"WHERE IS IT?" Erza's voice tore through the balcony like a blade, sharp and raw and unlike anything anyone in that room had ever heard. "WHERE IS MY RING?"
Her furious cry echoed against the stone walls and carried across the valley. The families who had been celebrating moments earlier fell silent, clutching their children as they stared at the silver-haired woman holding the vice principal against the balcony railing.
Zeak's feet dangled above the floor, his collar twisted tightly in her grip.
The Headmaster hurried forward, his face pale.
"Mrs. Konuari, please."
"DO NOT SPEAK TO ME." She did not look at him. Her eyes remained on Zeak, gasping, his collar twisted in her grip, his feet dangling. "YOU HAD IT IN YOUR HAND. WHERE DID YOU PUT IT?"
Zeak struggled to answer, but the pressure around his throat prevented him from forming a single word.
The other families began to grow restless.
A man in an expensive suit stepped forward, his face red. "What is happening? What has this man done? We demand answers!"
A woman joined him, her eyes sharp. "Our belongings were taken from us. Our family heirlooms. What has happened to them?"
The balcony erupted into confusion. Parents demanded explanations while frightened children clung to their families. Several security guards approached cautiously, uncertain whether they should intervene or wait for the Headmaster's orders.
Erza ignored them all.
Her attention remained fixed on Zeak. She closed her eyes and extended her magical senses, drawing upon an ancient ability she had rarely used in recent centuries.
Memory reading.
For a brief moment, she searched through the vice principal's memories, tracing the events that had led to the disappearance of the offerings.
Then her eyes snapped open.
She released him.
Zeak collapsed onto the floor, coughing violently as he clutched his throat. Before anyone could question her, Erza turned and rushed out of the balcony.
She hurried through the palace corridors, passing startled servants and guards who instinctively stepped aside. Her footsteps echoed along the stone passageways as she descended the stairs and emerged onto the lawn where the fireworks had been launched.
Several technicians were still packing away their equipment, and the faint smell of gunpowder lingered in the night air.
Erza stopped in the middle of the field.
The grass had been trampled during the preparations, and scattered fragments from the fireworks lay across the ground. Beyond the academy stretched an enormous valley surrounded by forests, mountains, and a winding river.
Somewhere out there was her ring.
She stared into the darkness, her chest rising and falling as she tried to comprehend what had happened.
For the first time in centuries, the White Dragon Queen had lost something she couldn't simply recover through force.
_________
Back on the balcony, Yuuta stood motionless.
He had seen Erza furious before. He had witnessed her freeze a lion during an attack and threaten anyone who dared harm Elena. He knew how terrifying she could become when her anger was awakened.
But he had never seen her so desperate.
Erza had told him that the ring was old, something she had possessed for centuries. She had insisted that it was time to let it go, and he had accepted her explanation because he wanted to believe she was making that sacrifice willingly.
For Elena.
For their daughter's future.
No. It was for the future I wanted to build. It was my own greed that cost her something so precious.
The realization struck Yuuta painfully. He had become so obsessed with securing Elena's admission that he had never stopped to question whether she actually needed this school.
Perhaps it was because he had never experienced such a prestigious education himself. Somewhere deep inside, he had begun imagining the childhood he wished he could have had, convincing himself that giving Elena those opportunities was his duty as her father.
But Elena was no ordinary child. She was a princess, the daughter of the White Dragon Queen, whose wealth and influence surpassed that of entire realms. She already possessed opportunities that countless children could only dream of.
She didn't need this academy to have a bright future.
Then why was I so desperate to get her admitted?
Yuuta lowered his gaze, ashamed of the answer he was beginning to understand. He had called it a sacrifice for his daughter's sake, but in reality, he had been chasing a dream that belonged to him, not Elena.
And because of that foolish obsession, he had allowed Erza to surrender something irreplaceable. Something she had carried from her homeland, something that had belonged to her long before he was born.
He hadn't even bothered to ask what the ring meant to her.
