Yuuta sat in the corner of his own living room.
Even though this was his home—the place he paid rent for, the space he had lived in for years—he couldn't feel free here anymore. Every breath felt measured. Every movement felt watched. The walls that once held only his loneliness now held something far heavier.
He wanted to communicate with her. To understand why she had come to his college. To maybe, just maybe, build something that resembled a normal relationship between two people sharing a space.
But she was cold.
Every time he tried to speak, she insulted him. Mocked his efforts. Reminded him of how insignificant he was in the grand scheme of her existence. The words stung more than he wanted to admit, not because they were cruel, but because they were true. He was insignificant compared to her. A mortal. A human. A temporary flicker in her eternal flame.
It made him more depressed than he cared to acknowledge.
So he had stopped trying.
But he couldn't ignore her forever. They lived in the same space. Breathed the same air. Shared a daughter who looked at both of them with those innocent red eyes, expecting them to figure this out.
And that question still burned in his mind like an ember that refused to die.
Why did you come to my college?
If he wanted an answer, he needed to build something first. A bridge. A connection. Even a small one. Even a fragile one.
So he took the first step.
Yuuta stood quietly for a while, watching Erza watch television.
The glow from the screen reflected in her crimson eyes as scenes of human history flickered across the room—wars fought with swords and shields, inventions that changed the course of civilization, revolutions that toppled kings. She looked almost invested in the documentary, her expression calm and focused in a way he rarely saw.
He didn't understand it.
Why would a dragon queen care about documentaries narrated by humans? What interest could she possibly have in the brief, chaotic history of creatures she clearly viewed as beneath her?
Across the room, Elena was busy rearranging cushions and humming to herself, occasionally glancing between her parents as if monitoring the emotional weather. Her small hands moved pillows from one end of the sofa to the other, creating forts and structures that made sense only to her.
Then something clicked in Yuuta's mind.
He straightened slightly, an idea forming.
"Wait a second… Your Highness?"
Erza did not respond. Her eyes remained fixed on the screen, watching a segment about the fall of the Roman Empire with an intensity that suggested she was memorizing every detail.
Yuuta clenched his hand at his side, then tried again.
"My Queen?" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I know you're ignoring me, but I need to ask something. Remember the promise you made? About treating me as an equal?"
This time, she actually looked at him.
Her violet eye swept over him with mild annoyance, but beneath it, there was something else. Curiosity, perhaps. Or simply the acknowledgment that he had invoked their agreement.
"What is it now?" she asked, her voice carrying irritation but none of the killing intent from earlier. No ice formed in the air. No pressure weighed down on his shoulders. Just the normal annoyance of someone interrupted during their show.
Yuuta frowned, genuinely puzzled by what he had observed.
"Something's been bothering me," he said, gesturing toward the television. "How are you using human technology without getting shocked? I mean, you're just… sitting there, using the remote, watching TV like you've done it your whole life."
Erza blinked at him.
For a moment, she seemed genuinely surprised by the question, as if the thought had never occurred to her that this might be unusual.
"What do you mean, shocked?" she asked, her head tilting slightly. "Why would I be shocked?"
"I mean…" Yuuta gestured more broadly now, trying to find the right words. "This machine runs without magic. There are no runes carved into it, no mana flowing through its circuits. Just electricity. Basic human technology that most people need years to understand. And you're using it like you were born here."
Erza studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable.
Then—slowly—something shifted at the corner of her lips.
A smile.
Not mocking. Not cruel. Not the predatory smirk she wore when threatening someone.
Something else.
Pride.
"Do you forget who we are?" she asked, and her voice carried a weight that made the question feel rhetorical.
"Dragon," Yuuta answered cautiously, unsure where this was going.
"As I expected." She leaned back against the sofa cushions, her posture relaxing in a way he had never seen before. "You truly know nothing about dragons. Not even an inch."
Her tone carried a faint superiority, yes, but it wasn't meant to wound this time. It was almost educational, as if she was explaining something fundamental to a child who simply hadn't learned yet.
"We are born with a dominant nature," she continued, her gaze drifting toward the television but her attention clearly on him. "Adaptation is instinct to us. When environments change, we change faster. That is how dragons survive eras while lesser beings crumble into dust."
Yuuta tilted his head, processing this information.
"So you're telling me that you just… analyze something and then instantly know how to use it?"
