(Yuuta’s POV)
"No—!"
I gasped, bolting upright in bed like I’d just torn free from a nightmare. My chest heaved, lungs searching for air that didn’t seem to co fast enough. Sweat soaked the back of my neck, clinging to my shirt like glue.
Another dream.
No... another nightmare.
I sat still for a mont, trying to ground myself. My fingers clenched the blanket as I stared at the faint glow filtering through the curtains. My heart hadn’t cald down yet.
Was it always like this?
Since I gained a "family," the dreams had only gotten more vivid. Almost like the closer I got to peace... the more my mind rejected it.
I rubbed my temples and exhaled. "God... I need tea or sothing."
Eventually, I dragged myself out of bed. The wooden floor was cold under my feet, and every step felt heavier than it should’ve. My body was tired, yeah, but the weight wasn’t just physical. Sothing about last night... the festival... Fiona... Erza...
Right. I collapsed.
Guess passing out in public is a good way to get so extended dical leave from college. Silver linings?
Still groggy, I stepped into the hallway—and froze mid-step.
There she was.
Erza.
Standing by the hallway mirror, back straight, arms brushing down the fabric of a sleek, dark navy-blue uniform. Nothing fancy, but tailored just right. It frad her like a blade—elegant and sharp. Her hair was tied neatly, eyes focused, lips drawn in that usual line of hers.
I leaned against the doorway, still groggy. "...You going to war or sothing?"
She didn’t even turn around. "Interview."
My brows knit. "Interview?"
She glanced at my reflection in the mirror. "For a job."
I blinked. "Wait, you—? You’re... getting a job?"
This ti she turned, ever so slightly, one hand resting on her hip.
"You’re still recovering," she said. "We need money. What’s so strange about that?"
I blinked at her for a second, processing. "Well, maybe the fact that you were a queen in Atlantis kingdom just a year ago? That’s not exactly the résumé most Jobs are looking for."
She narrowed her eyes. "Are you mocking ?"
"No, no," I said quickly, raising both hands. "I an, I’m just surprised, that’s all. You never seed the type to... apply for jobs."
"I adapt," she said coolly. "This world demands it."
She turned back to the mirror, adjusting the collar of her uniform with the poise of soone ready for battle—not a barista gig.
But her fingers... were trembling. Just slightly.
I noticed. But I didn’t ntion it.
"My boss found out I got shot—thanks to my dear friend Sam—and now if I show up, she’s definitely going to bombard with a thousand questions. Honestly, I never expected Erza of all people to suddenly decide she’s going for a job interview."
After a pause, I asked gently, "So... where’s the interview?"
Her answer was simple. "Confidential."
I tilted my head. "So it’s secret now?"
"Just temporary work. I’ll know more when I get there."
There was a mont’s pause, and then she added softly, "Don’t worry. It’s nothing dangerous."
That was when I saw it—just a flicker. The mask slipping.
Beneath that icy calm... was nervousness. Fear, maybe. And sothing else. Guilt?
"...You don’t have to push yourself, you know," I said, stepping closer.
She kept her eyes on the mirror. "I’m not."
"You are."
I reached forward and gently touched her shoulder.
She didn’t move away. But she didn’t look at either.
"You’re already doing so much, Erza," I said. "I’m not helpless. I can still handle things around here."
"I know," she whispered.
I turned her to face . Her eyes—usually so focused—were just the tiniest bit cloudy this morning.
"You don’t need to prove anything to ," I said. "I already know how strong you are."
She blinked, lips parting slightly.
Her gaze flickered to my chest, then back to my face. Her throat moved like she was about to say sothing.
Instead, she looked away. "...You talk too much."
I smiled. "Want to shut up, then?"
"Yes."
"Too bad. I’ve got one more thing to say."
She sighed, but didn’t stop .
I leaned a little closer. "Good luck... and take care, my wife."
Her body went stiff like a statue. And for the first ti that morning—she cracked.
The cold mask shattered just enough to reveal the flush climbing her cheeks, the widening of her eyes, the panic in her voice.
