(Erza's POV)
"Yuuta Kounari…"
His name slipped from my lips, trembling, as if even the sound of it carried too much weight for me to bear. My hand pressed against my chest. Why is it that every time I say his name, my heart pounds as if it wants to break free? Love… what a curse. Yet, if this is a curse, then I am glad to bear it.
Sister Mary's lips curved, a gentle giggle spilling forth. Her eyes sparkled knowingly, as though she had read every unspoken word written across my heart.
"Alright, my queen," she said softly. "Then let me continue from where I left off."
She adjusted her veil, her expression shifting into something tender, touched with nostalgia. When she spoke again, her voice was lower, almost as if she feared her memories might scatter if spoken too loudly.
"When Yuuta was first brought before me, he was only five years old. Such a small child…" Her gaze unfocused, drifting into the past. "He clung to the Queen's side as though she were the only anchor in his world. She dressed him, fed him, even held him like her very own blood. To the court, to the elders—he was a treasure. They adored him, doted on him, showered him with affection. To them, Yuuta was no less than a prince."
Her tone darkened, pulling me closer to the heart of her memory.
"But then… the Spirit Queen intervened."
At that name, my head lifted sharply. Even among dragons, the Spirit Queen was not one to be spoken of lightly. She was more than a monarch—she was a fragment of divinity. A lower deity who rarely descended into the affairs of mortals. For her to intervene in the fate of a single child…
Sister Mary's eyes clouded, her voice dropping into a hushed cadence.
"She warned us. Yuuta must be sent to Earth. No matter what. He must not remain in Nova. She said his happiness would wither here… and above all, she decreed that he must never return."
My lips parted, breath catching in my throat. Even now, hearing those words again, the weight of them crushed against me. For the Spirit Queen to speak with such finality—it could only mean Yuuta's existence carried a destiny vast and perilous, one beyond even my grasp.
Sister Mary's fingers coiled tightly around her rosary beads, the faint clink of them echoing in the stillness.
"The Queen called a council. For days, the halls rang with arguments. Who would take him? Who would risk such a task? To send a child into Earth—into that wasteland where mana is thin as dust—it was unthinkable. To us, it is like casting an elf into a desert, a slow and certain death. Worse still, many of our kind despised humans. Few were willing to even touch the matter."
Her voice grew bitter, the weight of old wounds seeping through.
"And then Royal Captain spoke. He offered my name."
She looked at me then, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at her lips.
"To the elders, it was the perfect solution. I was a criminal to be expelled. Yuuta would have someone to care for him, and they would be rid of me. Two problems, solved in one stroke."
My fists clenched against my thighs. Such cruelty. Such cold calculation, to reduce both child and woman to tools in their schemes.
But Sister Mary's expression softened, breaking through my anger. Her eyes glistened with memory as her voice grew gentle again.
"That was the day the Queen placed Yuuta before me," Sister Mary began. Her voice was soft at first, but the weight in it deepened with every word.
"She told me… if I raised this boy in an unknown world for fifteen years, she would erase my crimes and make me Free citizen. But she also warned me—the place I was being sent to was unlike ours. A world without magic. A place where the mana is so thick it chokes even a dragon. And yet… I accepted."
Her words hung heavy in the chamber, as if the memory itself still bled.
"When the spell ended, I found myself in that world with Yuuta at my side. He was so small then, only five years old. His memories of Nova were already gone, wiped clean. To him, I was all that remained. He clung to me like a frightened kitten, terrified that I would vanish if he let go."
Her hands, resting on her knees, clenched tightly.
"The moment I drew breath there, I thought I would die. The air was poisoned with mana—dense, suffocating. Every inhale burned my lungs, every exhale felt like fire. If not for the few healing potions I carried, I would not have survived the first week."
She paused, eyes lowering, as though even now her body still remembered that pain.
"It was winter. The snow fell endlessly, drifting in thick, suffocating layers, piling high in the streets until the world itself felt buried. I had no warm cloak, no boots, nothing to shield us from the bitter cold. Yuuta trembled in my arms, his tiny body shaking so violently I thought my own heart would shatter. Every quiver of his frame filled me with dread—each shiver whispered the same fear: he might not make it through the night.
Sister Mary's voice softened to a fragile whisper, as though raising it any louder might shatter the memory itself.
"I went from shop to shop, begging for help, but the humans…" Her lips pressed thin, and her voice wavered with quiet bitterness. "They looked through me as though I were nothing—less than air. To them, money was everything. I hid my ears, kept my head low, but it didn't matter. No one cared."
My chest tightened. Even sitting in the safety of this chamber, I felt the frost of that memory creep into the air, coating everything in ice.
