Yuuta finally reached his apartment building.
He stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the familiar concrete structure that had been his home for years. It looked the same as always—slightly worn, slightly faded, nothing special.
But it didn't feel the same.
Nothing felt the same anymore.
He was so deeply troubled by the sudden turn of events. His mind replayed the scene over and over—Erza walking into his classroom, the cold silence, the way everyone stared, the whispers that followed.
She actually came.
To my college.
In front of everyone.
He never thought the Dragon Queen would appear like that. Never imagined she'd walk into his classroom and shatter whatever normal life he had left.
His reputation was ruined now. His classmates looked at him with disgust. Fiona looked at him with betrayal.
And for what?
Because of one night. One mistake. One moment he didn't even remember clearly.
---
He started climbing the stairs.
Each step felt longer. Harder. Heavier. His legs moved, but they felt like they belonged to someone else.
A sudden nervousness crawled toward his heart. Wrapped around it like cold fingers. Squeezed until he could feel every beat pounding in his chest.
What if she's angry?
What if she decides today is the day?
What if I walk in and she just... ends it?
Even though this was his home—his only home—he felt like a burden walking toward it. Like he didn't belong here anymore. Like he was just a guest in a space that was no longer his.
He couldn't run.
He had nowhere else to go.
No relatives. No family. No one who would take him in.
Just this apartment.
Just them..
Yuuta stood now in front of his apartment door, keys in hand.
A strange feeling settled in his chest.
This door had always led to silence. To darkness. To an empty space that echoed when he walked inside.
He slowly unlocked it.
The door creaked open.
Light spilled out.
Yuuta froze.
The living room was illuminated.
He distinctly remembered turning off the lights before leaving for college. He always did. It wasn't like anyone was waiting for him at home.
Or at least—
That used to be true.
Before he could process the thought—
"Papa!"
A small, bright voice rang out.
Yuuta barely had time to look up before a tiny figure rushed toward him. Elena wrapped her arms around his leg, nearly knocking him off balance.
"Papa, welcome back!" she said, her voice bubbling with excitement. "Papa, welcome back!"
She giggled as she clung to him like he had been gone for years instead of just a day.
Yuuta stood still.
For a long second, he didn't move.
He didn't speak.
He didn't even breathe properly.
What is this feeling?
It wasn't guilt.
It wasn't fear.
It wasn't anger.
It was warm.
Unfamiliar.
Overwhelming.
Family.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, Yuuta bent down and wrapped his arms around her small body. She was warm. Real. Alive.
"I'm back," he whispered, his voice softer than usual. "I'm back home, my daughter."
Elena beamed up at him like he had just given her the world.
In that small apartment—once silent and empty—something had changed.
And for the first time, Yuuta didn't feel alone when he stepped inside.
Yuuta smiled softly as he brushed Elena's hair away from her face.
"Did you wait for me, my princess?"
Elena nodded eagerly, her eyes sparkling like she had been holding onto a secret treasure all day.
"You know, Papa," she began, fidgeting slightly with the hem of her dress, "I wanted to say 'welcome back' properly… but I wasn't sure if Papa would like it or not."
Yuuta's chest tightened.
"I like it a lot," he said gently, pulling her closer. "In fact… I think I needed it."
Elena blinked, then broke into laughter, her small hands wrapping around his neck.
"Papa, carry me!" she demanded playfully.
Without hesitation, Yuuta lifted her onto his shoulders. She squealed in delight, grabbing onto his hair like reins.
"Left! Left! No, right!" she giggled, pretending to steer him as if he were some kind of horse.
Yuuta exaggerated his steps, swaying slightly to make her laugh louder. The sound filled the apartment, bouncing off walls that once knew nothing but silence.
From the living room, Erza lay stretched across the sofa, the television casting flickering light across her face.
She appeared relaxed—almost lazily so—but her posture carried an undeniable dominance. One arm rested along the back of the couch, her legs crossed with natural authority, as though the entire room belonged to her.
Technically, it did.
Her eyes were on the television.
But not really.
