Yuuta walked toward Elena, stepping carefully over the scattered crayons and sheets of paper that covered the floor around her. She had been drawing for hours, lost in her own little world, her tongue poking out in concentration as she worked on what looked like her latest masterpiece. Dozens of drawings surrounded her—some stacked neatly, others crumpled or torn, and many more spread across the floor like a colorful carpet of imagination.
He picked up the first one. It was the drawing he had seen before—the family portrait, the one Erza had hidden behind the television. Three figures standing in front of a crystal castle, white and blue like ice, like something out of a fairy tale. He smiled at the way Elena had drawn his eyes too big and Erza's horns too long. It was childish and imperfect and absolutely perfect.
He set it down gently and picked up the next one. This one was different. Smaller. Humble. It showed their apartment—a small box with windows, barely bigger than the figures inside. He was standing at the stove, a pan in his hand, steam rising from whatever he was cooking. Erza was on the sofa, a book in her lap, her eyes fixed on the pages. And Elena was on the floor, surrounded by crayons, drawing the very picture he was holding. It was their life. Simple. Ordinary. Home.
He picked up the third drawing, and his smile faded.
It was the castle again, but this time Elena had drawn a tiny figure beside it—so small that he almost missed it. He looked closer and realized the figure was him, standing at the foot of the castle like an ant at the base of a mountain. The scale was absurd, impossible, the kind of thing a child might draw without understanding what it meant.
He had never thought about Erza's castle before. He had been too busy trying to survive, too focused on keeping Elena safe, too afraid of the woman who had promised to kill him. But now, things were different. She was not going to kill him—he was almost certain of that. And she had feelings for him, even if she would never admit it.
His fear had faded, replaced by something else. Curiosity.
"My little princess," he said, his voice soft. "Can you tell me about this picture?"
Elena looked up from her masterpiece. She stared at the drawing in his hand with the solemn expression of an artist about to reveal the truth of the world. Then she chuckled, a small, knowing sound that seemed too old for her age.
"This is Mama's castle," she said.
"Hmm. Mama's castle," Yuuta repeated.
Elena waved her hands in the air, trying to show the size of something too big for words. "Mama's castle is so big, Papa. It is so huge. It stretches to the sky, like a mountain. No, even bigger than a mountain!"
Yuuta smiled, ruffling her silver hair. He thought she was exaggerating, as children often did. There was no way a castle could be that large. Even a slight earthquake or a small mistake in construction would bring the whole thing crumbling down.
"Oh, that is a big castle, Miss Novelist," he said.
Elena's brow furrowed. "Nov... nove... novelist?" She stumbled over the word, her small mouth struggling to shape it. "What is that, Papa?"
Yuuta chuckled. "Hmm, let us say it is someone who is very good at imagining things. Someone who can make a story sound bigger and more wonderful than it really is."
Elena's red eyes lit up. "Did Papa just praise Elena?"
"It looks like I did."
"Yay!" Elena clapped her hands, scattering crayons across the floor.
Before Yuuta could say another word, something hard hit the back of his head.
Thack.
He yelped and rubbed the sore spot, spinning around to face the sofa. "Ouch! What is wrong with you?"
But Erza was not on the sofa. She was standing right behind him, her arms crossed, her eyes cold, her book tucked under her arm. She had moved without a sound, as she always did, and now she was towering over him like an avenging angel.
Yuuta scrambled backward, nearly falling over Elena's drawings. "My... my queen?"
Erza's voice was cold, sharp, dangerous.
"So you call my daughter a liar?"
Yuuta's eyes went wide. "No, I did not call her a liar. I just said her exaggeration was—"
Elena puffed her cheeks, crossing her small arms over her chest. Her wings fluttered with indignation. "Papa called Elena a liar. Elena hates it."
Yuuta reached out to pat her head, trying to soothe her. "There, there. I did not call you a liar. I believe your story. I just think it is a little impossible, that is all."
Elena was not convinced. But Erza was not convinced either. She picked up the drawing of the castle—the one where the figures were tiny against the massive walls—and held it up to Yuuta's face.
"Do you even know how big my castle is?"
Erza's voice was cold and steady, like she was stating a fact rather than boasting. Her violet eyes did not waver from his face, and there was no pride in her tone—only the simple, absolute certainty of someone who had lived within those walls for centuries.
