(Yuuta's POV)
I tucked Elena into bed after dinner. Her little belly was round and full, and before I could even pull the blanket up to her chin, she had already slipped into sleep.
Dragons really were like cats—eat, then nap, without a shred of worry about the world.
I sat beside her, watching her chest rise and fall. Peaceful. Untouched. My heart softened at the sight. She looked so much like Erza—the delicate face, the tiny horns, the little wings folded against her back. She was beautiful. Perfect.
But then my eyes lingered on the one thing I wished she hadn't inherited from . My cursed eye.
The thought hit like a stone in my chest.
I didn't know how her world would treat her. But here… here, I knew exactly how she would be seen. The way I had always been seen.
A devil.
My throat tightened. mories ca back, sharp and relentless, dragging into the prison I had long tried to bury.
I was a boy again. Alone in the courtyard of the orphanage.
The laughter ca first. High-pitched, mocking, circling like vultures. Then the words. Cruel. Familiar. Unforgiving.
"Look! The monster's here! Run, everyone!"
I had shouted, desperate, reaching out with tiny hands. "No, wait! I'm not a monster! I'm Yuuta—I just want to play with you!"
But their faces twisted with disgust. With fear.
"No way we'd ever let you join! Go away, Satan!"
"Yes, go away, Satan!"
The na burned worse than fire.
"I'm not Satan!" I scread, clutching my chest as if I could rip the word out. "I'm Yuuta Konuari!"
But one boy only sneered, his finger stabbing toward my left eye. "No—you're Satan. You have the devil's eye."
My hand flew up to cover it. My voice cracked, pleading. "No… Sister Mary said God loves red eyes. That's why He gave one!"
Their answer was a chorus of jeers.
"Satan deceives—just like he tricked Adam and Eve!"
"Begone in the na of Jesus!"
"Begone!"
Each word cut open. I stumbled back, tears already blurring the world. "Where would I go? I… I don't have anywhere else!"
But they didn't care.
"Go back to hell, Satan!"
The sky broke then, heavy rain crashing down as if even the heavens pitied . My sobs mixed with the storm. "Sister Mary! Sister Mary!" I cried for the only adult I thought might shield .
The rain drenched the courtyard, turning the dirt to mud. The children tried to run, their feet slipping, bodies crashing into the muck. Their screams echoed.
And when the other sisters rushed out to help, every finger turned to .
"The monster cursed us! Sisters, this monster cursed us!"
I staggered, shaking my head, my voice torn and raw. "No! I didn't! It was the rain! It was mud!"
But the sisters' eyes… those cold, silent eyes… held no rcy. No compassion. Only the quiet confirmation of their worst belief.
In their silence, they condemned .
As a Monster.
"I'm not…" My voice broke. "I'm not a monster. I'm Yuuta Konuari."
But no one listened. No one ever listened.
That night, I locked myself in my room, burying my sobs in my arms. I wept until there were no tears left. Until the world outside blurred into nothing.
Alone. Always alone.
And now, staring at Elena's sleeping face, I clenched my fists. She would never go through what I did. Never.
Even if the world called her a monster, even if it turned its back on her the way it had turned on —
I would be there.
She wouldn't face it alone.
Not while I was her father.
I tried to hold back my tears, but the weight of old mories pressed too heavily on . My chest felt tight, my vision blurred, and before I knew it, my shoulders were trembling.
And then… sothing warm wrapped around .
"Papa… are you crying?"
I froze. Elena's small arms circled my waist, her little body pressing against mine. Her voice was soft, drowsy, and innocent—so pure it shattered the storm I was drowning in.
"Elena?" I quickly wiped my face and forced a smile, though my voice cracked. "You didn't fall asleep yet?"
She shook her head, pouting as her ssy hair brushed against my chest. "I woke up… and saw Papa was crying. So Elena wants to help you."
Her words were simple, but they cut straight through . My throat tightened, and all I could do was place my trembling hand on her head, stroking her gently. "Good girl… my little dragon."
She giggled at the nickna, her tiny wings twitching proudly, as if to remind she wasn't just a child—she was my child. She didn't understand why I was crying… or maybe she did, but she didn't care. That alone was enough to make my heart ache in the best way possible.
But then… my gaze fell on her eye. The sa cursed crimson eye I had passed on to her. The one that looked as though it were bathed in blood. Anyone seeing it for the first ti would mistake her for a demon… or a vampire.
And I knew Elena hated it. Not because of how it looked, but because she had inherited it from . The very thing that had cursed my life now marked hers.
I swallowed hard. "Elena," I whispered.
"Yes, Papa?"
The words tangled in my throat, but I forced them out. "…Do you hate your eyes?"
She blinked at , tilting her head like a curious bird. Then, without the slightest hesitation, she smiled. "No. Elena likes red eyes so much."
"…Really?" My voice cracked softly, part disbelief, part hope. Deep down, I thought she was only saying it to cheer up.
But Elena shook her head firmly. "Yes. Elena loves red eyes." Then she added, almost proudly, "Mama said it's beautiful."
I froze. "…Erza… called it beautiful?"
Elena's wings twitched happily as she nodded. "Yes! Mama said Elena's eyes are like a thousand red roses blooming at once… but she also said Papa's eyes are even more beautiful."
I froze, staring at her in disbelief. "Erza… loved my eyes..?"
Her grin widened, her sleepy voice carrying a child's certainty. "Yes. Mama loves Papa's eyes so much that she even made a painting of you."