Elena gently tugged at his sleeve.
Her small face was wet with tears, and her frightened eyes searched his expression.
"Papa? Why did Mama react that way? Papa, what happened? Why is everyone screaming?"
Yuuta looked down at his daughter.
How could he explain that her mother had lost something precious because of him? How could he make a four-year-old understand the meaning of a family heirloom that had survived for centuries?
He opened his mouth, but no words came.
Before he could think of an answer, the Headmaster stepped forward and bowed.
The gesture immediately drew everyone's attention.
The old man had spent years commanding the respect of nobles, wealthy families, and influential officials. Seeing him lower his head in apology was enough to quiet the nearest parents.
"I am deeply ashamed," he said. His voice was quiet, but it always carried. "Our vice principal made a terrible mistake. He was helping with the fireworks display. He did not realize the bag containing your offerings was caught on one of the rockets."
Several parents exchanged horrified glances.
A woman gasped, while a man raised his hand to his mouth.
"The rocket launched. The bag burned. Your offerings were lost, scattered across the valley. We will search for them as long as it takes. But you must understand, the field is large. The forest is dense. The river runs fast. It may be days. It may be weeks. It may be."
The Headmaster fell silent.
He didn't need to finish.
The families understood what he was trying to say, and their anger erupted once more.
Parents shouted over one another, demanding compensation and explanations. Some accused the academy of negligence, while others questioned how such a careless mistake could have occurred during an event involving valuable family possessions.
The Headmaster raised his hands.
"Please, I understand your frustration. We will do everything we can to."
"To what?" A man stepped forward, his face red, his voice carrying the authority of someone used to being listened to. "The rocket reached temperatures high enough to melt metal. Even if the bag survived, the contents would be scattered across miles of forest. Do you have any idea how many resources it would take to search that area? How much money? How much time?"
The Headmaster tried to respond, but the man interrupted him again.
"You know as well as I do that the probability of finding anything is zero. Those offerings have been gone since the moment your idiot vice principal let go of that bag."
A troubled silence briefly spread among the nearest families.
The man had voiced what many of them were already thinking. The rocket had been designed to produce an enormous fireworks display, and the heat generated during its launch could easily have destroyed the delicate objects inside the pouch.
Even if some belongings had survived, recovering them from the surrounding valley would be an almost impossible task.
The Headmaster lowered his hands.
He had no convincing answer.
Meanwhile, Elena pressed both hands over her ears.
The shouting frightened her. She had spent the day trying to be brave, but the anger surrounding her was becoming unbearable.
"Papa," she said, her voice smaller than he had ever heard it. "Papa, humans are so loud."
Yuuta looked at his daughter.
She was only four years old. She didn't understand the academy's rules, the value of the lost offerings, or why so many adults were suddenly shouting at one another.
All she knew was that her mother had disappeared and everyone around her was angry.
Yuuta stepped forward.
"SILENT."
His voice cut through the chaos.
The shouting stopped so abruptly that several parents turned toward him in surprise. No one understood why they had obeyed, but something about the young man's command had made them instinctively fall silent.
Yuuta lowered himself onto the stone floor, his hands resting against the cold surface as he tried to steady his breathing.
Elena watched him with confusion, uncertain why her father had suddenly knelt before everyone.
The Headmaster took advantage of the silence.
"I am deeply sorry. I understand your frustration. Please, give us time. We will search for the offerings. We will do everything in our power to recover them."
A woman spoke from the back of the crowd, her voice quieter now. "But what if you cannot find them? What if they are gone? We have lost things that cannot be replaced. Things that have been in our families for generations."
The Headmaster closed his eyes.
He understood her concern. Many of the offerings were not merely expensive possessions but heirlooms carrying generations of family history.
Money could compensate for their material value.
It could never replace the memories attached to them.
Nevertheless, he had to offer the families something.
"If we cannot find them," he said, "the academy will pay ten times their value. And we will cancel the scholarship test for your families. You will be admitted without further condition."