"I wrapped him in my arms," she continued, her tone fragile, cracking under the weight of remembrance. "Pressed him against my chest, tried to pour every drop of warmth I had into his tiny body. But the cold… the cold would not let go. Every little breath he drew came shallow, trembling. That night… I thought I would lose him. I thought I could not keep him alive."
Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears, reflecting the dim candlelight.
"Finally," she whispered, her voice trembling like a leaf in a storm, "I offered a silver coin at a small shop… in exchange for bread. The shopkeeper laughed. Said it was fake silver. But because we were 'foreigners,' he tossed me a single loaf… in exchange for one hundred and twenty silver coins."
Rage flared hot in my veins. "One loaf?" I hissed, my voice sharp as steel. "A hundred and twenty silver for one filthy piece of bread? You let him cheat you like that?"
But Sister Mary only shook her head, slowly, as if the weight of that night was still pressing on her shoulders. "My queen… hunger steals reason. Yuuta… he was starving. His lips were pale, his body weak. I could not think. All I saw was his trembling, his fading strength. I would have given anything—anything—just to keep him alive."
Her tears slipped free then, silent and steady, carving glistening tracks down her cheeks.
"Yuuta… he took the bread in his little hands. And then he smiled at me." Her voice faltered, breaking into something caught between pain and wonder. "Smiled… as though it were the most magnificent feast the world had ever offered. That night, we slept in a dumpster, wrapped in scraps of discarded paper. The snow seeped through the cracks, biting into our skin, but he pressed himself close to me and whispered, 'Thank you, Sister Mary.'"
She covered her mouth, as if the memory itself was unbearable, as if speaking it aloud tore open wounds that had never fully healed.
"Day after day, it was the same. Each sunrise brought more hunger, more cold, more exhaustion. No clean water. No proper food. Just scraps. Just snow. And still… Yuuta never once complained. Never. Instead, he would smile at me with that tired, innocent smile and say, 'Someday, Sister Mary, we'll eat warm food. God will help us.'"
Her voice cracked, and she let out a soft sob.
"Yes… God will help us, Yuuta," I said while hugging Yuuta.
Her voice broke completely then, and the tears she had held back slipped free.
"I begged God," Sister Mary said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her hands trembled as she clasped them together, knuckles white. "I begged Him over and over, though… truthfully, I never respected Him before. But seeing Yuuta suffer… seeing him shiver in the snow… I had no choice. I had to pray. I begged, I pleaded… until my throat went raw, until my voice was hoarse."
She paused, her eyes distant, staring at some memory no one else could see. "But no help came. Not a single hand reached out to us. There were moments… so many moments… when I wanted to give up. I thought maybe it would be easier if I just let the cold take me. If I could die, perhaps then Yuuta would have a chance to survive. But even in that despair… he always held my hand. That tiny, fragile hand never let go. And because of him… I couldn't bring myself to let go either."
The room was quiet, the silence thick. Only the faint sound of her tears dripping into her lap broke the stillness.
"I thought about… terrible things," she admitted, her voice trembling. "More than once, I considered selling my body for food, For surive. I hated myself for it, but I couldn't watch him trembling any longer, couldn't bear to see his little body wasting away. And yet… even as he shivered, even as he struggled to stay alive… he tried to comfort me. He was only a child, yet he carried his suffering in silence, stronger than I ever could be."
Her lips quivered, and I felt my own heart tighten. It was almost unbearable to hear her speak of such helplessness.
Then, slowly, her tone shifted. A faint warmth entered her words, like sunlight breaking through a storm.
"And then… Father Elijah found us," she said, her voice small but steady. "He brought us to the Church orphanage—the Jesus Christ Foundation. There, for the first time since arriving in this world, we were safe. They gave us food, warm clothes… shelter. Yuuta could smile again. For the first time, I felt hope."
She looked at me then, eyes glistening, a shadow of a smile on her lips.
"In our world, my Queen… gods are proud, arrogant. They teach us to slay our enemies, to punish traitors without hesitation. But here… the God they worship teaches love. Forgiveness. Compassion. They helped us… without asking for anything. And because of them, I survived. That… is how I became a priestess."
I couldn't stop the shiver that ran down my spine. My voice caught when I spoke.
"Sending you into this world… without guidance, without knowledge… what if Yuuta had died? How could the Queen… allow such a thing?"
Sister Mary shook her head slowly, a mixture of sorrow and acceptance in her eyes.
"I don't know why the Queen didn't explain… but in the end, I am glad we survived. That is enough."
I lowered my gaze, my chest tightening with gratitude and shame.
"Thank you… Sister Mary," I whispered, my voice raw. "Thank you for enduring so much… for protecting my husband when I couldn't. I will never forget this. I will always be in your debt."
Her eyes softened, and for the first time, I saw her not as a priestess, but as a woman who had carried the weight of another's life on her shoulders—and had survived.
Sister Mary's eyes softened as she spoke, her voice calm yet carrying the weight of her past.