"Yes." The word was simple, certain, absolute. "I observed how this device works. I watched the patterns of light and sound. I studied the structure of the remote, the way pressing different buttons produced different results. I adapted. In my world, civilizations rise and fall in the span of a single dragon's nap. We survive because we understand before others do."
Yuuta stared at her, his mind struggling to comprehend.
That sounded absurd.
And terrifying.
"So you're telling me," he said slowly, leaning forward with genuine fascination, "that you can just look at something—anything—and master it? Without practice? Without failure? Without any of the struggle normal people go through?"
She crossed her arms confidently, a gesture he was beginning to recognize as her victory pose.
"I could study your entire human civilization within a year," she said calmly, as if discussing the weather. "Every language. Every technology. Every history. Every art. And I would master it all."
Yuuta's brain short-circuited for a second.
That's not adaptation.
That's cheating.
It felt like watching artificial intelligence evolve in real time—observe, process, dominate. That was Erza. A being designed by nature itself to conquer change, to bend new environments to her will, to survive anything the universe could throw at her.
Then another thought struck him.
His eyes widened with sudden excitement.
"Wait a minute." He stepped closer, his voice rising with hope. "Does that mean you can read my cooking operation manual? The big one? The really thick book with all the complicated techniques and chemical explanations and temperature charts?"
Erza glanced at him from the corner of her eye, one eyebrow raised.
"Of course I can."
"You mean you can actually understand it? Like, really understand it? Not just read the words, but comprehend the techniques and why they work?"
"If I choose to devote my attention to it, yes." Her tone suggested this was the most obvious thing in the world. "The information is not complex. It is merely extensive."
Yuuta's face lit up like a child discovering fireworks for the first time.
"That's incredible," he said honestly, unable to hide his amazement. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to understand even half of that book? Months. Actual months of studying and practicing and failing and trying again. And you could just… look at it and know?"
She gave him a look that hovered somewhere between superiority and amusement, but there was something else beneath it too. Satisfaction, perhaps. Or the simple pleasure of being appreciated for something she had always taken for granted.
"That," she said calmly, lifting her chin with quiet, unmistakable pride, "is the difference between mortal effort and draconic superiority."
Yuuta stared at her for a long moment, something warm settling in his chest.
Not love. Not affection. Not even attraction.
Just surprise.
Genuine, honest surprise.
She actually talked to me.
Like a real person.
She explained something. Shared knowledge. Didn't insult me once.
"I'm surprised," he said quietly, almost to himself. "You can chat with me like this. I find myself… pleased."
Erza froze.
Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, her composed mask slipped.
She realized what had happened.
She had just gone with the flow. Without thinking. Without guarding. Without her usual walls and defenses and layers of cold indifference.
She hadn't talked this much in her whole life—not casually, not freely, not without purpose. And here she was, conversing with a mortal like he was…
Like he was someone.
Her expression shifted rapidly, the walls slamming back into place with visible force.
"You." Her voice sharpened, accusatory. "Stop using spells on me."
Yuuta blinked in confusion. "What? What spells?"
"Or else I will kill you where you stand."
He raised both hands immediately, palms open in surrender.
"I didn't use anything! I swear it! Trust me, I'm a normal human being. I don't have spells. I don't have magic. I don't have anything except culinary skills and a lot of student debt."
Erza's eyes searched his face intently, looking for deception, for trickery, for anything that would explain why she had let her guard down so completely.
She found nothing.
Just confusion. Just sincerity. Just a mortal who had no idea what he was doing to her.
"Then why," she said slowly, more to herself than to him, "did I have a conversation with you? I usually avoid talking. I have avoided talking for centuries."
Yuuta was completely clueless. He shrugged helplessly, his shoulders rising and falling in a gesture of genuine bewilderment.
She clicked her tongue in frustration, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
"Don't talk to me unless you're dying." Her voice was cold again, controlled again, the walls firmly in place. "Is that understood?"
Without waiting for an answer, she turned back to the television, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her posture rigid.
But something in the air had changed.
Yuuta stood there for a moment, watching her profile against the flickering light of the screen.
She was confusing.
Cold one moment. Conversational the next. Furious after that. He couldn't keep up with the emotional whiplash, couldn't predict what version of Erza he would encounter from one moment to the next.
But beneath it all—
He had seen it.
Just for a moment.
A crack in the ice.
He didn't know what it meant.
Didn't know if it meant anything at all. Could have been his imagination, wishful thinking, the desperate hope of someone grasping for connection in an impossible situation.
