Location: The Church of Saint Sharon Michael
The Church of Saint Sharon Michael stood at the edge of the city, its stone walls worn by decades of rain and wind, its spire pointing toward heaven. It was not the grand kind of church that appeared on postcards. It was old and humble, built by people who had little but had given what they could to something they believed would last.
Inside, children ran through the halls, their laughter echoing against stone walls. A sister chased them across floors worn smooth by generations of small feet, her habit flapping as she called after them in mock anger.
"Slow down! You will hurt yourselves! The Lord did not give you legs to run wild through His house!"
The children did not slow. This was their home, and they knew they were loved here. They had arrived from streets, doorsteps, and places where no one wanted them, carrying little beyond their clothes and the fear in their eyes. Within these walls, they had found beds, food, and the unfamiliar comfort of being wanted.
Their laughter filled the church, but one room remained quiet.
The Saint Room lay at the end of the hall, beyond the chapel and library, past the doors leading to the garden. It was small and humble like the church itself, yet clean and warm. Something about the presence within made people lower their voices as they passed.
Sister Mary sat at her desk with her hands folded, her face turned toward the morning light. Pale golden hair fell over her shoulders in waves, catching the sunlight. Her youthful face often made visitors pause and wonder who she was and why she had chosen to spend her life here.
A strip of white cloth covered her eyes and ears. Some said she had been born blind; others believed an injury had left her that way before she came to the church. There were even whispers that she concealed something far more extraordinary. Mary never addressed the rumors, and no one dared ask.
She was the heart of this place. When she arrived, the roof leaked, the walls cracked, and children went to bed hungry. She brought donors, contacts, and the discipline needed to turn their generosity into lasting support. Under her guidance, the church became a home where children could grow without wondering whether they would eat the next day.
People called her blessed, beautiful, an elf who had wandered into the human world and decided to stay. She paid little attention. There was always work waiting.
That morning, a sister had brought her a letter after noticing its postmark. Mary had felt its weight and traced an unfamiliar hand across the address before opening it. Her fingers moved over the page, reading through touch, through texture, through the shape of ink against paper.
Her breath caught.
She traced the report again. One of the sisters had seen Yuuta near the shopping center—with a woman and a child.
Mary set the letter down. Her hands were steady, her face calm, but her heart raced.
Yuuta. Her Yuuta.
Seven years ago, she had come to this church with a mysterious boy who was lost, fragile, and barely clinging to life. Elijah had saved them that day, offering shelter when they had nowhere else to go.
She had raised that boy with her own hands, taught him patiently, and loved him as her child. As he grew into a man, his calls remained a familiar comfort in her life.
Then, a year ago, they stopped.
She had told herself he was busy and would call when he was ready. Surely he hadn't forgotten her, the church, or the home they had found together.
Mary slapped the letter onto her desk. The sharp sound made the sister waiting by the door jump.
"Ready the car," Sister Mary said. Her voice was calm, but something beneath it prompted the sister to move without question. "We are going to my Yuuta's home."
The sister nodded and hurried out. Mary rose and approached the window, tracing its frame as she turned toward the light.
Beneath her anger lay hurt—and fear of what she would discover. Why had he stopped calling and visiting? How had the boy she raised disappeared so completely from her life?
She draped her cloak over her shoulders and walked toward the door. Her steps remained slow and deliberate, giving no sign of her racing heart.
"Let us see," she said to the empty room, "how far this truth goes."
____________________
Yuuta woke to evening sunlight filtering through the curtains, casting warm patterns across the ceiling. His hands were freshly bandaged, and although Erza had healed most of his injuries, the remaining wounds still ached beneath the cloth. His body felt heavy from the exhaustion of the previous night, but the long sleep had restored some of his strength.
As he turned his head, he noticed Erza sleeping in the chair beside him.
Her arms were folded on the mattress, with her head resting upon them. Silver hair spilled across the white sheets, and without her usual cold expression, she looked surprisingly peaceful.
Yuuta watched her for a moment.
He had expected her to return to Elena once his condition stabilized. Instead, she had remained beside him, apparently falling asleep while keeping watch.
Considering how often she called him pathetic and threatened to kill him, the sight was difficult to understand.
Still, he couldn't help smiling.
Thank you, Erza.
He slowly sat up and examined his bandaged hands. They were still sore, but he could move his fingers without much difficulty.