"It's alright, my Queen," she said gently. "Everything happens for a reason. Everyone has their own journey. Mine… mine was filled with suffering, but it was to protect Yuuta. So that one day… you could marry him, and he could understand the value of family."
I blinked, feeling a warmth in my chest.
"Yes… he really is obsessed with family," I said softly, a small, amused smile tugging at my lips.
She chuckled, a sound like wind rustling through leaves. "And after that… as he grew up, hunger shaped him. Starvation forced him to make choices. That's why he decided to become a chef. He wanted to help children who were starving, to make sure no one else would suffer like he did."
I tilted my head, realization dawning. "Ah… that's why he's so obsessed with cooking," I murmured, smiling faintly.
Sister Mary's gaze twinkled, a playful light appearing despite her solemn tone. "I'm sure he forces you to eat his food, right?"
I puffed my cheeks and crossed my arms, frowning in mock frustration. "Of course he does! Don't get me wrong—he makes amazing dishes. But he always uses the spiciest ones for me. Just to… to make me suffer a little. And tease me."
Sister Mary laughed, a warm, gentle sound that made the room feel lighter. "Well… that does sound like Yuuta," she said, shaking her head.
I puffed my cheeks and huffed, crossing my arms. "He's such an idiot! A mortal who only knows how to tease me," I said, letting a small scowl show on my face.
Sister Mary chuckled lightly, her hands folded in front of her as if she had just uncovered a secret. "Sounds like You really do love him, my queen. I never thought I'd see the day when you would fall so deeply for someone."
My cheeks puffed before I could stop myself. "I-It's not like that," I muttered, turning my face away. "I don't love him that much."
Her smile only grew brighter. "I understand, I understand."
I studied her quietly, her amusement still lingering in her expression. A thought crossed my mind, and I tilted my head. "Sister Mary… do you not have a love interest of your own?"
She closed her eyes, as though recalling something fond. "Of course, I do."
"Oh?" My curiosity sharpened. "And who might that be?"
Her lips curved softly as she answered. "The Knight Captain of the Royal Guard. The strongest man in my kingdom, and the only handsome one in my eyes—Captain Robert."
My breath hitched. For a moment, the world stilled. Then a surge of heat coursed through me, and my aura spilled out, unbidden. The air grew heavy, trembling with my rage.
Mary's laughter died in her throat. She Instantly understand my rage, She dropped to her knees in an instant, bowing so low her forehead touched the ground. "Forgive me, my queen! I did not mean to offend you! Please, grant me mercy!"
I inhaled sharply, forcing the storm inside me to settle. Slowly, I pulled the power back into myself, until the suffocating pressure in the room eased. "Stand, Sister Mary. You have done nothing wrong. I… simply lost myself for a moment."
Her eyes flickered with fear as she rose halfway. "Why, my queen? Did Robert… did he do something to you?"
A cold silence filled the space between us before I finally spoke. "In the future, if I ever set foot in your kingdom, do not let me see that man."
She blinked, startled. "Why…? my Queen."
My voice came out like ice. "Because he once laid his hands on my mortal. He tortured Yuuta for a week—mercilessly, without pause. All because he was human, and because of some foolish tie to Sophia's incident. He showed no restraint. No compassion."
Mary's face paled, her lips parting in shock. "T-Torture…in Elf kingdom?" she whispered, shaking her head as if the word itself weighed too much.
"Yes." The memory burned in my chest like fire, though my expression did not waver. "So remember my words, Sister Mary. Do not let him stand before me. If you do, you will curse me for the rest of your life."
Her head dropped again, trembling. "I understand, my queen. I swear it. I will make certain you never cross paths with him."
I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a slow, steadying breath. "I… I am truly sorry, Sister Mary. I let my emotions take over."
She placed a gentle hand over mine, her touch calm and grounding. "It's… understandable, my queen. I know how it feels to discover that the one you love has endured so much. Don't worry. I will make sure, you never cross paths with him."
I forced a small smile, trying to shift the mood. "Sister Mary… tell me. Did you notice anything different about him compared to the other children in the orphanage?"
She tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "Hmm… not at first, no. He seemed… like any other child. Quiet, careful, observant. But nothing extraordinary leapt out at me."
I leaned forward slightly, curiosity tugging at me. "I see… I suppose it's because he was born in a lab. I can't help but wonder… did he have any… unusual abilities? Anything that made him… different?"
Sister Mary's eyes flickered with something unreadable—a shadow of wonder, maybe even worry. She drew in a breath, her voice lowering just a little. "Well… there is one thing I did notice."
I leaned closer, my pulse quickening. "What is it? Tell me, Sister Mary."
She let the moment stretch, savoring it like a secret she had carried for years. Then, finally, she met my eyes and said, with a soft, almost reverent tone…
He was ____
To be continued.