Every laugh. Every word exchanged between father and daughter reached her ears clearly. She did not turn her head, yet she missed nothing.
A strange feeling stirred in her chest.
It wasn't irritation.
It wasn't anger.
It was something unfamiliar. Subtle. Quiet.
Yuuta slowly walked into the living hall, Elena still perched proudly on his shoulders. He finally noticed Erza.
She looked like a queen resting after conquest.
Calm.
Untouchable.
Yuuta cleared his throat lightly, suddenly aware of her presence.
For a moment, their eyes met.
Erza did not smile.
But she did not look away either.
The atmosphere shifted—just slightly.
Between the warmth of Elena's laughter and the silent intensity of the dragon queen watching from the sofa, Yuuta stood in the middle.
Yuuta stood there for a moment after setting Elena down, watching Erza from across the living room.
The television light flickered against her crimson hair, turning it almost violet in the dim evening glow. She lay across the sofa as if it were a throne, one leg crossed over the other, posture relaxed yet commanding. Even in silence, she dominated the space.
The laughter Elena had filled the room with moments ago still lingered faintly in the air.
Yuuta swallowed.
He had meant to let it go.
He had meant to enjoy the small warmth of coming home to someone who waited for him.
But the image of her standing in his college classroom refused to leave his mind, How she ruin his image.
The whispers.
The humiliation.
The fear.
He finally broke the silence.
Still, he forced himself to speak.
"Why did you come to my college?"
His voice wasn't loud. Not yet. It carried something heavier than anger—exhaustion.
Erza did not turn.
She remained reclined against the sofa, one arm resting lazily along the backrest, her posture composed and effortless. The glow from the television flickered against her red hair, painting shifting shadows across her face.
If she heard him, she gave no sign.
Yuuta took a step closer.
"I'm talking to you."
Nothing.
The narrator on the television calmly described the fall of a forgotten dynasty.
Yuuta let out a breath through his teeth.
"Stop ignoring me."
His voice hardened.
"Do you even know what you've done to me?"
Erza adjusted slightly, crossing her legs with deliberate elegance. Her eyes never left the screen.
The indifference cut deeper than any insult.
"Because of you," he continued, taking a step closer, his voice tight with restrained anger, "they look at me differently now."
He let out a short, humorless laugh.
"They think I assaulted you. They think I have children at this age. Some of them whisper that I'm some kind of playboy—married to a beautiful woman and still chasing others." His jaw clenched. "Others just think I'm a freak."
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to steady himself.
"My career…" he muttered. "My peaceful college life… it's gone.""
He hesitated, as if the next name might wound him simply by being spoken.
"And Fiona… she's gone too."
The room seemed to grow still around that confession.
"I lost everything I struggled for."
For a fleeting second, he hoped she might respond. Even a cold remark would have been something.
But Erza remained silent.
Watching.
Listening.
Ignoring.
The quiet became unbearable.
"Are you listening to me?" he demanded, his voice rising despite himself. "Stop pretending you don't hear me!"
Still no reaction.
The sound of his own heartbeat filled his ears.
"ERZA ANSWER ME...!"
Her name rang sharply through the living room.
And then—
The air shifted.
It wasn't sudden like thunder.
It was slow.
Heavy.
Like the deep ocean beginning to stir.
Erza's eyes narrowed.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop by degrees. A faint, dark violet aura began to rise from her, almost invisible at first—like heat distortion above fire.
Then it thickened.
The lights flickered once.
Yuuta felt it before he fully understood it.
Pressure.
Not physical, but existential.
His lungs tightened. His spine stiffened instinctively. Every survival instinct in his body screamed at him to lower his gaze.
It felt like standing at the edge of a cliff while something ancient rose from the depths below.
Erza slowly turned her head.
Her White hair slid over her shoulder like flowing embers.
When she looked at him, it was no longer as a Women.
Not even as a Dragon.
It was as something older.
Higher.
"How dare you," she said quietly.
Her voice was calm—but beneath it was something vast and cold, like the crushing weight of the ocean floor.
