(Yuuta's POV)
"Phew…" I muttered, finally locking the bedroom door.
Imdiately, Erza's furious scream pierced the air from the other side.
"What the hell are you doing, you stupid mortal?!"
I rolled my eyes. "Just… keep an eye on Sister Mary until we're done!"
Elena puffed out her tiny chest, eyes sparkling with excitent. "Yes! Mama, Papa, and Elena will make a surprise gift!" she declared proudly, giggling.
I couldn't help but smile. "Alright, little chef. Let's make the best farewell dish ever before she leaves."
"Yes, Papa! Elena is ready!" She puffed her cheeks like a warrior preparing for battle, hopping in my arms.
Then my gaze drifted to Grandpa, standing silently on the balcony. His expression was heavy, the sa troubled look he'd worn ever since I woke up from my injury. I sighed. Guess I need to make sothing special for him too…
And just when I thought about what to cook next, I saw my finger it has many scare then a dark mory flared up. That demon—Xemon. The re thought sent goosebumps crawling down my spine. He was… terrifying. Hellish, even. I could still feel the icy grip of fear from that day. Damn… I almost got a taste of hell.
I slapped my own cheek, shaking off the thought. "Focus, Yuuta. This is for Sister Mary. Not for demons or nightmares."
With Elena perched on my hip, puffing up her little chest proudly, I marched into the kitchen. Our mission was simple: make a farewell dish that would make her smile… and maybe, just maybe, leave a little warmth behind for everyone else too.
(Erza's POV)
The room was wrapped in silence, heavy and unmoving. I sat on the bed, arms folded tightly, while Sister Mary occupied the desk chair across from . That fool Yuuta had actually locked the door from the outside—claiming he wanted to prepare a "farewell surprise" for her. As if that justified shutting us in like prisoners. He even had the nerve to tell to "keep an eye on her," as though she might vanish into thin air the mont I blinked.
"Tch… what nonsense," I muttered under my breath, scowling at the locked door.
At my complaint, Sister Mary let out a small laugh. It wasn't sharp or mocking—it was soft, almost fragile. A sound that sohow carried warmth, even though sorrow clung to her like a second skin.
"He used to do this often," she said gently. "Back in the orphanage. Whenever he learned a new recipe, he would lock in a room and then bring it in proudly, insisting I taste it before anyone else."
I blinked, staring at her in disbelief. "This guy… he's a complete psycho, Sister Mary. How can he just lock doors like that? He seriously doesn't know how to respect won."
At my complaint, Sister Mary let out a small laugh.
I turned to look at her.
That smile she wore—it wasn't the strained one I'd seen her force in front of others. This one was tender, genuine, born from mories she still held close. For a mont, I saw her not as the elf who had raised Yuuta, nor as the woman preparing to leave him… but as a mother, cherishing her son in her own quiet way.
Sothing shifted in my chest, and before I could stop myself, I spoke softly.
"…Sister Mary. You may remove your blindfold. No one else will see here."
Her fingers stilled in her lap. They trembled faintly, as though she weighed the risk of showing what she had hidden for so long. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she reached up and untied the knot.
The cloth slipped away.
My breath caught.
I had seen elven eyes before. They were supposed to shine like starlight—clear, radiant, alive with the purity of their mana. I had once thought them beautiful enough to humble even a dragon.
But hers… hers were dim.
The faint glow flickered, weak and uneven, like a fla struggling against the wind.
"…Your eyes," I whispered, unable to contain the ache tightening my chest. "They are fading."
Her lashes lowered, as though ashad to et my gaze. Yet not before I caught that shimr—fragile, stubborn, refusing to surrender.
"The mana here, my queen," she said, her voice quiet and brittle, "is not pure. Not as it is in our world."
My brows furrowed. "Not pure?"
She nodded faintly. "This world's mana is… corrupted. Heavy with human emotions—greed, hatred, despair. For elves, it is poison. To live here is to wither, piece by piece."
Her words fell into the silence like stones sinking in water, dragging everything down with them.