When he stood, his legs felt unsteady after spending so many hours asleep. He supported himself against the bed until he was comfortable moving again.
Erza remained asleep.
Yuuta glanced at the bed, then back at her chair. Sleeping in such an uncomfortable position couldn't be pleasant, especially after everything that had happened.
He hesitated before carefully sliding one arm beneath her shoulders and the other beneath her knees.
To his surprise, she was lighter than he expected.
Erza stirred slightly as he lifted her, causing him to stop.
He remembered what had happened the last time he tried waking her without warning. Her instincts were terrifying, and he had no desire to spend another afternoon trapped inside ice.
Fortunately, she merely shifted against him before settling again.
That's unusual.
For someone who rarely allowed him to approach without suspicion, she seemed remarkably comfortable.
Yuuta carried her to the bed and gently lowered her onto the mattress. He pulled the sheets over her shoulders, making sure she was comfortable before stepping away.
That was when he noticed the ring on her finger.
Its appearance had changed.
A beautiful white dragon now coiled around the silver band, its wings spread gracefully while its claws held a delicate flower with a violet gemstone at its center.
Yuuta examined the ornament with curiosity.
Wasn't this ring different before?
He remembered finding the precious ring after searching the academy grounds throughout the night. At the time, it had looked nothing like this.
Then he noticed something equally strange.
There was a ring on his own finger.
A black dragon curled around the band, its red eyes reflecting the evening light. In its claws rested a small crimson gemstone that emitted a faint glow.
Yuuta raised his hand, examining it from different angles.
How did this get here?
He didn't remember putting it on.
He also couldn't understand how Erza's single ornament had apparently become two separate rings.
After considering the mystery for a moment, he decided there was little point in worrying about something he couldn't explain.
Perhaps Erza would tell him when she woke.
He stretched his arms, wincing slightly as his stiff muscles protested.
"I am really hungry," he said to the empty room.
As he looked around for something to eat, a letter resting on the nearby desk caught his attention.
The envelope bore the official crest of Morning Star Elite Academy.
And beneath it was written:
To the Konuari Family.
Yuuta approached the desk and picked it up. Curious, he carefully broke the seal and unfolded the letter inside.
He began reading.
The Konuari family has been accepted into the Morning Star Elite Academy on a full scholarship. Elena Konuari will begin her studies next month. We congratulate you on your success and look forward to welcoming your family to our community.
Yuuta stopped.
He read the letter again, making sure he hadn't misunderstood anything.
A full scholarship.
Elena had been accepted.
For a moment, he simply stood there, staring at the official document.
He remembered the exhausting preparations, the interviews, and the countless mistakes he had made throughout the examinations.
Most of all, he remembered the previous night, when he had abandoned any thought of securing the scholarship because finding Erza's ring had become more important.
He had believed their opportunity was gone.
Yet somehow, Elena had been accepted.
We did it...
His eyes grew moist as he looked toward the sleeping Erza.
Our daughter got in.
Before he could think of anything else, the door suddenly opened.
Small footsteps hurried into the room.
"PAPA!"
Yuuta turned just in time to see Elena launch herself toward him with her arms outstretched.
Unfortunately, his weakened legs weren't prepared for the impact.
"Whoa!"
He lost his balance and fell backward onto the carpet, with Elena landing safely against his chest.
The little girl burst into laughter, apparently delighted by their unexpected tumble.
"Papa! Papa! Elena loves this place!" She pulled back, eyes shining. "There are so many rooms! So many gardens! So many people to play with! Elena made so many friends!"
Yuuta chuckled and gently brushed a strand of silver hair away from her face.
Seeing her so excited made the news feel even more wonderful.
"I am glad you like it, my princess," he said. "I hope you will make many friends here. I hope you will be happy here. I hope you will have everything you deserve."
Elena giggled before pointing toward the doorway.
"Papa, look! The Headmaster is here!"
Yuuta looked up.
The Headmaster stood near the entrance, his hands clasped behind his back. A warm smile appeared on his face as he watched the father and daughter sitting on the floor.
Yuuta quickly helped Elena stand before getting to his feet.
He straightened his clothes, adjusted his hair, and remembered the lessons Erza had given him about proper etiquette.
"It is a pleasure to see you again, Headmaster," he said, offering a respectful bow.
The Headmaster smiled.
