Breakfast had come and gone, the plates cleared and washed, the leftovers wrapped and tucked away in the refrigerator.
The morning sun had climbed higher, filling the small apartment with a warm, golden light that made everything feel softer, gentler, almost dreamlike.
Elena had settled on the floor with her crayons and paper, her tongue poking out in concentration as she drew what appeared to be a family of dragons flying over a castle. Her wings fluttered occasionally, and her tail wagged whenever she finished a particularly good shape.
Erza lay on the sofa, a book open in her hands, her silver hair spilling over the armrest. She appeared to be reading, her violet eyes moving across the pages with practiced focus. But if anyone had been paying close attention—really close attention—they might have noticed that her eyes had not moved in several minutes. They were fixed on the same paragraph, the same line, the same word, while her attention was elsewhere.
It was on Yuuta.
He sat at the other end of the sofa, his phone in his hands, scrolling through news articles with a furrowed brow. He had been at it for nearly an hour, ever since breakfast ended, and his expression had grown more troubled with each passing minute. Erza watched him from behind her book, peeking over the edge like a schoolgirl with a secret crush, her heart beating a little faster each time he sighed or shook his head.
She did not understand why she was watching him. She did not understand why her eyes kept drifting to his face, to his hands, to the way his hair fell across his forehead. She did not understand why she felt warm whenever he was near, or why she had slept so peacefully with her head on his shoulder. She told herself it was nothing—just curiosity, just habit, just the lingering effects of the grief that had consumed her the night before.
But she knew she was lying.
Elena, oblivious to the tension in the room, held up her drawing.
"Papa! Look! I drew a dragon!"
Yuuta looked up from his phone and smiled. "That's beautiful, sweetheart. Is that Mama?"
" Yes! And this is Papa, and this is Elena, and this is our castle!"
She pointed to each figure in turn, her small finger tracing the crayon lines. Yuuta nodded and praised her work, but his mind was elsewhere. He looked back at his phone, scrolling through the news feed, searching for something—anything—about the storm, the port, the destruction that had happened less than twelve hours ago.
There was nothing.
He searched for "Luna City storm," "port explosion," "mass killing," "supernatural event." Nothing. He searched for "dragon sighting," "strange weather," "government cover-up." Still nothing. The only articles that appeared were about a routine gang raid, a weather anomaly that had passed quickly, and a construction project at the port that had been planned for months.
It was as if the world had been erased and rewritten. As if the storm had never happened. As if forty-five men had not died in a frozen port, as if the ocean had not been frozen solid, as if a dragon had not almost ended the world.
"Unbelievable," Yuuta muttered, scrolling through another article.
Erza turned a page in her book, though she had not read a single word.
"What is unbelievable, mortal?" she asked, her voice flat and disinterested.
Yuuta looked up at her, his brow furrowed.
"I was searching for news about the destruction yesterday," he said. "The storm, the port, everything that happened. But I cannot find anything. It is like none of it ever happened."
Erza turned another page. "What do you mean, none of it ever happened?"
"I mean there is nothing," Yuuta said, scrolling through his phone. "The only articles I can find say that a storm hit the city and caused some minor damage. They say the port was raided by the LBI and that dozens of gang members were killed in a single operation. But nothing about—" He stopped, not knowing how to finish the sentence. Nothing about her. Nothing about the dragon. Nothing about the truth.
Erza sighed, her voice carrying a note of weary patience.
"Perhaps that clingy human group did this," she said.
"Clingy human group?" Yuuta asked, confused.
"That girl with the black hair," Erza said. "I believe her name was Fiona."
Yuuta's blood ran cold. "Fiona? What does Fiona have to do with any of this?"
Erza set down her book and looked at him, her violet eyes steady and unblinking.
"She is part of an organization that deals with supernatural threats," Erza said. "She fought me last night at the port. It was a one-sided fight, of course, but she was skilled. Better than I expected from a human."
Yuuta stared at her, his mind refusing to process what he was hearing. Fiona had fought Erza? Fiona was part of some secret organization? Fiona—the girl who had sat beside him in that classroom, who had held his hand when he was scared, who had begged him to run away with her—was a secret agent?
