(Yuuta's POV)
"Grandpa… stop."
The words escaped before I could temper them—sharper than I'd intended, yet quiet enough that the sound barely rose above the still air. Still, they cut through the silence like a blade.
Grandpa turned his head toward me, slow and deliberate, as though he was afraid I might shatter if he moved too quickly. His gaze met mine, and in it, I saw that heavy, suffocating pity. The kind that made me feel small. Fragile. Like a child who didn't yet understand the weight of the world.
"Boy… are you alright?" His voice was low, uncertain, the question almost hesitant to exist.
I swallowed. The lump in my throat throbbed, a dull ache I refused to let strangle my words. I didn't answer him—couldn't. The question I had been burying for hours, maybe days, clawed its way out instead.
"Why?"
The first syllable was nothing more than a rasp. My lips trembled, but I forced the word again, stronger this time. "Why is she like this?"
The dam inside me broke. Warm tears spilled down my face, unchecked, as if they'd been waiting for permission. From above my head, Erza wept as well—silent, but not empty. She didn't just appear broken; she radiated it. Because what bound us wasn't paper or spoken vows. Our souls were knotted together, each thread pulling at the other. My pain was hers. Her suffering hollowed me in return.
Grandpa's sigh was deep enough to carry the weight of a lifetime. "This… is the third time I've explained it to.this reader," he said, each word slow, deliberate.
I blinked at him through blurred vision. "…What?"
His gaze slid toward the bedroom window, where the fading light cast long shadows across his face. "Erza is in dragon grief," he said at last.
"…Dragon grief?" The words tasted alien on my tongue.
"It is a mourning only dragons endure," he murmured. "It happens when they fail to protect their mate. She is drowning in guilt… blaming herself for your injury."
My eyes drifted to her again. She sat hunched forward, shoulders trembling, arms wrapped around herself as though she could hold her body together by sheer will. Her eyes were swollen, breaths jagged, and something inside my chest pulled painfully tight.
"Then… why is she not in her senses?" My voice cracked, thin and frayed.
"She'll return to herself once you've recovered fully," Grandpa said softly. There was no comfort in his tone, only truth. "But until then… each time she sees you like this, it tears her apart. Every breath you take in pain is another wound to her heart."
I shook my head. "That doesn't make sense. When I was shot in the academy—" I stopped, breath faltering. "She wasn't like this. She… she went on a rampage. I can't even explain it."
Grandpa's eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't answer right away, as though weighing the measure of truth he should reveal. Then he exhaled, closing his eyes.
"I know of that incident," he said quietly. "I saw it too… in your memory."
I froze. "…My memory?" My pulse stumbled into a frantic rhythm. "Wait—how do you even have my memory?"
He didn't meet my gaze. "If I tell you… it will awaken things you're not ready to remember." There was regret beneath the calm in his voice. "So for now, let me tell you why that time was different."
I stayed silent—not out of agreement, but because my body had no strength left for protest.
"That time," he continued, "you were shot, yes… but she didn't grieve. It was rage—wild and unrestrained. Back then, she loved you… but she wasn't wholly devoted. Now…" His eyes met mine, unwavering. "Now she loves you so deeply you will never truly grasp it. That love… it must have been born from a promise between you."
A promise…
The word struck something deep within me. My mind faltered, then shuddered as a memory stirred—distant, yet sharp enough to hurt.
I saw my arms around her, the warmth of her body pressed against mine.
I promise you… I'll never give my heart to anyone else. It already belongs to you.
She was quiet, but I felt the way her fingers held mine just a little tighter.
"I feel the same," she whispered. "Until the day I die… my heart will only belong to you."
I remember I did promise her, I said almost disblief she took it in her heart.
(Ref:- Chapter 73).
"Listen, boy…"
Grandpa's voice was calm—too calm. Beneath it was something heavier, something that made my eyes stay locked on him as if looking away would mean missing something important.
"Love," he said, "is more complicated than you think. You may not have meant much by what you said back then—maybe you weren't even serious—but Dragon… they take words to heart. And she…"
His gaze flicked toward Erza, who still sat motionless, as if trapped in some place I couldn't reach.
"She took your words and carved them deep inside herself. I don't know which part of them struck her the deepest… but that's the reason your bond is strong enough to push her into dragon grief."