"Do not be so formal, Mr. Konuari. After what your family has been through, I think we can dispense with the formalities."
His attention shifted toward the letter in Yuuta's hand.
"I see you've already read the announcement."
Yuuta glanced at the paper.
"Yes, sir. But..."
He hesitated.
"Congratulations," the Headmaster said. "You have been accepted into the scholarship program. Your daughter will begin her studies next month."
Yuuta looked at him, still struggling to understand how everything had happened.
"But how? I do not remember taking any test. I do not remember..."
He stopped as memories of the previous night returned.
The field.
The darkness.
His injured hands.
And Erza's expression when he finally returned her ring.
None of those things seemed connected to an academic scholarship.
The Headmaster appeared to understand his confusion.
He reached into his coat and withdrew a thick envelope bearing the academy's official seal.
"We have prepared a detailed report of the test," he explained, handing it to Yuuta. "It contains the judges' evaluations, your family's results, and the reasons behind our final decision."
Yuuta accepted the envelope.
"The judges' evaluations?"
"Indeed."
The Headmaster gestured toward a nearby chair.
"Perhaps I should explain a few things first."
Yuuta nodded.
The Headmaster continued.
"As you know, Elena had already passed her individual assessment. Her intelligence, confidence, and ability to learn impressed our professors. From an academic standpoint, there was never any doubt about her potential."
Yuuta glanced toward Elena, who was now examining a decorative vase near the doorway.
"However," the Headmaster continued, "the scholarship program evaluates more than a child's abilities. We also examine the environment in which that child will grow up."
Yuuta listened carefully.
"Many wealthy families apply to this academy every year. Some genuinely care about their children's education. Others are more interested in the prestige that comes with having their family name associated with Morning Star."
The Headmaster paused.
"That is why we introduced a separate family assessment for scholarship applicants."
Yuuta looked down at the envelope.
"Then... what exactly was the test?"
"Do you remember when Vice Principal Zeak asked each family to surrender something precious?"
"Yes."
"Those offerings were meant to represent something the families considered irreplaceable. A wedding ring, an old photograph, a treasured heirloom—something whose importance could not be measured simply by its price."
Yuuta nodded.
He remembered how casually some families had surrendered their belongings, while others had spent considerable time discussing their value.
"The loss of those offerings created an unexpected situation," the Headmaster continued. "Rather than judging families by what they claimed to value, we had an opportunity to observe what they actually valued when faced with losing something precious."
Yuuta raised his eyes.
"An unexpected situation?"
The Headmaster nodded.
"Yes. The loss itself was not intended to happen. It was an unfortunate mistake. However, once the situation arose, we observed how each family responded."
He folded his hands behind his back.
"We offered compensation. Some families accepted it reasonably, while others attempted to exploit the situation by exaggerating the value of their belongings. A few were more concerned about receiving money than recovering what they had lost."
Yuuta remained silent.
He remembered seeing several families arguing with the academy officials while he was preparing to search for Erza's ring.
"Now, Mr. Konuari, I want you to understand something. Accepting compensation for a lost possession is not inherently wrong. The academy does not expect every parent to injure themselves searching for something that may never be recovered."
The Headmaster's expression grew serious.
"What mattered was the reasoning behind each family's decisions. We wanted to understand whether their actions reflected the values they had spoken about during their interviews."
Yuuta considered his words.
"But I abandoned the scholarship."
"Yes," the Headmaster replied. "You did."
He smiled faintly.
"When I offered you the very thing you had come here to obtain, you refused it."
Yuuta lowered his gaze.
He remembered that moment clearly.
He had wanted Elena to attend Morning Star more than anything. Yet when he learned that Erza's ring was missing, the thought of accepting a scholarship while abandoning something precious to his wife had felt unbearable.
The Headmaster continued.
"You told me that your daughter's future was important, but that you could not build that future by ignoring your wife's suffering."
Yuuta looked up.
"You understood that Elena needed more than an expensive education. She needed a family that would stand beside one another when something went wrong."
The Headmaster glanced toward Erza, who was still sleeping peacefully on the bed.
"Your wife had surrendered something deeply precious for the sake of your daughter's opportunity. And when that treasure was lost, you were willing to sacrifice the very opportunity you had worked so hard to obtain in order to recover it."
He returned his attention to Yuuta.
"That is why your family received the highest evaluation in the scholarship assessment."
Yuuta stared at him.