"So that is why you must return," I said at last. My voice ca out sharper than I intended, but I did not correct it. "Even with Yuuta here."
Her lips curved faintly, but there was no joy in it. It was a smile of surrender, weary and bittersweet.
"Yes, my queen. If I remain… my sight will vanish completely. And after the eyes, my hearing will follow. Then… little by little… I will fade away."
I stared at her, at those flickering eyes that had once been radiant. Unlike dragons, elves were fragile in strange, cruel ways. We could bend, adapt, reshape ourselves to survive. But elves—elves were too pure. They could not bend without breaking.
And yet… she had endured.
I rembered the first ti I saw her—at Yuuta's college festival. I had thought it impossible that a pure elf still lived in this world. Surely, I told myself, she must be half-blood. For no true elf could survive long away from the mana of their holand.
But she had.
Year after year, she endured the poison of this world. She let her body weaken, her senses dim. She chose to break, quietly and painfully… all for the sake of the boy she raised.
My hands curled into fists in my lap. For all my strength as Dragon Queen, for all my titles and power, I could not ignore it—
It was she, not I, who had borne Yuuta's weight. She who had given everything, piece by piece, so he could live.
And the heaviness in my chest grew until it felt almost unbearable.
I shook my head and t her gaze without wavering.
"Sister Mary… thank you," I said, my voice quieter than I intended. "For raising him. For protecting him when no one else would. Without you, this fool—my fool—would not have lived long enough for to ever et him."
The words hung in the air.
Her eyes widened, and almost at once she shook her head, the movent sharp, almost panicked. "Please… my queen. Do not speak so. Do not lower yourself before . I am not worthy of such thanks."
Always that distance. Always that wall between us.
I felt a faint ache in my chest. No matter how gently I spoke, she still saw as a queen before she saw as a woman. As if my bloodline stood between us like a blade.
"No," I said firmly, though not unkindly. "You carried a burden even a dragon would hesitate to shoulder. You raised Yuuta in a world that did not welco him… nor you. You endured scorn, hunger, fear. You bore it all, and still you gave him love. That is not sothing I can ignore."
Her lips parted slightly, but she did not answer. I leaned closer, holding her gaze so she could not retreat into silence.
"If there is anything you need," I said, steady as steel, "I will repay you. I swear it under a Dragon Mate Oath."
The mont the words left my mouth, the room changed. The air grew heavy, as if unseen flas licked the walls. A promise like that was not empty breath—it carried the weight of dragon law, binding and eternal.
Her entire body went still. She stared at as if I had struck her. For a heartbeat, I thought she had stopped breathing.
"…O… Oath?" Her voice trembled. "My Queen… you… this is too much. You cannot—"
But I did not look away. Dragons never speak oaths lightly, and I was no different.
"The Dragon Mate Oath," I explained, each word deliberate, "is the highest gratitude my kind can offer. When the life of one's mate is preserved by another, we entrust our bond to that savior. It ans you may ask anything of . Reveal any secret, demand any price… and I will honor it. Without hesitation. Without betrayal."
Her hands clenched tightly in her lap. I could see the conflict in her eyes—part fear, part disbelief, part sothing softer that she dared not show.
"…Can we," she whispered at last, so softly I almost missed it, "can we just… speak casually? Like… like sisters?"
The words startled more than the silence that followed.
"…Pardon?"
Her cheeks flushed faintly, and she quickly waved her hand, flustered. "No, no—forget I said that. Please disregard it, my queen. I spoke out of turn."
For a long mont I simply stared at her. Then, before I could stop myself, a small laugh escaped —quiet, genuine. So even after years of suffering, even after all the strength she had shown… she could still stumble over sothing so small.
"I understand," I said gently. "Our ages are not so different. The only thing that separates us is blood—mine descended from Seraphina, yours from the elves. That is why you hesitate, isn't it? Why you flinch even to touch . You see the queen, not the woman."
Her silence was an answer in itself.
I softened my voice. "Then let us do as you wished. Just this once, we will speak not as dragon and elf, but as sisters." I tilted my head, letting the faintest smile curl my lips, though my tone carried the weight of iron.
