The morning sun streamed through the curtains, painting warm golden stripes across the bedroom floor and across Yuuta's face as he slowly emerged from sleep.
For a long moment, he simply lay there, savoring the feeling of being alive. His body felt light in a way it hadn't in days. His mind felt clear, sharp, present. His chest rose and fell with easy, natural breaths that required no effort, no struggle, no desperate gasping for air.
The fever was gone.
Whatever had happened while he slept—whatever magic or medicine or miracle had occurred—he was healed.
He looked at the clock on his nightstand.
10:30 AM.
His eyes went wide. His body shot upright so fast that the room spun around him for a dizzying second.
"TEN THIRTY?!" The words exploded from him before he could stop them. "How did I—I never sleep this late! I always wake up by seven! Even after night shifts, I'm up by eight at the latest!"
He stopped.
Took a breath.
Let the panic subside as reason slowly returned.
Well, he thought, running a hand through his thoroughly disheveled hair, I guess I'm not going to college today. Let them assume I'm still sick. After everything that happened yesterday, it's not even a lie.
He lay back down.
Stared at the ceiling.
And then he remembered the dream.
---
In the dream, he had kissed Erza.
It hadn't been like the chaotic, violent reality of their relationship. There was no threat of death, no ice forming in the air, no insults about being a disgusting mortal. Just warmth. Just closeness. Just the soft press of her lips against his and the feeling that everything in the universe had clicked into place.
His face turned crimson.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" he whispered to the empty room, his voice muffled by the pillow he pressed against his burning cheeks. "Why am I dreaming about THAT?"
But even as he asked, even as he tried to push the image away, he knew the answer.
Something had changed between them recently.
Erza was still cold, still ruthless, still quick with insults and threats and declarations of his imminent death. But beneath all of that—beneath the ice and the anger and the centuries of carefully constructed walls—she had started to show him something else.
Kindness, when she thought he wasn't looking.
Gentleness, when he was too sick to notice.
Care.
The way she had helped him when the fever took hold. The way she had sat with him, watched over him, refused to leave his side even when she had every reason to return to her cold indifference. The way she had looked at him with something other than hatred in those violet eyes.
"She's different now," he murmured, staring at the ceiling. "And I think... I think I am too."
He shook his head violently, trying to dislodge the thought.
Forced himself to focus on practical matters.
"Wait." He sat up again, this time slower, more controlled. "It's ten thirty. They must be starving."
The thought hit him like a physical blow.
Erza and Elena had been alone for hours. Hours without food. Hours without him making breakfast. Hours without anyone taking care of them, providing for them, making sure they were okay.
What if they got hungry?
What if hungry dragons do something terrible?
What if—
He was out of bed before the thought could fully form.
---
The apartment was quiet.
Too quiet.
Yuuta moved through the hallway on bare feet, his steps silent against the worn wooden floor, his eyes scanning every corner for any sign of his family. The living room was empty when he passed it. The kitchen was empty when he glanced inside. The balcony door was slightly ajar, but he couldn't see anyone through the gap.
"Elena?" he called softly, keeping his voice low. "Erza?"
No response.
His heart began to race.
Where are they?
Did something happen while I was asleep?
Did they—
He rounded the corner into the living room and stopped dead.
Erza was on the sofa.
Asleep.
She lay curled on her side in a position that mirrored the one she had taken that very first night—one arm tucked under her head as a pillow, the other draped across a book that had fallen open on the cushion beside her. Her silver hair spilled across the fabric like moonlight made solid, like starlight captured and woven into silk. Her face—usually so cold, so controlled, so deliberately unreadable—was soft in sleep.
Peaceful.
Vulnerable.
Beautiful in a way that made his chest ache.
Yuuta's breath caught in his throat.
"Truly," he whispered, barely audible even to himself, "dragons really do love reading more than humans. Different, but..." He smiled softly. "In a good way."
He stood there for a moment longer than necessary, just watching her breathe.
Then he turned toward the bathroom.
"Elena?" he called again, keeping his voice low so he wouldn't wake Erza. "Elena, where are you?"
Nothing.
He checked the bathroom.
Empty.
He checked the kitchen again, more thoroughly this time.
Empty.
He checked the bedroom once more, as if she might have magically appeared while he wasn't looking.
Empty.
Panic began to creep up his spine, cold and insistent.
