the kitchen. She had been serious about that book—How to Be a Great Wife. The thought made him chuckle under his breath.
He pushed himself up, ignoring the ache, and headed down the hallway. He even imagined it: sneaking up behind her, surprising her with a kiss, maybe earning an annoyed glare that didn't quite hide her smile.
But the kitchen was empty.
The stove was cold. No sound. No presence.
His steps slowed.
"Bathroom?" he muttered.
Nothing.
The house felt… too quiet.
A thin line of unease crept into his chest as he checked the other rooms. Each empty space made his breathing a little heavier.
"Erza?" he called again, raising his voice just enough to carry through the house, half-expecting to hear her answer him with an annoyed remark or a lazy laugh from somewhere he hadn't checked yet.
There was no response.
Yuuta stepped out into the yard, the cool morning air brushing against his bare skin as his eyes scanned the familiar space, searching for any sign of movement, any proof that the woman he had fallen asleep beside only hours ago was still part of this world. The grass lay untouched, the soil undisturbed, and even the old tree where Grandpa's makeshift treehouse stood looked exactly as it always had—quiet, forgotten, and empty.
He checked it anyway.
Nothing.
His steps grew faster as he crossed to the garage, his heart beginning to beat harder with every second that passed without an answer. He pulled the door open, already knowing what he would find, and still felt a sinking weight in his chest when the space greeted him with silence and absence.
Empty.
No car.
No shadow.
No sign of her.
"Erza!" he shouted now, panic slipping into his voice despite himself. "This isn't funny anymore!"
The words spilled out before he could stop them, tangled and desperate, shaped more by fear than logic.
"If you're angry because I left you back then, I get it, okay?" he said aloud to the quiet world around him, his voice cracking as guilt he didn't fully understand clawed its way up his throat. "I was wrong. I know that now. But please… don't do this."
The yard did not answer him.
As he turned back toward the house, ready to tear through every room again, he heard it—a faint sound drifting down from inside, soft and small, almost swallowed by the stillness of the morning.
A voice.
Yuuta rushed back in, his chest tight with a mixture of fear and hope that made his hands tremble as he entered the living room, and that was when he finally noticed her.
A small figure lay curled up on the sofa, wrapped so completely in a blanket the same color as the cushions that she had blended into the furniture itself, invisible at first glance. He wondered, distantly, how he had missed her earlier at all.
"Elena…"
Relief crashed into him so suddenly that his legs nearly gave out beneath him, his breath escaping in a shaky exhale as he dropped to his knees beside the couch.
She was here.
She was warm.
She was real.
And if Elena was here, then Erza had to be somewhere nearby too, because that meant she hadn't taken her away, hadn't vanished into another world and left him alone. That terrifying thought collapsed under its own weight, leaving him clinging to the fragile comfort of Elena's steady breathing.
He brushed a hand over her hair gently. "Elena… did Mama go outside?"
She stirred, rubbing her eyes as she slowly woke, her face scrunching in that familiar way that always made his heart soften.
"Mmm… Papa?" she murmured sleepily.
"Yes, I'm here," he said quickly, leaning closer. "Where's Erza?"
Elena blinked up at him, confusion slowly settling into her expression as she processed his words.
"…Papa," she said hesitantly, "who's Erza?"
The relief didn't vanish all at once.
It curdled.
A strange cold spread through his chest, creeping outward as his smile faltered and his heartbeat grew unsteady.
The words landed wrong.
Very wrong.
Yuuta's heart skipped.
"…What?"
He swallowed, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I mean—your Mama."
Elena frowned, her voice growing uncertain. "But Papa… you told me Mama died a long time ago."
The room felt like it tilted.
Yuuta's breath caught.
"…What did you say?"
Elena looked up at him, her small hands clutching the edge of the blanket. There was confusion in her eyes, but beneath it lay something closer to worry, as if she sensed she had said something she shouldn't have.
"Papa," she said softly, tilting her head, "you told me Mama went to the sky. You said she became a star so she could watch us from above."
The world cracked.
Just a little.
Enough to let something cold seep through.
Yuuta stood there, frozen, the morning sunlight suddenly feeling distant and unreal.
To be continued.