"But rember this—whatever you ask, I will repay you. No matter what it takes. I will not refuse."
"Really? I can… speak casually?" Sister Mary's voice trembled as though she were testing forbidden ground.
Her eyes shone with sothing fragile, sothing that reminded of Yuuta . Hope, mixed with disbelief.
I tilted my head slightly. "Yes… casually. If that will ease your heart."
The effect was imdiate. Her lips parted in a smile—hesitant at first, then blooming wider, like a flower long deprived of sunlight. She leaned forward, almost girlish in her eagerness.
"Then—then I must ask! How did you et Yuuta? And Elena… how is she already four years old when Yuuta is twenty? I've wondered about this for so long."
Her words spilled out in a rush, unpolished, without the careful reverence she always carried when speaking to . For once, she was not Sister Mary the elf, nor a servant addressing her queen. She was simply a woman—curious, earnest, desperate for answers.
I lifted a hand, my voice gentle but firm. "Calm yourself Sister Mary. One question at a ti."
She pressed her lips together, exhaling slowly, though her eyes still sparkled with restrained excitent. "Forgive my queen… I just never thought I would be allowed to speak with you like this. To hear… what really happened between you and him."
Her words stirred sothing in . I hesitated, then let the mory wash over , vivid as fla.
"I was confused too, the first ti we t," I began softly. "This mortal… appeared out of nowhere. In my chamber, of all places. Where none should have been able to set foot."
Mary's brows furrowed, disbelief plain on her face. "But the queen's chambers… they're sealed with the highest wards. No being could ever—"
"I know," I interrupted gently. "And yet, he was there. Mumbling nonsense about dreams and fantasies, staring at the walls as though he'd stepped into a storybook. I had been drinking that night. My senses were dulled, my guard lowered. For a heartbeat, I thought he was just an illusion."
Her hand lifted to her lips, covering her surprise.
Heat crept into my cheeks despite myself. "Before I could question him, he… smiled at . Without hesitation, the fool leapt onto my bed, laughing as though it were the most natural thing in the world. And then—he began undressing."
Mary's gasp was sharp, scandalized. "I am Sorry My queen,This… this insolent brat! To dare such a thing before the Queen of Atlantis—!"
I laughed harder, though my cheeks burned red. "He must have thought it was just a dream, so he didn't feel guilty. At first, I tried to push him away—tried to decide if I should kill him. But then… I saw his face. That foolish, handso face. And for so reason… I couldn't. I let him do as he pleased."
Her voice softened, her shock fading into wonder. "It must have been love at first sight, My queen."
I tilted my head back slightly, a laugh escaping . "Maybe… maybe it was. I didn't understand it then. But after it was over, he held . His arms around , warm and steady. In that mont, I was not a queen. Not a dragon. I was only a woman. And for the first ti in my long life… I felt whole."
Silence pressed between us, heavy yet gentle.
Mary's eyes shimred, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words ca.
I drew a breath, forcing a faint smile. "And then… he was gone. Vanished as suddenly as he had co, leaving only his clothes behind."
Mary frowned deeply, confusion shadowing her face. "How… how could that even be? To enter Atlantis and vanish in an instant…"
I let out a quiet sigh, shaking my head as mories flooded back. "In the beginning, I searched for him. I thought… perhaps he was a lowly dragon who had sohow slipped past the wards, soone who didn't even know who I was. But no—he wasn't a dragon. I could tell the mont I slled his clothes. It was a strange scent, one I couldn't place. So I began digging. I read countless ancient texts, sat with the elders, demanded answers from anyone who might know."
I closed my eyes briefly, recalling those restless nights. "The explanations were all absurd. So claid it was a universe slip—where dream and reality collide for an instant, allowing soone to cross worlds by mistake. Others said it was fate itself. Both sounded ridiculous, so eventually… I gave up. I told myself to forget him. But in my heart, no matter how much I tried… I always longed for him at my side. I don't even know why. I just… did."