But for the first time since she had appeared in his life, destroying everything familiar and comfortable—
He felt like maybe, just maybe, there was something human beneath the dragon.
Elena peeked from behind the cushions she had been rearranging, then tugged at Yuuta's sleeve with her small hand.
"Papa," she said softly, her red eyes looking up at him with innocent urgency. "Elena is hungry now."
As if on cue, her small stomach made a sound—a tiny, audible rumble that carried through the quiet room.
Yuuta blinked, then looked at the clock on the wall. He had been so caught up in the tension with Erza, so focused on navigating the impossible situation with the dragon queen, that he had completely forgotten about dinner.
He bent down to Elena's level, his expression softening immediately.
"Are you hungry, my princess?" he asked gently.
Elena nodded with exaggerated enthusiasm, her silver hair bouncing with the movement.
"Alot! I am super hungry, Papa!"
Yuuta smiled, then an idea sparked in his mind.
"Do you like steak?" he asked.
Elena's eyes went wide. Her mouth dropped open in pure, unfiltered excitement.
"Steak? Really? Steak is here on Earth too?"
Yuuta blinked at her reaction, genuinely surprised.
"Wait, you have steak in your world? In Atlantis?"
Elena nodded happily, her small hands clasping together.
"Of course, Papa. It's so delicious and rubbery. Mama's steak was super good."
Yuuta's smile froze in place.
His brain processed the words slowly, as if each one needed to be examined individually before he could accept their meaning.
"Mama's steak?" he repeated carefully.
Elena nodded again, completely unaware of the impact her words were having.
"Yes. Mama made me steak when I was alone. It was so yummy, Papa. So yummy."
Yuuta looked at her for a long moment, then glanced toward the living room where Erza sat on the sofa, pretending to watch television but clearly listening to every word.
He turned back to Elena and spoke slowly, choosing his words with care.
"I thought you said your Mama couldn't cook."
Elena tilted her head, confused by the question.
"Mama uses magic to make steak," she explained, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. "It's very delicious, Papa. Magic makes it good."
Yuuta's hand tightened slightly at his side.
He kept his face calm, his expression neutral, but inside, something deeply personal had just been challenged.
Magic steak.
Rubbery steak.
His child—his daughter—had grown accustomed to mana-blasted meat. She had been raised on food that was essentially zapped into existence by dragon magic. And she called it delicious.
She didn't know any better.
She didn't know what real food tasted like.
He inhaled slowly, steadying himself. This wasn't about competition. This wasn't about proving anything to Erza. This was about giving his daughter something she had never experienced before.
"Alright," he said at last, determination settling into his voice like a soldier accepting a mission. "Let me make steak for you. A real steak. Properly cooked."
He paused, then added quietly:
"Better than your Mama's."
From the living room, Erza's eyes narrowed just a fraction.
A spark of competitive curiosity flickered within them, barely visible but unmistakable to anyone who knew how to read her. She said nothing. Made no move. But her attention sharpened, focused entirely on the conversation happening at the edge of the kitchen.
Elena, oblivious to the undercurrents, raised both hands excitedly.
"Yes! Elena wants to taste! Elena wants to taste!"
Yuuta rolled up his sleeves with deliberate calm, walking toward the kitchen as though stepping onto a battlefield. This was no longer just dinner. This was proof that human effort, patience, and skill could rival even draconic magic.
Behind him, Erza leaned back against the sofa, watching carefully. She said nothing more, but her gaze followed his every movement, sharp and evaluating, as though this simple meal had quietly become a matter of pride.
Yuuta stepped into the kitchen and stopped in the center of it, standing perfectly still as if he had entered sacred ground. The light above the counter hummed faintly, and the quiet felt different from the living room. This was his territory now. He rested both hands on the counter and stared at the cutting board for a long moment, mentally flipping through memories of recipes he had learned, videos he had watched, and advice he had once dismissed as unnecessary.
He inhaled slowly and nodded to himself.
He reached for the knife, testing its weight in his palm, and a determined smirk tugged at his lips.
"Let's show this lizard queen what cooking really means."
The words were quiet, but filled with resolve.
He opened the refrigerator and took out two thick cuts of beef, deep red and beautifully marbled. He placed them on the counter and let them sit for a few minutes so the chill would leave the meat. He remembered reading somewhere that cold steak in a hot pan was a mistake only amateurs made. Today, he refused to be an amateur.
