(Isvarn – Grandpa's POV)
The evening air was cool against my old scales as I settled into the balcony's worn stone rail. A soft wind whispered through the trees below, carrying with it the scent of earth and leaves. The sun had nearly vanished, leaving behind long shadows that stretched across the courtyard. For a moment, the world felt still—quiet, as though the day itself was drawing one last, tired breath.
I should have been at peace.
With practiced care, I let my eyes drift half-closed and drew Mana into my core. The flow was faint here, sluggish compared to our realm, but steady enough if one was patient. My palms warmed with its glow. I could almost lose myself in the rhythm of it—pull, filter, absorb, repeat.
And then, without warning, the rhythm broke.
A sharp, tearing sensation ripped through my chest. My body jolted, breath catching in my throat, and before I could steady it—
Khak!
A cough tore free. Something hot splattered against my lips. My claws flew to my mouth. When I looked down, crimson stained my hand.
Blood.
For a long, silent moment, I simply stared. My hand trembled, betraying me. The ache deep in my core gnawed and twisted like a beast trying to claw its way free. I wanted to tell myself I had imagined it, that it was nothing more than fatigue… but no amount of will could wash away the taste of iron on my tongue.
"This… this can't be happening." The words rasped from my throat, half breath, half denial.
I closed my eyes and replayed what I had seen only moments ago. Yuuta… standing before me. His face calm, almost innocent. But behind him—was that… a shadowed hand? A dark figure reaching out and clawing at my Mana core?
My heart lurched.
I blinked hard, trying to banish the vision. But even when I rubbed my eyes, it clung to me, vivid and merciless. That formless silhouette. That thief's hand.
Could it be his power? Or… the curse of Zani Cina?
"No…" My voice cracked into a whisper. "It can't be."
I rubbed my eyes, but the image remained vivid. A formless, dark silhouette reaching out like a thief. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to breathe deeply.
I've read about this before. The old texts, passed down from our ancestors, warned of this exact thing. When one attempts to use Zani Cina improperly, hallucinations follow—visions of a sorrowful woman, forever crying, endlessly repeating, "Her son is in pain…"
She is nothing more than a myth, the scholars claimed. But every one of them spoke of her weeping face with chilling certainty.
A bitter smile tugged at my lips.
"Looks like I've joined the ranks of fools," I muttered to myself. "Hallucinations, are you?"
I sighed, a deep, heavy breath that seemed to sag the air around me.
"Curse this power… Always a heavy price to pay if you use it carelessly."
I pressed a claw against my temple and shook my head. "I'll have to spend the whole night replenishing this Mana if I want to stand as a proper divine being again." I let out another sigh, though it came out more weary than frustrated.
"For now, I'll focus on gathering earthly Mana… something less likely to betray me." I cast a nervous glance toward the door. If Erza knew I'd used Zani Cina, she'd erupt like a volcano. It weakens dragons—sometimes for weeks, sometimes months. She wouldn't forgive me.
I steadied my breathing and turned my attention back to the dull, polluted flow of energy around me. It wasn't like the pure, crystalline Mana from our realm—it was tainted, sluggish, like stagnant water that needed constant filtering.
Still, as I guided the bitter energy into my core, another thought pressed forward, stubborn and heavy.
How had that elf girl survived this long?
The world beyond our realm was harsh. Mana here was thin, poisoned, never enough to sustain one for long. What had she endured? How much pain had she swallowed just to stay by Yuuta's side?
I closed my eyes, but the question would not leave me. And though I tried to shake it away, worry hung over me like a shadow refusing to lift.
Meanwhile:-
(Erza's POV)
"Papa! Sister Mary can see!"
Elena's little voice rang out, sharp and clear, as if she had just uncovered some priceless jewel. Her joy filled the room like sunlight, and I—nearly lost my composure.
Of course. Of course. This little whirlwind of trouble would shout it to the heavens the first chance she got. Why am I never surprised?
I groaned and rubbed at my temple, trying not to let my irritation boil over. "Elena…" I crouched down, scooping her up before she could wriggle further away. I pressed her against me, hoping I could smother both her voice and her excitement. "Please. Don't tell Papa."
She tilted her head at me, wide-eyed and unguarded, like a baby bird blinking at the sky. "But Mama, why? Isn't this good news?"
I blinked, taken aback by her innocence. Good news? She had no idea how dangerous those words could be.
Leaning closer, I whispered, half-growl, half-warning, "If you tell Papa… this will be your last day on earth." I let the menace curl around my words, though even as I said it, I felt the corner of my mouth twitch with reluctant amusement.