"How dare you call me by my name… you disgusting mortal."
The aura intensified.
Yuuta's knees trembled despite his will. His vision blurred at the edges, as if his body itself rejected the idea of standing upright before her.
In that moment, he finally understood the distance between them.
She was the Queen of Atlantis.
A sovereign of a kingdom beneath the sea.
A ruler.
A being whose existence dwarfed his.
To her, he was temporary. Fragile. Replaceable.
A being who commanded forces he could not even comprehend.
And he—
He was human.
Fragile.
Replaceable.
Insignificant.
The pressure intensified. His lungs struggled to draw air, as if invisible hands were squeezing his ribs.
He dropped to one knee without realizing it.
Then—
"Mama!"
Elena's voice pierced through the room.
"Papa fighting is bad!"
The aura vanished.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
The suffocating weight dissolved like mist under sunlight.
Erza's expression did not soften, but the violence in the air receded. She looked down at her daughter.
For all her ruthlessness, for all her pride, she did not unleash her cruelty in front of Elena.
She simply couldn't.
"Next time," Erza said coldly, though her tone had lost its crushing force, "think a hundred times before speaking my name, mortal."
Yuuta coughed, finally dragging air into his lungs. His chest burned.
"I will remember," he managed, voice rough. "My Queen."
Elena had moved in front of him without hesitation, tiny arms spread as though shielding him from something she didn't fully understand.
Erza clicked her tongue in irritation.
"How can you be so weak?" she said, her gaze drifting over Yuuta with open disdain. "I do not understand how someone like you survives in this world… nor how I am expected to remain beside you."
The words stung more than the aura had.
Yuuta slowly lifted his head.
There was still fear in his eyes—but beneath it was something else. Exhaustion. Frustration. Years of being looked down on.
"You would never understand," he said quietly, each word steady despite the tremor in his body, "what it means to struggle as someone weak… unless you stand in my shoes."
Silence fell.
The temperature seemed to drop again—not from power this time, but from offense.
Erza's eyes sharpened.
"What did you say to me?" she asked, her voice thin and dangerous.
The air began to tighten once more—
But Elena stomped her foot.
She puffed her cheeks and marched directly between them, raising both hands like a tiny wall.
"Mama bullying Papa is bad!" she declared loudly. "If Mama is mean, Elena will never talk to you!"
The words were childish.
Simple.
Yet they landed with undeniable force.
Erza froze.
For a brief second—so brief it might have been imagined—something flickered in her expression.
Not anger.
Not dominance.
Something quieter.
She turned away abruptly and crossed her arms.
"Tch."
Without another word, she returned to the sofa and sat down stiffly. The television continued playing a documentary about ancient civilizations on earth and lost Alexander empires, the narrator's calm voice filling the silence she left behind.
But the volume was lower than before.
Yuuta remained kneeling for a moment, catching his breath.
Elena turned around and wrapped her arms around him.
"Papa okay?" she asked softly now.
Yuuta looked at her small face—so earnest, so unaware of the storm she had just stepped into.
He smiled faintly and pulled her close.
"Papa's okay," he whispered.
Across the room, Erza kept her eyes on the television.
Yet she was not truly watching it.
For the first time since Yuuta had stepped into the apartment, the invisible clash between ruler and commoner came to a halt—
Not because one overpowered the other.
But because a small pair of hands stepped between them.
"Papa… are you okay?"
Elena's voice was soft, genuinely confused. She looked from Yuuta to Erza as if she couldn't quite understand why the air had suddenly grown so heavy.
Yuuta was still kneeling, his lungs slowly recovering from the suffocating pressure of Erza's aura. He forced himself to straighten, even if only a little. He didn't want her to see him shaken.
He gave Elena a small, tired smile.
"Of course I'm okay," he said gently. "Sorry you had to see me like that. You must feel embarrassed… seeing your father so weak."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Elena's expression changed instantly. She grabbed his hand with surprising firmness for someone so small.
"No, Papa," she said, shaking her head. "Elena's Papa is not weak."