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
Erza sighed and reached out, pressing her finger against his temple. A stream of memories flowed from her to him—not words, not images, but the feeling of the fight, the clash of swords against skin, the desperation in Fiona's eyes as she swung her blade again and again. He saw Erza standing still, taking the blows, refusing to strike back. He saw Fiona weeping, screaming, falling to her knees. He saw the masked figures who had come to help her, the ones in the lion mask and the fox mask.
He saw the soldiers outside the port, the ones in black uniforms, the ones who had tried to stop him.
When the memories faded, Yuuta sat in silence, his phone forgotten in his lap, his mind spinning. Fiona was a secret agent. She had been fighting demons and monsters and gods knew what else while he was studying for exams and learning to cook. She had been protecting him, maybe, or watching him, or waiting for something he did not understand.
He remembered Loid's words from that day on the rooftop, the anger in his voice, the pain in his eyes.
"Do you have any idea how much we sacrificed to ensure that bastards like you could be safe in this world? All because of us, you get to breathe!"
He remembered the mention of Japan, of her parents, of something that had happened that she was still healing from.
Fiona was a secret agent.
Erza watched him process the information, watched his face cycle through confusion and shock and something that looked like betrayal. She picked up her book and pretended to read, but her eyes kept drifting back to him.
"Humans are always the same," she said, her voice cold. "Liar, betrayer, traitor, bastard."
Yuuta did not respond. He was staring at his phone, but he was not seeing it. His mind was piecing together the fragments of information he had gathered over the years—the strange gaps in Fiona's schedule, the times she had disappeared without explanation, the way she always seemed to know things she should not know. It all made sense now. It all fit together.
She had been protecting him.
Erza watched him from the corner of her eye, pretending to read, pretending not to care. But she saw everything—the way his brow furrowed, the way his fingers tightened around his phone, the way his shoulders tensed with each article he read. He was overthinking again, spinning himself into a web of worry and confusion, and she could not stand to watch it any longer.
She picked up her book and threw it at his face.
It hit him square in the nose.
"Ouch!" Yuuta yelped, dropping his phone and clutching his face. "What was that for?"
"Do not think too much," Erza said, her voice flat, her eyes already back on her book. "It will only steal your peace."
Yuuta froze, his hand still pressed to his nose. He looked at her—at the way she held her book, at the way her eyes were fixed on the pages, at the way her cheeks were just slightly pink. Did she just say that because she was worried about me?
He shook his head and rubbed his nose.
"You are right," he said. "Maybe I should just ask her directly. Get the truth from her face to face."
The temperature in the room dropped.
Yuuta felt the chill crawl up his spine, spreading from the base of his neck to the tips of his fingers. He looked at Erza. Her eyes were no longer on her book. They were on him, cold and sharp, like daggers made of ice.
"I said do not think too much because I was worried about you," she said, her voice cold enough to freeze blood. "But you are thinking about asking that stinky human? After everything I told you?"
Yuuta's face went pale. He knew that tone. He knew that look. He had overstepped, and now he was going to pay for it.
"No, I mean—" He stumbled over his words, searching for an explanation that would not make things worse. "I cannot sleep without knowing the truth. I just want to—"
"I know you had feelings for that stinky human," Erza said, her voice cutting through his excuses like a blade.
Yuuta's eyes went wide. His mouth opened, but no words came out. How did she know? He had never told her about his past with Fiona. He had never mentioned the rooftop, the confession, the years of friendship that had blurred into something more. And yet she knew. She always knew.
"Trust me, mortal," Erza continued, her voice cold and steady, her eyes never leaving his face. "If I see you talking to her again—or engaging in any activity that involves the two of you—I will remove your manhood with my claw. I will make you my personal eunuch for the rest of your life. You will serve me and only me, and you will regret every moment of it."
Yuuta's face went from pale to horrified. His hands flew to his lap, as if protecting something precious, and his eyes widened with terror.
"Me? A eunuch? No way!" he stammered, his voice high and shaky.