"Elena?" His voice rose slightly despite his efforts to stay quiet. "Elena, this isn't funny. Where are you?"
"You idiot."
The voice came from behind him.
Sleepy.
Annoyed.
Erza.
Yuuta spun around.
She was still on the sofa, still half-asleep, her body barely having moved from its curled position. But one of her eyes had cracked open—just enough to aim a pointed glare in his direction. Without sitting up, without changing position, she lifted a single finger and pointed.
Toward the balcony.
"She's over there," Erza murmured, her voice thick with sleep and irritation. "Now be quiet. Some of us are trying to rest."
Her eye closed.
Her breathing evened out.
She was asleep again in seconds, as if the brief interruption had never happened.
Yuuta stared at her for a long moment, a small smile tugging at his lips despite everything.
Then he turned and walked toward the balcony.
Yuuta stepped onto the balcony.
The morning air was cool against his skin, fresh with the scent of the city waking up around them. Birds sang somewhere in the distance. Cars hummed on streets far below. The world was going about its ordinary business, completely unaware of the extraordinary beings living in this small apartment.
Elena stood at the railing.
She was so small—so impossibly small—that she had to stand on her tiptoes just to see over the edge. Her silver hair caught the sunlight, making it glow like a halo around her head. Her tiny wings were folded against her back, hidden from the world by the simple dress Yuuta had bought her.
She was looking down.
Watching.
Yuuta followed her gaze.
Below, on the street that ran past their building, a group of children were walking to school. They held hands, some of them. Laughed at jokes only children understand. Swung their backpacks and skipped and jumped and existed in that bubble of innocence that childhood provides.
Elena watched them.
Her eyes—those violet eyes that held so much of her mother—followed every movement. Every laugh. Every skip. Every ordinary, wonderful moment of being a child with other children.
Yuuta's heart clenched.
He didn't know how they spent their days while he was at college. He had never asked. Had never thought to ask. He had been so focused on surviving—on navigating Erza's threats, on managing his own fear, on simply getting through each day—that he had never stopped to consider what Elena did.
Erza probably read. Probably studied. Probably filled her endless hours with knowledge about this strange world she was trapped in.
But Elena—
Elena was a child.
A child trapped in an apartment all day while he went to school and worked and worried about things she couldn't understand.
A child who watched other children walk to school and wondered what it would be like.
A child who had never asked because she didn't want to burden him.
The realization hit Yuuta like a physical blow.
She wants to go to school.
She wants friends.
She wants to be a normal child.
And I never noticed.
I was so focused on survival that I forgot she was just a little girl.
Guilt flooded through him—thick and heavy and impossible to ignore. Regret for every day she had spent alone. Sorrow for every moment of loneliness she had endured in silence.
He stepped forward.
Kneeled beside her.
"Elena."
She turned.
Her eyes were wide, curious, innocent. Completely unaware of the revelation happening inside him.
"Yes, Papa?"
Yuuta looked at her.
At the tiny horns hidden beneath her silver hair.
At the wings folded against her back.
At the child who was both dragon and human, both powerful and vulnerable, both his daughter and something more.
"Do you want to go to school, little Elena?"
Her eyes went wide.
Wider than he had ever seen them.
Wider than seemed physically possible.
"Really, Papa?!" Her voice rose with excitement, trembling with hope. "Elena can go to school?! A REAL school?! With other children?! And books?! And—and—and everything?!"
Yuuta smiled.
"Yeah, sweetheart. A real school. With real children and real books and real everything."
Elena's face transformed.
It lit up like the sun breaking through clouds.
Like stars being born.
Like every dream she had ever dreamed coming true at once.
"PAPA! PAPA! PAPA!"
She launched herself at him.
Wrapped her tiny arms around his neck.
Held on like she would never let go.
"Elena loves Papa! Elena loves Papa SO MUCH!"
Yuuta held her close.
Felt her joy vibrate through his entire body.
Felt his own heart expand with love so powerful it almost hurt.
"I love you too, Elena," he whispered into her hair. "And I'm sorry it took me so long to notice."
She didn't hear the apology.
Didn't need to.
She was too busy bouncing with excitement, already planning, already dreaming, already imagining the wonderful world that was about to open up to her.
Yuuta stood on the balcony, watching Elena dance with pure, unbridled joy.
Her tiny feet pattered against the concrete. Her arms swung in wild, enthusiastic circles. Her voice rose in a wordless song of happiness that made his heart swell with every note.