Yuuta frowned, still trying to process the drawing in his hand. "A castle is still just a—"
"It stretches for over fifty kilometers from one end to the other," Erza cut in, her words landing like stones dropped into still water.
He went silent. His mouth opened, then closed. His mind tried to form a response, but nothing came.
Fifty kilometers. That was not a castle. That was a city. That was a small country.
"That is… bigger than a city," he finally muttered, his voice weak.
"It is a city," Erza replied calmly, as if explaining something obvious to a child. "Within its walls are districts, military strongholds, noble quarters, and skies wide enough for dragons to fly freely."
Yuuta's breath hitched. He tried to picture it—streets that never ended, walls that touched the horizon, towers that pierced the clouds. A place where thousands, no, hundreds of thousands of people could live without ever stepping outside. A place where dragons could spread their wings and soar without fear of hitting anything.
"And that," Erza added, her voice dropping slightly, "is only the castle."
Yuuta's eyes widened.
Only the castle.
The weight of her words pressed down on him, heavier than anything he had ever felt. He had thought he understood, in some vague way, that Erza was powerful. He had seen her freeze a port, shatter buildings, summon an army from her shadow. But those were acts of power—moments of destruction that faded as quickly as they came. This was different. This was not a display of strength. This was a fact about her life, her world, her home.
A castle that stretched for fifty kilometers. A fortress so vast that it contained cities within its walls.
"That is impossible," Yuuta said, shaking his head. "No building could be that large. The structural integrity alone—"
Erza did not let him finish. "Impossible?" she repeated, her eyebrow arching. "I have not even told you how big my kingdom is."
She watched his face, and for the first time, something like pride flickered in her eyes. Not the cold pride of a queen demanding recognition, but something warmer—a quiet satisfaction in watching him struggle to comprehend the scale of what she ruled.
Yuuta swallowed. "How big... is your kingdom?"
Erza did not answer immediately. She let the silence stretch between them, let his question hang in the air like a blade waiting to fall. She could see the curiosity in his red eyes, the fear, the dawning realization that he was standing in the presence of something far greater than he had ever imagined.
She smiled. It was a small smile, but it was real.
"It spans over forty million square kilometers," she said.
Yuuta's face went pale. His voice, when it came, was trembling, barely a whisper.
"Fo... forty million?"
He looked at the drawing in his hand, at the tiny figure standing at the foot of the crystal castle, and his mind reeled. Forty million square kilometers was larger than the entire continent of Africa. Larger than all of Earth's landmasses combined. It was not a kingdom. It was a world.
"That is way bigger than Africa," he said, his voice hollow.
Erza did not stop there. She was enjoying this—enjoying the way his eyes widened, the way his breath caught, the way his mind struggled to keep up with the truth of what she was.
"Do you even know," she said, leaning forward slightly, "that if you decided to travel from one end of my kingdom to the other without rest, it would take you months to reach?"
"Months?" Yuuta's voice cracked. "Months?"
Erza nodded, her smile widening. "Months. And that is without stopping to sleep or eat. Just traveling. Day and night. Across forests that never end, mountain ranges that touch the clouds, and plains so vast that you would forget there was ever anything else."
She paused, letting the image settle in his mind.
"My kingdom has multiple great cities," she continued, her voice filled with quiet pride. "Hundreds of smaller ones. Countless towns and villages spread across vast lands. Each one connected by roads that take weeks to travel. Each one ruled by lords who answer only to me."
Yuuta's mind struggled to keep up. He had grown up in an orphanage, had lived his whole life in small rooms and cramped apartments. The idea of a kingdom so large that it could hold continents was beyond his comprehension. It was not a kingdom. It was a small world. A world where a single woman sat on a throne and ruled over millions of lives.
"Forests that never end," Erza said, each word heavier than the last. "Mountain ranges that touch the clouds. Borders guarded by walls that stretch farther than your eyes can see."
She paused, and her voice dropped to a whisper.
"And an army... large enough to erase an entire planet."
Yuuta swallowed. His throat was dry. His hands were cold.
This was not a kingdom. This was a world of its own. And the woman standing before him—the woman who had threatened to kill him, who had called him pathetic and weak and worthless—ruled all of it.
And yet she lived here. In his small apartment. In his small world. With him.
"Why?" Yuuta asked, his voice confused, almost lost. "Why would you leave all of that to come here?"