Once ready, he patted the steaks dry carefully with paper towels. Moisture was the enemy of a good sear, and he wanted that golden crust, not some pale, steamed disappointment. He sprinkled salt generously on both sides, then added freshly ground black pepper, pressing it gently into the surface with his fingers so it would cling properly.
He set a heavy pan on the stove and turned the heat up high. He didn't rush it. He waited. When he hovered his hand over the pan, he could feel the heat radiating upward in steady waves. Only then did he add a small amount of oil, just enough to coat the bottom.
The moment the steaks touched the surface, the kitchen filled with a sharp, satisfying sizzle. Yuuta felt a surge of confidence. That sound was proof. That sound meant control.
He didn't move them. He didn't poke or press. He let them sear undisturbed, allowing the crust to form properly. After a few minutes, he flipped them carefully. The surface was beautifully browned, rich and caramelized. He tried not to grin too widely.
Lowering the heat slightly, he added a knob of butter to the pan along with a crushed clove of garlic. As the butter melted and foamed, he tilted the pan and used a spoon to baste the steaks repeatedly, letting the hot butter wash over the top. The aroma deepened, rich and savory, filling the entire kitchen.
He cooked them until they reached a tender medium, firm but still slightly yielding to the touch. Not rubbery. Never rubbery.
Once done, he transferred the steaks to a plate and let them rest. That part required patience, but he forced himself to wait. Resting meant the juices would stay inside the meat instead of spilling out the moment it was cut.
Only after several long minutes did he finally slice into one. The center was warm pink, glistening but not bleeding, perfectly even from edge to edge.
Yuuta allowed himself a quiet nod of approval.
Behind him, he could already sense Erza's presence lingering at the edge of the kitchen doorway, silent and watching. The air carried the scent of butter and seared beef all the way into the living room.
This was no magic. No unstable flames. No mana shortcuts.
Just heat, timing, and care.
He placed the finished steak neatly onto a plate and turned slightly, a confident glint in his eyes. The showdown had officially begun.
The aroma drifted slowly from the kitchen, rich and buttery, wrapping around the entire living room like an invisible hand. It carried warmth with it, teasing and persistent, slipping into every corner of the small apartment.
Erza sat stiffly on the sofa, eyes fixed on the television. A documentary about human history played across the screen, and she nodded occasionally as if absorbing valuable knowledge about mortal civilization. Her posture was elegant, composed, every inch the dignified dragon queen observing an inferior world.
But the scent betrayed her.
Her fingers tightened slightly on the remote. Her gaze flickered—not toward the screen, but toward the kitchen entrance.
The sizzling had stopped, replaced by the softer clink of plates and cutlery. The fragrance deepened as melted butter and seared beef filled the air.
She swallowed.
Her pride, however, stood taller than her hunger. A ruler did not wander toward food like a commoner drawn by smell. A queen waited.
Elena, on the other hand, had inherited none of that restraint.
The moment the scent reached its peak, she sprang from the floor and rushed toward the kitchen, her small footsteps pattering against the wood.
"Papa! Is it ready? Is it ready yet? Elena is hungry!"
Yuuta turned just as she entered, carefully lifting the plate with both hands. The steak rested at the center, surrounded by simple sides—lightly sautéed vegetables and a small portion of rice. Nothing extravagant, but thoughtfully prepared.
He carried it to the dining area, which was nothing more than a small table tucked into the corner of the living room. Since his apartment was a modest one-bedroom, he had long ago turned that corner into a makeshift dining space. A simple table. Cushions instead of chairs. It had always been enough for one person.
Until now.
For the first time, three plates rested there.
Elena climbed onto a cushion and stared at the food with shining eyes. She sat unusually still, hands folded on her lap as if any sudden movement might cause the steak to vanish.
Erza remained on the sofa.
She had not moved.
Yuuta sat down across from Elena and waited, glancing briefly toward the sofa. He assumed Erza would join them once she felt like it. Seconds passed. Then more.
She did not move.
Elena leaned closer to him and whispered softly, "Papa… Mama will not come until you invite her."
Yuuta blinked.
And then it all made sense.
A slow smile crept onto his face, not gentle this time, not respectful. It was the smile of a man who had just discovered a weakness in an ancient dragon's armor.
He turned back toward the table casually and sat down beside Elena.
"Well," he said lightly, "since we have extra steak… let's eat, Elena."
Elena raised both hands happily.
"Yah! Yah! Let's eat!"