She glanced toward the sofa, then leaned closer and whispered as if revealing a great truth.
"It's just Mama is super strong."
Yuuta blinked at her.
Then he laughed.
Not bitter. Not forced.
Just… human.
"Ah," he nodded. "That's one way to look at it."
He studied her face for a moment. The way she found brightness in everything was almost magical. Where he saw humiliation, she saw difference. Where he saw weakness, she saw balance.
Yuuta knelt on the floor, watching Erza silently.
His mind was still tangled—unable to make sense of why she had appeared at his college. She hadn't answered him. And he had crossed a line calling her by name.
But more than that, he didn't understand why she cared enough to come at all.
Elena noticed his expression. The way his brows stayed furrowed. The way his eyes kept drifting toward the sofa.
"Papa?"
Her small voice pulled him from his thoughts.
Yuuta looked down at her.
"Papa," she said softly, "Mama always does unexpected things. She's not a bad mama." Her red eyes searched his face with worry. "Are you angry with her?"
Yuuta's chest tightened.
He forced a small smile.
"Well… I'm not angry," he said, trying to sound reassuring.
But the question still burned in his mind.
Why did she come?
Elena tilted her head, then spoke innocently.
"Papa, did you know? You're the first person who speaks boldly to Mama."
Yuuta blinked.
"Mama kills anyone who even speaks a little louder," Elena continued, her face saddening slightly. "I think… Mama is sad."
The words hit him differently than he expected.
He looked toward the sofa. At Erza's silhouette against the television light. At the way she sat alone, even in a room with others.
She endures my bold talk because of the promise. Because she has to treat me as an equal.
But still… she has a heart.
And the way I acted… maybe she felt something too.
He didn't know if that was true. Didn't know if he was projecting. But the thought settled in his chest like a small, fragile hope.
Slowly, he rose to his feet.
His legs still felt slightly unsteady, but he walked toward the sofa anyway.
Each step felt heavier than it should have. Not because of fear this time—but because of something else. Something he couldn't name.
He stopped beside her.
Erza did not look at him.
Her attention appeared fixed on the screen, though he had the faint impression she was listening to every breath he took. The documentary murmured on—something about ancient civilizations, forgotten empires, lost wars.
Yuuta stood there quietly for a moment before speaking.
"I'm sorry."
His voice was calm now. Genuine.
"Truly. For yelling at you."
No reaction.
The television continued its steady narration.
He swallowed.
"I was angry. I spoke without thinking." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "And without understanding your position. Given your status… I'm truly ashamed."
The apology lingered between them.
For a few seconds, there was nothing but the low murmur of the television and the faint hum of the city outside the window. Yuuta began to think she would ignore this too.
Then—
Erza spoke.
Coldly.
Quietly.
"You ruined my image in my kingdom. I ruined your image in your college." Her voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. "So we are equal."
She paused.
"And I never said I would not interfere in your life. Did I?"
Yuuta's mind went blank for a moment.
Then something inside him hardened.
He had walked over here thinking—foolishly, he realized now—that maybe there was something beneath the ice. That maybe Elena was right. That maybe Erza was sad, or lonely, or capable of feeling something beyond cold calculation.
But no.
She was exactly what she had always been.
A ruthless monster.
A queen who saw him as property.
A being for whom warmth was a weakness and kindness was a flaw.
And that was what made her different from him.
I was an idiot to think otherwise.
He straightened. His expression shifted—not to anger, but to something more distant. More controlled.
"Yes." His voice was even. Calm. "You are right."
He took a step back.
"I'm sorry to bother you."
Then he turned and walked away.
Erza's eye followed him for just a fraction of a second before returning to the screen.
But something in the room had changed.
The silence between them was no longer just heavy.
It was cold.
Colder than before.
Elena watched from the corner, her small face troubled.
She didn't understand grown-up words. Didn't understand why Papa's shoulders looked so stiff, or why Mama's hands were gripping the edge of the sofa just a little too tightly.
But she understood one thing.
Something was broken.
And she didn't know how to fix it.
TO BE CONTINUED