Erza looked at him with a serious expression, her violet eyes piercing through him like they were searching for something hidden beneath his skin. "Do you really want to know why I am here?" she asked, her voice low and steady.
Yuuta remembered. He remembered the night he appeared in her chamber, the foolish act that had led her to this world, the sin he had committed without even knowing it. He shook his head quickly.
"No," he said. "My bad. I am good."
He paused, his mind already racing to the next question. "But how big is your world? If your kingdom is the size of continents, what about the other continents? The oceans? The unknown lands?"
He knew Erza's kingdom was not the only land in her world. There had to be others—other kingdoms, other rulers, other worlds within the world.
Erza considered his question, her brow furrowing slightly. She wanted to put it in terms he could understand.
"What is the size of this planet?" she asked.
Yuuta blinked. "Earth? I think it is about eight thousand miles in diameter. Something like that."
Erza went silent for a moment. Her expression did not change, but something in her eyes shifted—a flicker of disdain, quickly suppressed.
"Pathetic," she said.
Yuuta flinched. "What?"
"A world this small can barely sustain mana," she continued, her voice cold and mocking. "No wonder your kind is so weak."
Yuuta frowned, his pride stung despite himself. "Then how big is your world?"
Erza looked at him, and for a moment, she seemed almost amused.
"My world is nearly eighty-seven thousand miles in diameter."
Yuuta's eyes widened. His mouth fell open. Eighty-seven thousand miles was not just bigger. It was unimaginable. It was roughly the size of Jupiter, the largest planet in the solar system. He did the math in his head, his mind struggling to keep up. If Earth was eight thousand miles across, and Erza's world was eighty-seven thousand, then her world could fit over a thousand Earths inside it.
A thousand Earths.
He thought about the castle that stretched for fifty kilometers. The kingdom that spanned forty million square kilometers. The world that could swallow his own a thousand times over.
No wonder her kingdom was so vast. No wonder her power was so absolute. She was not just a queen. She was the ruler of a world that made his own look like a pebble.
Erza watched the realization dawn on his face, and a small smile curved her lips.
"Now you understand," she said. "So do not ever call my daughter a liar before knowing the truth."
She turned and walked toward the sofa, her book in her hand, her posture regal.
"Wait," Yuuta called out, his voice urgent.
Erza stopped and looked back at him, one eyebrow raised.
"I want to know more," Yuuta said, his eyes bright with curiosity. "About your world. About your kingdom. About the creatures, the struggles, the gravity—everything."
Erza studied him for a moment. He looked like a child who had just discovered a new dinosaur in a movie and was now frantically searching for more information online. His red eyes were wide, his posture eager, his whole body leaning toward her as if he could absorb her knowledge through sheer will.
It was adorable. He was adorable.
For a moment, Erza felt an overwhelming urge to hug him, to ruffle his hair, to pull him close and never let go. But she caught herself. She coughed and looked away, her cheeks flushing slightly.
"If you want to know about my kingdom and my world," she said, her voice cool again, "then you will have to treat me. Information like this requires heavy payment."
Yuuta frowned. "What should I do for you to get the information?"
Erza's eyes gleamed. This was what she had been waiting for. A chance to make him squirm, to put him in his place, to remind him who was in charge.
"You have to become my slave for a week," she said.
Yuuta's eyes widened. "Slave?"
Erza nodded, her smile widening. "Slave. You will do whatever I want, whenever I want, without complaint. You cannot say no. You cannot argue. You will obey."
Yuuta swallowed hard. His pride screamed at him to refuse, to walk away, to protect his dignity at all costs. But his curiosity was stronger. It was like a dragon's hunger—once awakened, it could not be ignored. He had to know. He had to understand the world that Erza came from, the world that Elena would one day inherit.
"Okay," he said. "I agree. I will be your slave for a week."
Erza's smile turned evil. "Very well. Now that you have accepted the deal, you cannot deny it. You are mine for seven days."
Yuuta swallowed again, suddenly afraid of what he had agreed to.
Behind them, Elena looked up from her drawing, her red eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Papa is in trouble," she said, chuckling to herself.
She put the finishing touches on her latest masterpiece—a drawing of Erza beating Yuuta while Elena watched from the corner, laughing. She held it up, admired her work, and laughed again.
Erza glanced at the drawing and smiled.
Yuuta sighed.
He had a feeling this was going to be a very long week.
To be continued...