I lay across her lap—Erza's lap—my head resting against the soft folds of her dress. Her warmth seeped through the fabric, unfamiliar yet comforting. My chest ached with the thought. She loves me… this deeply?
Until now, I'd never thought much about the difference between dragon love and human love. I'd assumed love was just… love. Gentle, warm, something you could let go of if you needed to. But dragon love… no, it was nothing like that. It was fierce. Consuming. The kind of devotion that burned and branded rather than simply holding.
And the more I understood it, the colder my blood felt.
If she could lose herself like this from seeing me injured… what would happen if I really died one day? From old age, perhaps.Would she keep her sanity? Or would she break beyond repair? Would she destroy herself? The world? Both?
And then another face flashed in my mind. Elena. Would she one day fall into the same grief? Would I be condemning two hearts to ruin just by existing in theirs?
Grandpa's explanation hadn't soothed me. If anything, it left me with more questions, more fears—each one twisting tighter around my thoughts until the present began to dissolve. I could feel myself slipping into a place where only the shadows of what-if's lived, a future I wanted no part of but couldn't unsee.
When I looked up, Grandpa was watching me. His eyes… it was as though he could already read every dark thought racing through my head.
Before that spiral could pull me under, Erza moved. Slowly, as if she feared I might vanish if she startled me, she leaned down. Her lips brushed mine in a kiss—warm, steady, anchoring. My breath caught, and for a moment, there was no grief, no fear, no future—only the now.
When she pulled back, her voice was a fragile thread—soft and slow, trembling just enough to show she was human… or at least, something like it. Yet beneath it was the same unyielding strength I had always known.
"Sleep… peacefully… my mortal."
The words curled around me like a blanket. My body, heavy with exhaustion, yielded to her warmth. My eyes closed, and I let the darkness take me—not the sharp, jagged kind, but the quiet dark of rest.
Just for today, I told myself, recovery was my only duty. Everything else could wait. Because I can't let her hurt more.
I stopped fighting it.
The more I tried to wake up, the more pain flashed in her eyes. So… I just let go. My eyelids grew heavy, and before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep in her lap.
(Grandpa's POV)
Yuuta had fallen asleep again, his head resting in Erza's lap. His breathing was steady, but his face was pale. He'd lost more blood than I first thought. For a mortal, that kind of loss was serious.
Dragon saliva could heal wounds, yes… but it wasn't instant. It closed the cuts, helped the body recover faster, but proper rest was still needed. At least now, he was getting that rest.
Still…
This is getting out of hand.
My hands tightened into fists until my knuckles hurt. This was my fault. I should have seen this coming and stopped it before it began. But I didn't. I told myself there was still time—and in that time, the bond between them grew.
That's what scares me most. The stronger their bond, the more it will hurt her in the end.
If I had convinced her to return to Atlantis Kingdom sooner, none of this would have happened. But I hesitated. And now my granddaughter has fallen into dragon grief.
I told myself I should break apart this little family Drama they've built before it becomes something she can't live without. But the truth is… I'm already caught up in it myself.
Yuuta Kounari.
The more I think about him, the harder it is to stop. The more time I spend around him, the more I feel the dangerous urge to keep him close.
Erza once told me that when she granted his three wishes, she would leave him. That was the plan. A clean break. No lingering ties.
If she leaves him after those three wishes, I know she'll fall into dragon grief again. And next time, I doubt she'll recover—because Yuuta will still be here on Earth, far beyond her reach.
No matter what it takes, I have to find a way to stop that from happening.
I won't let her fall into despair again.
Erza…
She doesn't even realize what's happening to her.
Dragon grief isn't something you can just shake off. It's not an illness that fades with time—it's a curse, born from a love so deep it can't survive without breaking the one who holds it.
It comes in three stages.
Deep – Rage consumes her, driving her into a rampage to destroy anything that threatens her mate.
Deeper – The dragon enters a relentless protective state, forsaking food and sleep, watching over her mate until he recovers.
Deepest — when her mate is gone forever, and the grief devours what's left until there's nothing but a shadow… and the inevitable end they choose for themselves.
I can't tell Yuuta this.
I know him.
The boy would throw himself into death's jaws without hesitation if it meant keeping her from falling that far.
But Erza… she's already in the second stage. Deeper love grief.
If she sinks any further, there will be no coming back. The more time she spends with him, the deeper she loves him—and the closer she walks to the edge.