On the sofa, Erza's head turned sharply toward them. She had expected a formal invitation. At the very least, a reluctant acknowledgment. Instead, he had simply… begun.
Yuuta picked up his knife and fork, cut a small piece of steak, and lifted it slowly to his mouth. He made sure his voice carried clearly across the room.
"Mmm. This steak is so juicy and tender. Oh my… the aroma alone is divine."
He closed his eyes dramatically and inhaled.
"How has heaven blessed these hands to create such a heavenly dish?"
Erza's fingers tightened against the sofa cushion. She knew exactly what he was doing. The mortal was provoking her on purpose.
Yuuta chewed thoughtfully, then added with exaggerated emotion, "Ah… I might actually die from happiness. If the gods wish to take me now after tasting this perfection, I shall go without regret."
Elena burst into giggles, trying to imitate him.
"Oh heavenly dish!" she declared, copying his tone with childish enthusiasm.
A faint twitch appeared at Erza's temple.
Her pride battled fiercely with her hunger.
But pride could not compete with the scent of butter and perfectly seared meat.
At last, she rose from the sofa with controlled dignity and walked toward the table, each step measured. Her face was slightly red, though whether from anger or anticipation was unclear. She sat down quietly without asking.
Yuuta glanced at her and smiled innocently.
"Oh? My queen chooses to sit with this mortal who so carelessly forgot to invite her?"
Erza shot him a sharp glare.
"You are my servant," she said coldly. "I do not require permission to do as I please."
With deliberate elegance, she picked up her fork and knife and cut into the steak.
The blade slid through effortlessly.
That alone surprised her.
She lifted a piece to her mouth and took a bite.
And then—
Everything stopped.
The outside held a delicate crust, rich and savory. The inside was tender, warm, and impossibly juicy. Butter and garlic lingered softly without overwhelming the natural flavor of the meat. Each chew released more depth, more balance, more intention.
This was not rubbery.
This was not mana-blasted.
This was… crafted.
Her eyes widened slightly despite her attempt to remain composed. For the first time since arriving in this world, Erza Vely Dragomir felt something she had not anticipated.
Shock.
The flavors unfolded layer by layer, and she could feel the difference between magic and skill. One was power forced upon ingredients. The other was understanding.
She swallowed slowly.
"…It's so delicious."
The words escaped before she could stop them.
She swallowed slowly.
"…It's so delicious."
The words slipped from her lips before her pride could catch them and drag them back.
Yuuta's smile widened—not the teasing grin from before, but something softer, relieved. At that moment, he felt a quiet surge of confidence bloom inside him. If he could win against a dragon queen with nothing but a frying pan and patience, then surviving one year as her so-called personal chef might not be impossible after all.
So there is hope, he thought. I might actually survive this contract.
Erza noticed that look immediately. The faint spark of optimism in his eyes irritated her more than his earlier teasing. She straightened her posture at once, regaining her regal composure.
"Do not misunderstand, mortal," she said coldly. "I will still kill you after one year. Remember that."
Yuuta clicked his tongue softly.
"Fine," he replied, shrugging as he cut another piece of steak. "I wasn't expecting mercy from the start. I'm just making Elena happy."
He didn't look at her when he said it. His tone was casual, almost dismissive, as if her threat had never truly frightened him.
Elena giggled.
"Papa, eating together like this feels so good, right?"
Yuuta glanced at her and smiled warmly.
"Of course. It feels good."
There was no exaggeration in his voice this time. Just quiet honesty.
Erza watched them both in silence. The small dining corner. The simple table. The way Elena leaned closer to Yuuta as she ate. The way he carefully cut her steak into smaller pieces without being asked.
Something stirred unexpectedly inside her chest.
A warmth.
It wasn't hunger.
It wasn't pride.
It wasn't anger.
Her hand slowly rose to rest against her chest, fingers pressing lightly against the unfamiliar sensation.
"What is this feeling…" she murmured under her breath. "Why does it appear whenever I am with this idiot human?"
She should have dismissed it. Dragons did not waver over such trivial things. Dragons conquered. They ruled. They did not sit at small mortal tables and feel… this.
Yet the warmth lingered, steady and quiet.
Across from her, Yuuta laughed softly at something Elena said, and the sound echoed through the apartment—not grand, not powerful, but alive.
Erza lowered her gaze to her plate, pretending to focus on the steak.
The warmth only grew.
To be continued.