My breath caught. "…A painting? Of ?"
Elena nodded again, hugging my shirt with both hands. "Mm-hm. A really big one. Mama missed you so much, she painted you from mory. And she made your eyes the most beautiful part."
I sat frozen, my chest burning. "Erza… did that?"
"Yes," Elena said with the innocence of truth. "Mama always goes to the treasure vault at night. She sits in front of that painting for hours, just looking at it. Every single day."
Her words pierced deeper than any blade ever could. All this ti, I thought Erza's love for blood after we reunited in that apartnt. But no… she had loved long before. Loved enough to immortalize in paint. Loved enough to sit in silence with nothing but a mory of my face to keep her company.
My voice cracked. "…Wait. Elena, does that an… you knew before we t?"
She nodded again, her little eyes glimring. "Yes. Mama always took with her. She told you are my Papa. That one day, we would be together again and live happily."
I bit my lip as my vision blurred all over again. She had carried that hope with her… for so long. Erza—my cold, stubborn Erza—was terrible at showing love. And yet, she loved more deeply than I ever imagined.
Elena burrowed closer, her breath warm against my chest. "Mama also keeps your clothes in her hands and looks at the sky whenever Mama feels sad," she mumbled sleepily.
My heart stumbled. My clothes?
For a disorienting second, I thought Elena had misrembered. But then, like a door creaking open in the back of my mind, the mory snapped into place.
That night… the night Were slept together, I believed it was only a dream.
But, When I woke the next morning, my body was bare. My clothes—completely gone. I rember searching again and again, turning my cupboard upside down, even asking Sister Mary if she'd seen them. But there was nothing. I told myself I must have misplaced them, that I was being careless.
But now… I finally understood.
I hadn't lost them. I'd left them behind—on Erza's bed. And she had kept them. All these years, she held onto them as though they were sothing precious, a treasure she couldn't part with.
And here I was, foolishly believing she didn't know how to love.
"How do you know all this?" I asked, voice small with an ache I hadn't expected. It was unnerving that a child could know so much about Erza—about monts she hadn't shared. It only made sense if Erza had kept Elena with her always.
"Mama always keeps with her," Elena said matter-of-factly, as if telling the weather. "Ever Since I was attacked."
"Attacked?" The word hit like a cold splash. Elena was a princess—how could soone have attacked her? The thought was impossible and suddenly unbearably real.
Her little wings twitched as she recalled, eyes distant in the half-dark. "Yes, Papa. Once I was playing and dogs ca. They attacked out of nowhere. Mama fought them and killed all of them."
"Dogs?" I repeated, trying to anchor the image with sothing ordinary.
She shook her head. Her face grew serious eye trembling voice. "Not dogs. They had two tails and huge heads."
A chill crawled up my spine. That wasn't any dog I knew. It sounded like one of the malford beasts you read about in nightmare tales—creatures bred for war, or twisted by dark magics.
"Mama found out it was the council—one of the elders and so soldiers," Elena said with a strangely proud little smile. "So Mama killed every last one of them."
The casualness of the confession was dizzying. She spoke as though it were the most logical thing in the world—a mother protecting her child. And yet in that single sentence lay an ocean of implication.
The attacks didn't stop, she told . People kept hunting her, kept setting traps. So Erza made a decision: she would never leave Elena's side again. She carried the child with her wherever she went, even when it ant walking away from everything else.
My hands curled into fists. Nails bit into my palm, and my whole body trembled with a mix of anger and grief.
So that was the truth. Erza had been fighting constantly—not just against creatures, but against her own people. Against the elders. Against soldiers sworn to serve her, because of .
She must have known, deep down, that no matter how many she defeated, no matter how many she killed… the hatred would never end.
And so, for Elena's sake… she chose the only path left to her.
She abandoned everything.
Her throne.
Her kingdom.
Her pride.
All of it.
For Elena, For .
(Narrator POV)
Place – Elven Kingdom, Treasure Vault
The Treasure Vault of the Elven Kingdom was second only to the Dragon Kingdom in wealth and power. To the elves, it was not rely a collection of riches—it was a sacred archive. Within its walls were stored ancient weapons forged by forgotten hands, grim tos filled with forbidden knowledge, and artifacts bound by histories older than their own bloodline.
Every treasure was accounted for. Every relic was marked, catalogued, and guarded. The elves prided themselves on their vigilance, for each item was vital to the kingdom's survival.
But today, vigilance had failed.
The guards stood frozen in disbelief, their eyes locked on an empty pedestal. The air around it still pulsed faintly with lingering mana, like the fading echo of a scream. The object that once rested there—the most precious treasure of their people—was gone.
Panic rippled through them. So stumbled forward, re-checking the seals, the wards, the locks. All were intact. No intruder had broken in. No spell had been shattered. And yet… the treasure was missing.
Rushing to the palace, they delivered the report with pale faces.
When the Elf Queen heard the words, her expression hardened, though a flicker of unease shone in her eyes. She understood at once.
That relic was no ordinary treasure. It was alive. It carried its own will… its own soul.
And now, it had chosen a master.
Her breath caught, dread twisting in her chest. So… it has begun. That thing… must have followed him. Simply because he touched it—without even knowing what he awakened.
The weight of her realization settled heavy over the throne room.
The Elves had lost more than a treasure.
They had lost control of fate itself, for the prophecy had already begun.
To be continued...
Reviews
All reviews (0)