The families exchanged astonished looks.
It was an extraordinary offer. Their children would receive admission without completing the remaining scholarship requirements, and they would be compensated generously if their belongings could not be recovered.
For many, it was more than enough.
Some parents began discussing the offer quietly, weighing their anger against the opportunity now being presented to them.
Others remained reluctant. A woman who had surrendered her grandmother's ring looked particularly troubled, but even she understood that refusing the offer wouldn't bring the heirloom back.
Gradually, the families began leaving the balcony.
Some departed angrily, others with visible relief. A few were already discussing how the compensation might benefit their households.
They had come to secure their children's futures.
Now that goal was guaranteed.
But Yuuta remained where he was.
He knelt on the cold stone floor, his head lowered as the sound of departing footsteps echoed around him.
He barely noticed the families leaving.
His thoughts remained fixed on Erza.
He had come to the academy hoping to give Elena a better future. He had borrowed what he could, endured humiliation, and accepted whatever sacrifices seemed necessary to provide his daughter with an opportunity.
But somewhere along the way, he had allowed Erza to lose something far more precious than the scholarship itself.
Her mother's ring.
He had gained the very thing he wanted for Elena, yet he couldn't feel even the slightest happiness.
Because Erza had paid the price.
___________
After the last family departed, the Headmaster turned toward Yuuta.
The young man was still kneeling, now holding Elena against his chest. Exhausted by the day's events, the little girl had fallen asleep in his arms, her silver hair resting against his clothes.
The Headmaster approached slowly.
"Mr. Konuari," he said. "I am extremely sorry."
Yuuta didn't respond.
He was looking down at Elena, watching the gentle rise and fall of her breathing.
The Headmaster stopped beside him.
"Please. Tell me what to do. Anything. Anything you want. I will do it."
Yuuta remained silent.
The old man hesitated before making another offer.
"If you want, I can give you the scholarship. Direct admission. No test. No conditions. Your daughter will have everything we promised."
Yuuta finally raised his head.
His face was pale, and his red eyes reflected the exhaustion and guilt he had been struggling to contain.
"I do not want a scholarship. I do not want anything. I want my wife's ring back."
The Headmaster's expression changed.
He had expected anger, demands for compensation, perhaps even threats. Instead, the young man was asking for the one thing the academy might no longer be able to provide.
The Headmaster knew how powerful the rocket had been. Its launch had generated enough heat to destroy metal, and the surrounding valley was far too vast to search quickly.
He reluctantly explained the situation.
"The rocket was Chinese-made," he said. "Custom design. The temperature was high enough to destroy the ring. Even if it survived, the valley is vast, the forest dense, the river fast. It would take an army to search it, and there is no guarantee."
He stopped when he noticed Yuuta's expression.
The young man wasn't arguing.
He wasn't demanding that the academy send soldiers or organize a search party.
Instead, he seemed to be considering something.
"Can we stay?" he asked. "Can we stay here until I find it?"
The Headmaster stared at him.
He had dealt with countless parents over the years, many of whom would have seized the opportunity to demand compensation or special privileges.
But Yuuta wanted neither.
He only wanted permission to search.
For several moments, the Headmaster couldn't find the words to answer.
Yuuta slowly stood, carefully adjusting Elena in his arms. The little girl remained asleep, unaware of the conversation taking place around her.
He waited quietly.
Finally, the Headmaster stepped forward and gently accepted Elena from him.
She stirred slightly, murmuring something in her sleep before settling against the old man's chest.
"Take as long as you need," he said.
Yuuta nodded.
He turned toward the stairs leading down to the field, where the night stretched across the enormous valley.
He didn't know whether the ring had survived.
He didn't know how long it might take to search the field or whether he would ever find it.
But he had made up his mind.
He would search until he found it.
Behind him, the Headmaster remained on the balcony, holding Elena in his arms as he watched Yuuta disappear into the darkness.
To Be Continued...