I sat there on the sofa, fists tight, running through every possibility, every ugly choice that might keep her from falling.
Then—
A knock.
Not the kind of knock that waits for an answer.
It was sharp, urgent. The kind of knock you hear from someone who already knows there's blood on the floor.
I turned toward the door, my senses sharpening.
Who…?
With a flick of my fingers, the lock clicked, and the door swung open by itself.
She stood there in the doorway—
A girl, blindfolded, dressed in the stark black-and-white robes of a church sister.
Her presence rolled through the room in a slow, deliberate wave—not hostile, but heavy.
She stepped inside without asking, her movements quick but precise, as though she'd rehearsed every step before arriving. Pale skin, lips pressed into a thin line. She made for the living room… but when her covered eyes found me, she stopped.
Then, with no hesitation, she dropped to one knee.
"O great divine being," she said, her voice low and steady, "it is my honor to be in your presence."
I studied her in silence.
She is Elf.
I saw her in Yuuta memory, although I can't see Yuuta full memory but I know her.
The stillness in her aura was unnatural—controlled, as though every flicker of emotion was being held back by force.
Her hands moved to the knot at the back of her head. The blindfold slipped free.
Her eyes… were clear, Blue eyes.
"Why," I asked slowly, "is an elf here… on Earth?"
She didn't answer at once. Her lips parted, but instead of an explanation, a plea escaped.
"Please, my lord… let me save Yuuta."
There was a shine in her eyes.
Not politeness. Not ritual.
Real tears.
An elf… weeping for a human.
I felt my brow tighten. "An elf kneeling for a human? Your people call yourselves the Chosen Race… yet you kneel for someone you would call an inferior being?"
Her head rose slightly, and for the first time, her gaze met mine.
"My lord… Yuuta may look human, but his blood… is not human at all."
My eyes narrowed. "…What do you mean not human blood?"
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. She hesitated, as if weighing the cost of what she might say next.
I leaned forward slightly, my voice quiet but sharp. "What do you mean by that? And Why does your race guard him so closely? I've seen in his memory. Your Elven Queen herself, the Great Spirit, and others—watching him, protecting him. Why?"
The air between us thickened.
I had thought about this many times. The Elf Queen's willingness to protect Yuuta made no sense. Elves are higher beings—masters of magic, steeped in ancient pride. They look down on humans, goblins, ogres… in truth, they look down on nearly every other race. Only dragons earn their respect.
That's the only reason I can imagine why Yuuta wasn't outright discarded. Even as a child, he endured their cruelty. They tortured him without hesitation. And yet… something changed.
After seeing Yuuta's memories—memories even Erza and I could not access—the elves began to treat him differently. Their contempt softened. They stopped hurting him. Then… they started protecting him.
Even the Spirit Queen, who has always cared only for her own kind, began to act strangely. She was the one who suggested sending Yuuta to Earth.
Her sudden shift raised too many questions… questions I still don't have the courage to answer.
Her fingers tightened around the blindfold in her hands. "Some truths, my lord, are… forbidden to speak."
I let the silence stretch.
Seconds passed like stones dropping into deep water.
Finally, she drew in a slow, measured breath. "But I can tell you this much… Yuuta's is not entirely human."
What...????
To be continue.....
(Author Pov)
Erza's eyes narrowed like a predator sizing up prey.
"How many secrets do you have, Yuuta?"
Before he could answer, her hand shot out, fingers clamping around his neck—not enough to kill him, but enough to make his breath hitch.
Yuuta coughed, flailing like a fish out of water. "W–What do you mean? You guys don't even know my full origin!"
Her grip loosened a fraction, but the glare in her eyes could still strip paint off a wall.
"I was born in a lab, remember?" he rasped between coughs. "They… might have done a few things to me. Things I'm still figuring out."
Erza's lip curled in frustration. "How long is your backstory supposed to be? It's like some endless puzzle that makes me sick every time I have to reread it!"
Yuuta threw up his hands. "Yeah, well… that's because the author never reveals everything directly. He waits until things finally feel calm—then he drops another truth bomb and ruins everything again!"
Erza stared at him in disbelief. "…I hate this story structure."
"Me too," I muttered from somewhere beyond the fourth wall.
"You shut up! you don't even know how to write novel." Yuuta and Erza shouted in perfect unison, both glaring into the void where the author was clearly lurking.