I drew in a long breath, steadying myself, though my fingers betrayed my nerves as they twisted tightly in my lap. When at last I raised my eyes to Sister Mary, the words ca in a quiet tremor.
"…And then… I found out I was pregnant. With twins."
For a mont, silence hung heavy. Then her eyes widened, disbelief flashing across her pale face. "Pregnant? But… how? That's impossible. Dragons don't… they don't bear children like humans, do they?"
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I covered part of my face with one hand, a nervous laugh escaping . "No, no… you misunderstood, Sister Mary. I did not conceive as humans do. I… I laid eggs."
Her lips parted slightly. She blinked, as though she hadn't expected such a blunt confirmation. Then, slowly, she nodded, murmuring almost to herself, "I see… then it truly is possible."
Her gaze softened, but a different question soon clouded her features. "But, my queen… you just ntioned another child, didn't you? Soone apart from Elena."
My heart clenched. My fingers stilled, curling against my skirts. "…Yes. Yuuta has another son."
The words seed to strike her like a sudden gust of wind. She leaned forward, voice low but urgent. "Another son? Where is he now?"
I swallowed hard, the weight of that truth pressing against like chains. "Forgive , Sister Mary. It is better… if I don't speak of him now."
Her brows lifted, but she did not press. Instead, she reached across the small space between us, her hands closing warmly around mine. "I understand," she said, her voice soft, unwavering. "When the ti is right, you will tell ."
I looked up at her, my throat tight. "…Thank you. One day, I promise, I will."
Her smile was faint but steady, her touch grounding . "Everyone carries secrets, my queen. So are too heavy to share until the world is ready for them. I will not force yours."
The kindness in her voice nearly undid . My eyes dropped again, shadowed by guilt. "You must understand why I hide him Sister Mary. My son… he is not like Yuuta. He is ruthless. Unfeeling. Violence runs through him as easily as blood. He is what I once was, before I t Yuuta. Even I… even I am afraid of him."
Sister Mary stayed silent, though I saw her hands tense ever so slightly over mine.
I forced myself to continue, the confession dragging itself from my chest. "He already despises Yuuta—though he has never t him. He resents him for giving him mixed blood instead of pure royal lineage. He was born with black hair… cursed, many would say. And for that, he hates his father's existence."
Her expression faltered, troubled. Her voice, when it ca, was careful. "I… I see. To keep father and son apart… it feels like such a cruel thing. Almost… sinful." She lowered her eyes quickly, as though ashad. "Forgive , my queen. I spoke out of turn."
I shook my head, forcing a small, bitter smile. "No. You're right. What I have done—it is a sin."
Her grip on my hands tightened gently. "No… I believe you acted as only you knew how. I have heard of the fury of dragons, how blind their wrath can be. Perhaps… you only did what was necessary to protect them both."
Her words were kind, but they could not soothe the ache inside . "Yes… his rage frightens . He carries Yuuta's blood, yet he is nothing like Yuuta. And that contradiction—it terrifies . Back then, I didn't know much about Yuuta, but one thing was certain—my heart kept whispering that I should hide it from Yuri. So I could not bring him here, not yet. So I lied, thinking it would protect them both. But… I never knew he was already surrounded by lies, by circumstances I could not control."
The silence that followed was long and heavy. I felt it press against my ribs until my breath shook.
At last, I whispered, "…I love Yuuta more than life itself. But the thought of what our son may beco… chills to my very core. He has the power to destroy anyone, and no one has ever taught him rcy. That failure… it is mine to bear."
Sister Mary said nothing, her gaze steady, her patience unyielding. She held my hands as though anchoring against the tide.
"I only pray," I breathed, "that one day… he learns what it ans to be human. To love, to forgive, as Yuuta once taught . Until then… this burden remains mine alone."
A stillness settled in the room, so thick it was as if the air itself feared to stir.
Then, in a voice almost hesitant, Mary asked, "…May I at least know his na?"
For a mont I hesitated, the truth bitter on my tongue. At last, I exhaled, letting it fall into the quiet.
"…Yuri Konuari."
To be continued…
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