She was so happy.
So completely, utterly, beautifully happy.
Then something hit the back of his head.
"OW!"
Yuuta spun around, one hand flying to the point of impact, his eyes wide with shock and pain. A toothbrush clattered to the balcony floor—the weapon that had just been launched at his skull with surprising accuracy.
He looked up.
Erza stood in the balcony doorway.
Towering.
Arms crossed.
Face cold enough to freeze the sun itself.
"Good... good morning, Erza..." Yuuta's voice trembled despite his best efforts to control it. His nervous smile twitched at the corners. Sweat beaded on his forehead. "Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?"
Erza said nothing.
She just stood there, brushing her teeth with an ice brush she had manifested from nowhere, her violet eyes boring into him with an intensity that made him want to hide behind Elena.
She removed the brush from her mouth.
"What," she said, her voice cold enough to create frost on the balcony railing, "did you just say to my daughter?"
Yuuta's blood ran cold.
Oh no.
What did I say?
What did I do wrong NOW?
"I... I was just..." He swallowed hard. "I was thinking about sending Elena to school. You know, like normal children do. For her development and—"
Before he could finish the sentence, Erza's hand shot out.
Her fingers found his ear.
Pinched.
Hard.
"OW OW OW OW OW!" Yuuta's voice rose to an embarrassing pitch as he tried to twist free. "That hurts! ERZA, THAT REALLY HURTS!"
"You want," Erza said slowly, emphasizing each word with another twist of his ear, "to send MY daughter—the princess of the Atlantian Dragon Kingdom—to a school filled with DISGUSTING HUMANS so she can become like YOU?!"
"That's not—I didn't—you're twisting my words—"
"I am twisting your EAR, mortal. Your words are your own."
Elena had stopped dancing.
She stood frozen, watching her parents with wide eyes, her joy momentarily forgotten in the face of this new drama.
Yuuta finally managed to pull free, stumbling backward and clutching his abused ear.
"Listen," he said, trying to catch his breath. "You're not understanding. School isn't just about learning facts. It's about child development. Social skills. Making friends. Experiencing things that every child deserves to experience."
Erza's eyes narrowed.
"There is no point," she said flatly, "in sending a dragon child to a human school where she will learn NOTHING of value. I have already raised her with vast knowledge—more than any human teacher could ever provide. What can they possibly teach her that I cannot?"
She stepped closer.
"How to be a coward like you? How to be kind to enemies? How to show weakness and call it strength?" Her voice dripped with contempt. "These are not virtues in my world. These are weaknesses that get you killed. I will not watch my daughter become weak like you."
Yuuta's jaw tightened.
Something shifted in his expression.
The fear didn't disappear—Erza was still terrifying—but something else joined it. Determination. Frustration. A stubbornness that had been buried under years of survival but was now fighting its way to the surface.
"How can you be so ruthless?" he asked quietly.
Erza blinked.
"Have you ever been to school?" he continued. "Have you ever sat in a classroom with other children your age? Learned together? Played together? Grown together?"
She said nothing.
"You speak about school like you know what it is," Yuuta pressed, his voice growing stronger. "But you don't. You have no idea what Elena would experience. What she would learn. What she would become."
Erza's eyes flashed.
"And YOU do?"
"Yes." He met her gaze. "Because I went to school. Because I know what it gave me. Because I understand that there are things children can only learn from other children—things no parent, no matter how powerful or knowledgeable, can teach."
He stepped closer.
Not threatening.
Just... present.
"Erza, please. Just listen."
Erza's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.
"What is this 'experience' you keep speaking of?" Her voice dripped with contempt, each word a blade aimed at his heart. "Do you not see that Elena is happy here? With me? With the life I have given her?"
Yuuta met her gaze.
For once, he didn't flinch.
"She's not happy, Erza."
The words hung in the air between them like a challenge.
"She pretends to be happy. Have you ever actually talked to her? Have you ever asked what she wants? What she feels? What she dreams about?"
Erza's jaw tightened.
"I am her mother. I know—"
"Do you know that she spends every morning on that balcony?" Yuuta pointed toward the railing where Elena had been standing moments ago. "Do you know that she watches children walk to school every single day? That she watches them laugh and play and hold hands and wonders what it would be like?"
Erza was silent.