"Y-You can’t say that so casually! Have you no sha, mortal?!"
I grinned. "You blushing?"
"I’m not!"
"You are."
"I... I thought you’d at least hug or sothing instead of saying it like a corny line from a drama!"
I blinked. Then softened. "Okay. Co here."
I opened my arms. And surprisingly—she stepped into them.
Slowly.
Cautiously.
Like she wasn’t sure if she deserved this.
I held her close, my hand gently resting on the back of her head.
Her voice, barely audible, whispered, "...Is this okay?"
"Yeah," I murmured. "Of course it is."
I could feel her heart. A little too fast, a little uneven.
But it was hers.
"I’ll be ho by evening," she whispered. "Don’t wait up."
"I’ll cook," I said. "Sothing simple. Sothing warm."
Her hand curled into the fabric of my shirt. She didn’t say thank you, but... she didn’t have to.
She slled like lilies. Just like always.
We stayed like that for a mont—quiet, still, like we were afraid the mont might slip away.
Then—
"Hohohoho!"
The sound shattered the silence like a brick through glass.
We both froze.
Slowly, we turned our heads toward the hallway.
Grandpa.
Cane in hand. Watching us like he was witnessing a romantic movie live.
"My, my," he said with a dramatic sigh. "So this is what morning happiness looks like. Am I dead? Is this heaven?"
Erza imdiately pulled away, her cheeks now burning.
"G-GRANDPA!"
I chuckled under my breath. "Good morning to you too, Grandpa."
"I’ll leave you lovebirds alone," he said with a wink, strolling away like so smug theater critic. "But do rember to make her lunch, young man! Won these days like effort!"
"GRANDPA!"
"Okay, well... at least let drop you off for the interview," I offered, leaning against the wall as Erza adjusted her coat.
She didn’t pause, didn’t even look at . "No need. Fiona’s picking up."
I raised an eyebrow. "Wait—Fiona? As in the Fiona? The one you used to glare at like she kicked your dragon?"
Erza smoothed her sleeves and replied coolly, "We’re on better terms now. She offered. I said yes."
I just stood there, baffled. "You’re telling the girl you once swore to ’set on fire with a gaze alone’ is now your carpool buddy?"
She turned to face then—just for a mont. Her expression unreadable, lips pressed in a straight line. "People change. So do circumstances."
And with that, she stepped toward the door.
I blinked, still trying to catch up. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with the Erza I know?"
She paused briefly at the door, as if debating whether to say sothing. But in the end, she just opened it and walked out without a glance back.
I followed her out onto the balcony, the early sun painting gold streaks across the street. From up here, I could see Fiona’s car already parked, engine idling. Erza opened the door and slipped inside without hesitation.
I leaned on the railing, arms crossed, watching them drive off.
"She didn’t even look back," I murmured.
Grandpa was already on the balcony, sipping tea like he’d been there all morning.
"She’s changed," I said without turning.
He let out a slow hum, his gaze following the car as it disappeared down the road. "That she has."
I glanced at him. "Why, though? She’s been... off. Ever since that port incident. Distant. Quiet. Like she’s trying to pull away."
Grandpa didn’t respond right away. He just stared at the horizon, his expression unreadable for once.
"...Because she loves you," he said finally.
The words caught off guard.
"She’s not good at showing it, not the way you expect," he continued. "Her love is heavy. And sotis, when you love soone too much... you try to protect them the only way you know how."
I frowned. "What’s that supposed to an?"
"If I tell you," he said, glancing at now, "you’ll try to stop her. You’ll fight it. And she knows that. So she’s making choices you don’t understand yet."
I opened my mouth to say sothing—but then closed it again. There was sothing in his eyes... sothing uneasy.
And Grandpa never looked uneasy.
So instead, I just nodded slowly. "...Alright. I’ll trust her. For now."
The door creaked open behind us, and a tiny voice yawned through the morning air.
"Papa...?"
