The Minami family had long stood as a pillar of power and influence, their reach extending across the Tsukuru Islands—a sprawling metropolis of artificial islands built in the heart of the Pacific. What had once been a bold engineering project to establish a new hub of trade and military strategy had, by 1943, become the de facto capital of the newly formed union, Dai Tōa Kyōeiken, or the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere.
Amid the shifting tides of global conflict, the Minami family cemented their control, their authority rivalled by few and feared by many. For decades, their name carried weight heavier than any government decree.
At the centre of this legacy was their only daughter—Minami Kotori.
Born into privilege, Kotori was raised not just as a wealthy heiress, but as a symbol of the Minami family's dominance. She had never known a life without protection—without an entourage of bodyguards ensuring her safety, without watchful eyes monitoring her every move. To the world, she was untouchable.
And among those tasked with safeguarding her, one figure stood above the rest—Yuya Fiolera.
Unlike the other bodyguards, Yuya was more than just a bodyguard. He was her butler, her playmate, her closest companion. Only a year older than Kotori, he had been by her side since before either of them could remember. He understood her better than anyone—her mannerisms, her habits, the way she masked her loneliness behind a polite smile.
Yuya knew everything about Kotori.
But then came middle school.
The academy enforced separate classes for boys and girls.
And just like that, Yuya was forcibly separated from his mistress.
For the first time, he couldn't be there for her.
Couldn't stand by her desk.
Couldn't shield her from overbearing people or scheming classmates.
He was forced to watch from the sidelines as Kotori entered a new phase of life—one that he wasn't allowed to be part of.
His fists clenched as frustration welled up inside him.
"Why am I not a girl?"
The words escaped in a whisper, tinged with resentment.
Had he been born a girl, he wouldn't have been cast aside like this. He could have stayed in the same classroom and continued to serve Kotori as he always had.
But fate was cruel.
And then, on the very first day of school, he saw it happen.
Kotori was smiling—laughing—while speaking with someone.
A girl.
Or at least, that's what Yuya initially thought.
The student standing beside Kotori had short hair, sharp features, and a posture that exuded confidence—traits far more reminiscent of a boy than a girl. If not for the school uniform, Yuya would have assumed Kotori had befriended a male student.
His unease deepened when he inquired about the student's identity.
"Ah, that's Miyazaki Aria," someone told him casually. "She's went to the same elementary school with me."
Something about the way they said it unsettled him.
It wasn't just him—everyone had thought Aria was a boy at first.
And that's when suspicion took root in Yuya's mind.
What if Aria wasn't a girl at all?
What if he was a boy in disguise?
The more he observed, the more certain he became.
It was too convenient.
A student with an androgynous appearance just happened to be in Kotori's class? Just happened to befriend her immediately? Just happened to be someone Kotori instantly trusted.
To Yuya, there was only one explanation.
Miyazaki Aria was a boy.
And it was painfully obvious why he was disguising himself.
He wanted to get close to Minami Kotori.
To his mistress.
To the girl Yuya swore to protect.
There was no doubt in his mind.
As the de facto captain of the royal guard protecting the princess—Minami Kotori—Yuya took it upon himself to interfere with whatever Aria was planning.
Gathering a few trusted members of Kotori's guard, he set his plan into motion—only to find his path blocked.
A boy stood in his way.
Arthur Yveone.
Yuya didn't know much about him. Arthur's presence had been subtle, almost forgettable—a quiet figure who never drew attention to himself.
But now, standing before Yuya, Arthur was anything but forgettable.
He wasn't physically imposing. He didn't have the arrogance of someone picking a fight. Yet his presence alone was enough to make Yuya pause.
There was a cold sharpness behind Arthur's golden eyes—a calculating awareness that made one thing clear:
He wasn't here by chance.
This was deliberate.
Arthur had no interest in arguing. He wasn't defending Aria with words or grand declarations.
Instead, he was stopping Yuya—efficiently, quietly, and without unnecessary conflict.
It was infuriating.
Yuya gritted his teeth.
"Step aside," he ordered.
Arthur simply tilted his head, his expression unreadable.
"Why?" His voice was soft, polite—too polite.
Yuya narrowed his eyes. "You know why."
Arthur blinked, slow and deliberate.
A pause. A test. A calculation.
Then, with the faintest of smiles, he stepped forward—not away, but closer.
"I don't think I do," Arthur said, his tone calm, almost indifferent. Yet behind those words lay a quiet challenge.
Yuya clenched his fists. He could feel it now—Arthur wasn't just here to stop him.
He was here to see what Yuya would do next.
It was a battle of wills, not fought with fists but with presence, patience, and control.
And for the first time, Yuya realized—Arthur was dangerous.
Not because he was strong.
Not because he was loud.
But because he saw everything—and he was always one step ahead.
Yuya had spent years training to protect Kotori.
But now, for the first time, he found himself facing someone he couldn't predict.
And that, more than anything, pissed him off.
He had no choice but to hold off on his plan—for now.
Yuya needed to act.
At dawn, away from prying eyes, he met with Kotori.
He confronted her directly.
"Kotori, listen to me. Aria is a boy. I know it."
But Kotori didn't flinch.
Instead, she let out a soft sigh, her expression unreadable. Then, after a moment, she smiled—not out of amusement, not out of disbelief, but as if Yuya had just proven her right about something.
"You're overthinking this, Yuya."
Her words were light, dismissive—yet there was something behind them.
No matter how much Yuya insisted, Kotori refused to believe him.
Or perhaps…
She simply didn't care.
The next day, everything unraveled.
One of Yuya's guards had reached his limit.
It happened in the cafeteria. Aria made Kotori cry and then apologized in front of everyone.
That was unacceptable.
That was the last straw.
One of the guards decided to attack.
Aria dodged effortlessly.
Another guard lunged.
Aria sidestepped without breaking a sweat.
One after another, they came after her—yet she remained unbothered, barely acknowledging them.
She even continued a casual conversation with two girls calmly eating behind her.
Meanwhile, Kotori was hiding under a table.
Then, chaos erupted.
The royal guard and Aria's loyal followers clashed.
An all-out war.
But while the battle raged on, Aria picked Kotori up and escaped the cafeteria.
Fortunately, Yuya saw it happen—and he decided to follow.
He chased after them, his pulse quickening.
Aria was fast. Too fast.
But Yuya wasn't about to let her get away.
Then—he finally caught up.
And froze.
Because what he saw was not what he expected.
Kotori was hugging Aria.
Her small frame pressed against Aria's chest, her fingers gripping Aria's uniform as though letting go wasn't an option.
Yuya's breath hitched.
His fists clenched.
And for the first time, he felt something far worse than anger.
"Miyazaki Aria!!"
Yuya shouted without thinking.
The name tore from his throat, raw with emotion—frustration, anger, and something far more dangerous.
Jealousy.
And then—the wind howled.
Because there was one thing everyone needed to know about Yuya Fiolera.
He was an Esper.
And he had the power to control the wind.
Logic should have stopped him.
Revealing his abilities in front of ordinary people was forbidden.
But at that moment—Yuya didn't care.
The jealousy had already consumed him.
And without hesitation, he let his power loose.