The Headmaster smiled.
"But I will tell you this now," he said. "You were selected because when you thought you had lost something precious, you did not ask for compensation. You did not ask for money. You did not ask for anything except the chance to search for what was lost."
He paused, remembering the previous night.
"You spent eight hours searching the academy grounds. Even when you were exhausted and injured, you refused to leave without making every effort to recover the ring."
His expression softened.
"That determination was extraordinary, Mr. Konuari. But what impressed me most was not how long you searched. It was why you searched."
Yuuta glanced toward Erza.
She remained asleep, her silver hair spread across the pillow.
"You weren't searching because someone ordered you to," the Headmaster continued. "You were searching because you understood how much that ring meant to your wife."
He smiled.
"That is the test, Mr. Konuari. That is why your daughter is here."
Yuuta stared at the Headmaster in disbelief, then looked down at the report in his hands.
"You've got to be kidding me, right?" he muttered.
He wanted to be angry. No, he had every reason to be angry. The entire situation had begun with the academy losing something precious to Erza, and what followed had nearly cost him his life. He remembered her expression when she learned the ring was missing, the pain she had tried so desperately to conceal, and the long night he had spent searching for it.
And now the Headmaster was telling him that their suffering had become part of a scholarship assessment.
Yuuta opened his mouth, ready to protest, but his gaze fell upon Elena. She was standing near the window, happily admiring the gardens outside, completely unaware of the conversation taking place.
He remembered why they had come here in the first place.
Elena was going to school. Not just any school, but one of the most prestigious academies in the world. She would receive an education he could never have dreamed of during his childhood, and she was already looking forward to making new friends.
How could he ruin that moment for her?
Yuuta looked back at the Headmaster. He still disliked how the academy had handled everything, and receiving a scholarship didn't suddenly make those mistakes acceptable. But seeing Elena so happy made it difficult to hold on to his anger.
He let out a long sigh and lowered the report.
"Thank you," he said at last, his voice quieter. "Thank you for giving her a chance."
The Headmaster shook his head.
"We did not give her a chance, Mr. Konuari. You did. You and your wife. The scholarship is yours. You earned it."
Yuuta smiled, looking down at the documents.
The Headmaster offered a small bow before turning toward the doorway.
"Get some rest," he said. "You have earned it."
With that, he departed, leaving the family alone.
Yuuta remained standing for a moment, holding the acceptance letter and the detailed report.
He had spent so much time worrying about Elena's admission that he hadn't considered what would happen if they actually succeeded.
Now the answer was right in front of him.
Elena would attend Morning Star Academy.
She would have the opportunity to study, make friends, and experience a childhood filled with possibilities.
A small hand tugged at his sleeve.
"Papa, why are you crying? Did something bad happen?"
Yuuta looked down.
Elena stood beside him, her red eyes filled with concern.
He hadn't realized that a few tears had escaped while he was speaking with the Headmaster.
He knelt and pulled her into his arms.
"No, little one. Nothing bad happened. Something good happened. Something very good."
She wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled against his shoulder.
"Good," she said. "Then why are you crying?"
Yuuta laughed softly.
"Because I am happy," he said. "Because I am so happy."
Elena pulled back and wiped his cheeks with her small hands.
"Papa is silly," she said. "Crying because he is happy."
He chuckled and lifted her into his arms.
"Yes," he said. "Papa is silly. Papa is very, very silly."
Elena laughed as he gently spun her around before setting her down again.
She immediately hurried toward the window, pressing her little hands against the glass as she admired the gardens outside.
Yuuta watched her for a moment.
Then his attention returned to Erza.
She was still sleeping, completely unaware of the conversation that had taken place.
The white dragon on her ring glowed faintly, while the black dragon on his finger emitted a matching light.
He still didn't understand what the rings meant.
Nor did he know what would happen when the year Erza had given him finally came to an end.
But those questions could wait.
For now, Elena was happy.
And Erza was resting peacefully.
Yuuta sat beside the bed and opened the report the Headmaster had given him. As he began reading through the academy's evaluations, he occasionally glanced toward his wife, remembering everything she had done to help him reach this moment.
At the window, Elena suddenly called out.
"Papa, look at the garden! There are so many flowers! Can we go there? Can we go today?"
Yuuta smiled without looking up from the report.
"Soon," he said. "Soon, little Princess."
To Be Continued...