Her little lip wobbled. Tears welled instantly, and before I could undo the damage, she let out a heart-splitting wail. "Paaapaaaa! Mama is bad!"
I nearly dropped her in sheer exasperation. "Unbelievable," I muttered, throwing my free hand into the air. "So quick to betray your own mother. My own daughter!"
Before I could try another tactic, Sister Mary stepped forward, calm as ever, and lifted Elena into her arms. The nun's movements were soft, practiced, like someone used to calming storms. "There's no need to cry, little princess," she murmured, her voice warm and steady.
Elena buried her tear-streaked face into Sister Mary's robe, sniffling miserably. "Mama is scary!" she sobbed.
I stood frozen, staring at them both—my child weeping, Sister Mary rocking her gently. Somehow I was the villain again.
And then—
"Elena… are you crying?"
The voice came from the hallway. Yuuta's voice.
My stomach dropped.
The sound of his footsteps followed, slow but steady, crossing from the kitchen into the hall. They grew louder with each second. He was coming closer. If he came even a few steps more, he would reach the bedroom. If he stepped inside and saw Sister Mary—saw her eyes—the seal on his memories could crack wide open.
No. That could not happen.
Sister Mary stiffened. Even she could feel the weight of it. She turned her wide, frightened eyes to me. "My Queen!" she whispered urgently. "Please… stop Yuuta. Just for a little while. I'll take care of Elena. I'll convince Elena to keep the secret."
I narrowed my gaze. "Convince her? With what? She is more stubborn than Yuuta himself."
For a moment, fear flickered—but then her expression firmed into resolve. "I have something that will help me. But I need time, My queen."
Something? What something? I wanted to demand answers, but Yuuta's footsteps were growing closer, each one a countdown hammering in my chest. There was no time for questions.
I inhaled sharply. "Fine. I trust you. But be fast."
"Yes, my Queen." She tightened her hold on Elena, who was still hiccupping in her arms.
And me? I had to deal with the bigger problem. If Yuuta reached that doorway, all would be lost. I straightened, every muscle taut with resolve. Looks like I'd have to throw him off, distract him—catch him with something he would never expect.
I I slipped out into the hallway just as Yuuta's shadow stretched across the floor. My timing was barely enough—I managed to plant myself squarely in front of him, blocking the doorway. If I hadn't… he would have walked straight into the bedroom, straight to Sister Mary—straight to disaster.
He was holding a spatula, of all things, still wearing his apron. A faint whiff of something savory clung to him, making the whole scene feel almost domestic. He looked at me, brow furrowed slightly.
"Erza," he said, voice steady, calm, utterly unaware of the storm behind me. "I heard Elena crying. Is everything alright?"
My heart slammed against my ribs so hard it almost hurt. Just seeing him after only an hour apart was enough to throw me off balance. Why now? Why, when I needed control the most?
I swallowed, forcing a smile. "Well—he's good. I mean, she's good. Nothing to worry about."
Damn it. My tongue betrayed me. Why did I sound so nervous? This was supposed to be simple. Distract him. That's all. But when he was standing this close, it felt impossible.
"Oh I see." He nodded once, thoughtful. "Then… since I've come this far, let me check on Sister Mary too. See how she's doing."
Panic flared through me. Before he could move, I shot both arms out, stretching them across the hall to block his path. "No! Wait, Yuuta."
His eyes widened a fraction. "What? Why? Is something wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," I said quickly—too quickly. "It's just… Sister Mary is telling Elena a story right now."
Yuuta shifted the spatula in his hand, twirling it absentmindedly. A small smile tugged at his lips. "Ahh, that explains it. A scary story, right? No wonder she was crying. Sister Mary does love her horror tales."
A weak laugh escaped me. "Of course she does. She's… she's weird, right, Yuuta?"
He tilted his head, studying me. The smile on his face faded, replaced by something more serious—suspicious, concerned. His gaze lingered, and I felt heat crawl up my neck under the weight of it.
"...Wait," he said softly, his voice dropping with worry. "Why are you acting so weird today?"
I forced a laugh, too high-pitched and brittle. "Weird? I usually like this."
"Usually like this?" His brows knitted. "You know you always go for that boss- Cold type, someone who likes to take charge. But today… you're different.".
I shook my head quickly. "It's just your imagination."
But he didn't look convinced. His eyes searched mine with quiet insistence. "Are you sure you're okay? Are you… having mood swings?"
I flustered, too quick to answer. Mood swings? "No! Of course not. I'm fine. If you want, you can check yourself."