I turned to see Elena, rubbing her eyes with a tiny fist, her hair a sleepy ss. She waddled out onto the balcony, dragging her stuffed fox by the tail.
"Where’s Mama?" she mumbled, blinking up at .
I knelt and scooped her up, planting a kiss on her forehead. "She went to a job interview, sweetpie. She’ll be back soon."
She rested her head against my shoulder, already halfway back to sleep. "Okay..."
Grandpa chuckled softly and reached out to ruffle her hair. "You alright, little demon?"
Elena let out a little yawn. "I miss Mother..."
I smiled at her sleepy honesty. "Yeah... too."
She closed her eyes, her tiny body warm and quiet in my arms. I stared past the railing, thinking about Erza. The way she looked at without looking at .
Mother Sothing wasn’t right, Like I forget sothing.
And then it hit —like a match lit in the back of my mind.
The dream.
The woman in black. The one with two horns—one broken. Her voice still echoed in my ears, like oil dripping through water.
"My child..."
She said she was my mother. But she didn’t feel like anything human. Her voice, her presence—it had crawled under my skin.
I clutched Elena a little closer without realizing it.
Grandpa must’ve noticed sothing in my face. He leaned in slightly. "Yuuta?"
I looked up, eyes unfocused. "Do you think... my mother was a monster?"
He froze.
The way his expression dropped wasn’t subtle. His lips parted slightly, then shut again. Like he was choosing every word with care.
"...Pardon?" he said, his voice low and deliberate.
I stared back at him, my chest heavy.
Grandpa’s expression changed—barely. Just a flicker in his eyes. But I caught it.
"No, I don’t think your mother is a monster," he said quietly. "Because you were born in the lab—"
He stopped. His mouth clamped shut like a lock snapping into place.
"...I an, who knows?" he added quickly, waving off his words like they were smoke in the air.
But it wasn’t smoke.
It was a spark. And it had just landed in dry grass.
"Wait, what did you just say? Born in a lab? What does that even an—"
"Papa!"
Elena’s small voice broke through the rising tension like a bell.
I turned and saw her at the door edge, rubbing her eyes, hair sticking up like a sleepy hedgehog.
"I’m hungry..."
Her little pout made forget the storm for a second.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Alright, alright. Co here, sweetpie."
She waddled over and I lifted her into my arms. She tucked her head into my shoulder, warm and soft like a small blanket that slled faintly of strawberries.
"I want pancakes," she mumbled.
"You got it, boss."
I glanced back at Grandpa, who had already turned away, pretending to be interested in a dusty old plant in the corner.
But I knew him too well.
Sothing was off.
Still, for now—I walked into the kitchen with Elena. A bit of laughter from her. A bit of warmth. I needed to hold onto it... because that dream was still clawing at the edge of my mind.
(Grandpa’s POV)
I watched as Yuuta and little Elena
disappeared into the kitchen, the sounds of pans clattering and her soft giggles trailing behind them.
I let out a deep sigh.
I’d almost slipped.
If she hadn’t called out when she did... I might’ve said too much. Too soon.
He asked about his mother—called her a monster. But how could he describe sothing like that when...?
He wasn’t born like most children.
He was created. In a lab.
He’s never seen his real mother—because she never existed, not in the way he believes. Not like how he dreams her.
That dream he had... that woman... it has to be the result of mana exposure. Ever since we co here, the air around here’s been saturated with it. Mana can play tricks on the mind—reshape mories, stir what should stay buried.
It’s the only explanation.
But if those dreams keep returning—
If they start to feel real to him...
I don’t want him chasing ghosts. I don’t want him uncovering truths he isn’t ready for. All I’ve ever wanted is for Yuuta to live peacefully. To smile, grow old... maybe fall in love with real human not monster, raise a child in the sun—not in the shadow.
But ti’s running out.
I looked up at the pale morning sky, clouds drifting quietly across the blue.
"...Erza," I murmured.
"It’s in your hands now."
Help him choose the path of peace.
Before the past pulls him back in.
To be continued...
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