"I go to college. I come home. I go to work. You spend all day reading." Yuuta's voice grew stronger, fueled by something he hadn't known he possessed. "And Elena is left alone in the hall. Alone with her thoughts. Alone with her books. Alone with nothing but knowledge while the joy of being a child is slowly drained out of her."
He stepped closer.
"You gave her knowledge, yes. But you took away her childhood. And that—" his voice cracked, "—that is the biggest mistake either of us could make."
Erza moved faster than thought.
Her hand closed around his throat.
Lifted him.
"You have the AUDACITY," she snarled, her face inches from his, "to blame ME for this? ME, who crossed worlds to find you? ME, who has done nothing but protect her since the moment she was born?"
Yuuta choked.
His feet dangled above the ground.
His hands clawed weakly at her grip.
"It was YOUR fault," Erza continued, her voice rising, "that I am stuck on this miserable planet! YOUR fault that we are here with nothing to do! YOUR fault that she has no life beyond these walls! And now you dare to blame ME?!"
Inside her head, another voice screamed.
Stop.
Let him go.
He just woke from fever.
He's weak.
He's—
But her hand wouldn't obey.
Her pride wouldn't let her.
I've gone too far, she realized. I've already gone too far. Do I really have to kill him now? Do I really have to—
"PAPA! MAMA! STOP!"
The cry shattered the moment.
High-pitched.
Desperate.
Broken.
Erza's grip loosened.
Yuuta dropped to the floor, gasping, coughing, clutching his throat.
They both turned.
Elena stood in the corner of the balcony, her small body shaking with sobs. Tears streamed down her cheeks—real tears, heartbreaking tears, the kind of tears no child should ever have to shed. Her dinosaur stickers were clutched to her chest like a shield.
"Elena doesn't want to go to school!" she cried, her voice cracking with the effort of holding back worse sobs. "Elena is sorry! Papa was just joking! He didn't mean it! Please don't fight!"
Yuuta's heart shattered.
He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain in his throat, and rushed to his daughter.
He knelt before her.
Took her tiny face in his hands.
"Elena, no." His voice was gentle despite everything. Desperately gentle. "Don't say that. School is a wonderful place. Papa can convince Mama. Papa can make it work."
Elena shook her head violently, tears flying from her cheeks.
"No, Papa! Elena is happy here! Elena is happy with you and Mama!" She was trying so hard to be brave, to fix things, to make the fighting stop. "Elena doesn't need school! Elena doesn't need anything except Papa and Mama!"
Her small hands clutched his.
Her violet eyes—so like her mother's, but so much softer—begged him to understand.
Please don't fight.
Please don't leave.
Please don't make me choose.
Yuuta pulled her into his arms.
Held her tight.
Felt her tears soak through his shirt.
"It's okay," he whispered. "It's okay, sweetheart. Papa is here. Papa isn't going anywhere."
Behind them, Erza stood frozen.
Watching.
Her face was its usual mask of cold indifference.
But inside—
Inside, something was breaking.
She's crying because of me.
Because of my anger.
Because I couldn't control myself.
Again.
She looked at Yuuta, holding their daughter, comforting her with a gentleness she didn't possess.
She looked at Elena, clinging to him, finding safety in his arms.
She looked at herself.
Alone.
Always alone.
I don't want to agree with him, she thought. I don't want to admit he's right.
But their kindness—their foolish, infuriating, beautiful kindness—
It's making it impossible to say no.
---
To be continued...
[Scene Credit One – Thank You Message]
Elena:
Yah! Hello, everyone! Thank you soooo much for reading our story! We just hit 180 collections! You guys are the best!
Yuuta:
Seriously, thanks a ton, everyone. Your Power Stones, collections, and those handsome votes? You're carrying us!
Though... I didn't expect to get more votes than Erza in the fandom ranking. Kinda wild, right?
Erza:
…
(crosses arms, eyes narrow)
How exactly did a plain-faced mortal like you get more votes than me?
Yuuta:
Uh... maybe they like my personality?
Erza:
Your personality is mediocre at best.
This fandom clearly has poor taste—or they haven't seen what true elegance looks like yet.
Yuuta:
Ouch. That's cold.
Erza:
Good. Stay frozen.
Elena:
Hehe~ Mommy's mad again. Anyway! Thank you, everyone! Let's reach 200 collections next!
Yuuta:
And maybe Erza will finally smile for once?
Erza:
Unlikely..