Then Slient, He didn't say anything.
For a heartbeat, I thought I had successfully deflected him.
Then, before I could react, he moved.
The distance between us vanished far too quickly. Without hesitation, he leaned in, his forehead resting gently against my temple. The touch was soft… careful… full of a kind of sincerity that caught me completely off guard.
His hand hovered near my cheek, steady and warm, as if testing whether I had a fever—not because he suspected danger, but because he simply cared.
My breath hitched. I could feel the thump of his heart against my skin, slow and reassuring… and my own pulse surged in response. My face burned so hot it was unbearable. My heart thudded wildly, like it wanted to break free from my chest. Being this close—it was too much. Too dangerous.
He murmured thoughtfully, "Hmm… looks like you don't have a fever. Are you… having periods, Erza?"
"No, no, I'm fine!" I blurted out before I could stop myself, my voice far too high and breathless. The words came out shaky, almost like I was trying to convince myself as much as him.
Yuuta's eyes narrowed, sharp and concerned. "Are you sure, Erza?" he asked, his tone softer now but still probing. "I can feel your heart racing… are you hiding something?"
For a second, my breath caught. My cheeks burned hotter, and my eyes darted away. I can't let him see through me… I forced a shaky smile and quickly tried to shift the topic.
"Yuuta—something's burning!" I cried out, feigning alarm.
His eyes snapped wide open as if a spark had ignited inside his brain. "What?!" He shot upright from where he stood, eyes flaring with panic.
Then he sniffed the air, face contorting. "Ah! My Barbarito sandwich sauce! Holy carp!"
Without giving it another thought, he spun on his heel, the apron flapping wildly behind him like a battle cloak. He dashed down the hallway, muttering to himself, "Gotta save it! Gotta save it!"
The moment he disappeared, I exhaled, clutching at my chest. My heart was still racing, faster than I could steady it. Why was it so hard to keep my composure when he was that close? Why did just one moment of his concern make me feel like this?
I pressed a hand against my burning cheek and whispered under my breath, "Uff… unbelievable."
I slapped my cheeks lightly, trying to snap myself back into focus. "Erza, you idiot," I muttered under my breath. "Calm yourself. You have to protect Sister Mary's secret—for Yuuta's sake."
Yes. Yuuta. He'd run off toward the kitchen, panicked over a sauce that wasn't even burning. But that lie would only hold him for so long. He would come back with questions, and next time I'd need something stronger to distract him.
That was when the idea struck me.
It was bold. Reckless. Embarrassing enough to make me want to crawl into the floor. But… for Yuuta's sake, for Elena's sake, for everyone's sake—I would do it.
I drew in a shaky breath. "I can do this… I have to."
---
(Yuuta POV)
"What the hell?" I muttered, bursting into the kitchen. The air was clean—no smoke, no fire, nothing at all. I checked the stove once. Twice. The flame was off, just as I'd left it.
"…Strange." My brows knitted together. "Erza definitely lied. She's hiding something."
I turned on my heel, ready to march back and ask her directly—
But then I froze.
A sound drifted down the hallway. Soft. Sweet. Like honey melting over warm bread. It curled into my ears and set every nerve on edge.
"My love…"
That voice—Erza's voice. But not the sharp, commanding tone I knew so well. This was… different. Sugary. Playful. Dangerous.
"Yuuta," she called, sweeter than wine. "Are you free right now?"
My throat went dry instantly. I swallowed hard, but it did nothing. My palms grew clammy, and I pointed a shaky finger as she appeared in the doorway. "E-Erza… are you okay?"
She smiled at me—too softly, too warmly. "Yes, I'm perfectly fine… my husband."
Husband? My knees nearly gave out. I gawked at her, words tumbling before I could stop them. "A-Are you sure? Or… do you, um… do you have your periods or something? Because if it's mood swings, then—then I don't know what you'll do next—"
She ignored my flailing. Slowly, deliberately, she closed the distance between us. Each step made my heart pound harder, until my back hit the wall. I had nowhere to run.
She lifted one hand and pressed it against the wall beside my head, leaning closer. The scent of her hair, the warmth of her breath—it was overwhelming. "You smell nice today, husband."
I stammered, heat rushing up my neck. "A-Am I… my wife? Wait, no—what I mean is, are you saying in 'love way,' or are you actually—are you actually planning to… eat my flesh?"
Her eyes narrowed playfully, and she gave a little sniff, tilting her nose toward me like a cat deciding whether to pounce.
With a soft smile curling at her lips, she murmured, "Do you want to… do something naughty?"
---
To be continued..