Erza smiled. It was not a kind smile. It was the smile of someone who had seen things, who had done things, who would not hesitate to do them again.
"Then do not push me to do it. Understand?"
She picked up her book and opened it to the page she had been reading and said
Erza's voice was cold as she delivered her final decree, though her heart was pounding in a way she could not control.
"And one more thing," she said, her eyes fixed on her book, her voice steady despite the chaos inside her. "From today onward, I will be reviewing your memories every day after you return from college."
Yuuta's head snapped up from where he had been rubbing his sore backside. "What? What do you mean, reviewing? Where is my privacy?"
Erza's eyes narrowed, and her voice dropped to a temperature that could freeze blood.
"You dare ask for privacy?" she said. "After I discovered what a womanizer you are?"
"Womanizer?" Yuuta's voice rose in protest, genuine offense coloring his words. "No, trust me, I am not some playboy. You are the only woman I have ever—" He paused, the words catching in his throat. Then, with a boldness that surprised even himself, he finished. "You are the only woman I lost my virginity to."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken, and the room seemed to hold its breath.
Erza's face turned red. Not the pale pink of mild embarrassment, but a deep, burning crimson that spread from her cheeks to her ears to the base of her neck. Her voice, when it came, was shaky, uncertain, nothing like the cold tone she usually wielded like a weapon.
"What... what do you mean, I am the first?"
She hid her face behind her book, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. She tried to maintain her composure, to keep her voice cold and steady, but it came out strained, almost breathless.
"Did I ask?" she said, the words muffled by the pages. "Did I ask who you slept with, you pervert? You bastard!"
Yuuta stared at her, confused by the sudden shift in her demeanor. One moment she was threatening to make him a eunuch, and the next she was hiding behind her book like a blushing schoolgirl. He tilted his head, studying her, trying to read the expression beneath the mask. Was she blushing? Was she nervous? Her face was cold, but something about her posture seemed different.
"You bastard," Erza said again, her voice sharper now. "Do not look at me. Go away!"
She kicked him off the sofa.
Yuuta tumbled to the floor, landing hard on his backside for the second time that morning. "Ouch! Why are you acting so weird?"
Erza did not answer. She hid her face behind her book, pretending to read, though her eyes were not following the words.
Yuuta sighed and rubbed his sore backside.
"At least let me sit on the sofa," he said.
"Do not you dare sit here," Erza said, her voice cold again, though her cheeks were still pink. "Go check on Elena."
Yuuta sighed again, deeper this time, and pushed himself to his feet.
This fucking lizard is so unpredictable, he thought as he walked toward the window where Elena was drawing. One moment she is threatening to kill me, the next she is blushing like a teenager. I will never understand her.
Behind him, Erza lowered her book just enough to watch him go. Her face was still red, her heart still pounding, her mind still reeling.
I was his first, she thought. His first. He said I was his first.
She had assumed, when he appeared in her chamber that night, that he was experienced. He had moved with confidence, with certainty, with a kind of ease that suggested he had done this before. She had assumed he was a womanizer, a playboy, the kind of man who took what he wanted and moved on. When he had claimed to be a virgin, she had thought he was lying.
But he had not been lying. She was his first. And that meant something. It meant that for her, Yuuta was her first man. And for him, she was his first woman.
Her heart raced. Her mind spun. She slapped her cheeks, hard, trying to snap herself out of it.
"Calm down, you idiot heart," she whispered to herself.
She took a deep breath, then another, forcing her pulse to slow, forcing her thoughts to settle. When she opened her eyes, she had made a decision.
"Now all I have to do is make sure he does not sleep with any other women," she said to herself. "He must think only of me."
She paused. Her eyes widened.
"Wait," she said. "What am I even thinking?"
She crossed her arms and looked away, her cheeks still pink.
"I mean," she said, "I am doing this for the honor of the queen. That is all."
She picked up her book and pretended to read.
But her eyes were not following the words. They were watching Yuuta, who was kneeling beside Elena, looking at her drawing, laughing at something she had said.
She watched him, and she smiled.
---
To be continued...