The door slammed shut.
Yuuta was gone.
Erza stared at the empty space where he'd stood—this strange mortal who'd just run off because of something called "college." His fear had been genuine. His panic real.
What kind of place inspires such terror?
She filed the question away for later. There were more important things right now.
Like books.
---
She moved toward the bedroom.
Elena was already settled on the sofa, completely absorbed by the moving pictures on the strange device called "television." Cartoons. Bright colors. Simple stories. The child was content.
Erza left her there.
The bedroom was... unpleasant.
Messy didn't begin to cover it. Clothes scattered. Papers everywhere. The bed unmade—wrinkled sheets, pillows askew. A layer of dust on surfaces that should have been clean.
Erza crossed her arms. Her eye twitched.
Even my prison cells were cleaner than this.
She ignored the mess. Focused on her goal. Books. There had to be more books somewhere.
She opened the desk drawer.
---
And froze.
Inside, among papers and pens and random clutter, sat a diary. Unremarkable. Unimportant.
But that wasn't what caught her eye.
It was the photograph.
Tucked into the corner of the drawer, half-hidden by other items—a photo frame. Glass front. Simple wooden border.
And inside—
Yuuta.
Standing with a girl.
---
Erza's world stopped.
The girl was beautiful. There was no denying it. Slender figure. Long black hair. Amber eyes that caught the light. She was blushing in the photo, her cheeks pink, her smile shy.
Yuuta was holding her hand.
His pose was casual. Confident. Happy. The way he looked at her—the way they stood together—it was obvious.
Couple.
The word burned in Erza's mind like acid.
They looked like couple. Like lovers. Like two people who belonged together.
Erza's hand trembled.
She didn't notice when her fingers tightened. Didn't notice when the glass cracked. Didn't notice until the frame shattered in her grip—pieces falling, glass scattering, the photograph crumpling in her fist.
What is this feeling?
She didn't recognize it. Had never experienced it before. But it burned—hot and sharp and wrong.
Jealousy.
No. Something else. Something darker.
Betrayal.
---
Elena heard the crash.
She jumped off the sofa—little feet pattering—and rushed toward the bedroom. Her red eyes went wide when she saw her mother.
Erza stood frozen. Her hand was bleeding slightly—cut by the broken glass, though she didn't seem to notice. The photograph was crushed in her fist. Her expression was...
Elena had never seen it before.
Not anger. Something worse.
Hurt.
"Mama...?"
Erza didn't respond.
Her mind was racing. Spiraling. Centuries of existence, and she'd never felt this—this ache. This certainty that something had been taken from her.
He has another woman.
Another woman he holds hands with. Another woman who blushes for him. Another woman who could be—
The mother of his other child.
The thought hit her like a physical blow.
If he has another child. If he asks me to spare them. If he uses that child to trap me—
Her fist tightened. The photograph crumpled further.
I won't fall for it.
I won't be outplayed again.
---
"Elena."
Her voice was cold. Controlled. The voice of a queen.
Elena straightened. "Yes, Mama?"
"Ready yourself." Erza turned from the drawer. From the broken glass. From the photograph she couldn't stop thinking about. "We are going."
Elena tilted her head. Confused. "Where, Mama?"
Erza's eye burned.
"That human's college."
---
TO BE CONTINUED