(Erza's POV – Flashback)
I remember that day in the Academy clearly.
The lesson that changed nothing… and should have changed everything.
The classroom was dimly lit, walls lined with ancient scrolls and glowing runes. We sat around a stone table, the air thick with incense and the scent of burning parchment.
Our teacher, Master Izel—a wise old dragon in human form—stood at the front, holding a chalkboard carved from obsidian.
"To understand your enemy," he began, "you must first understand their life. Their thoughts. Their mortality."
He turned, and tapped the board where the word HUMANS was etched in glowing letters.
"Humans may be short-lived, yes, but they are clever, unpredictable, and capable of changing the course of history. Never underestimate a being who knows they're running out of time."
I frowned.
"What's the point of learning about human life?" I muttered, loud enough for the class to hear.
The room fell quiet.
"We're not here to fall in love with humans," I added coldly, arms crossed. "Just teach us how to wipe them out."
Some students chuckled nervously. Others looked away.
But Master Izel didn't smile.
His expression darkened, heavy with disappointment.
"You speak of destruction so easily, Erza," he said quietly. "But not all battles are won through blades and ice."
"Spare me," I scoffed, rising from my seat. "We are dragons—born to conquer, not to coddle weak creatures."
His eyes met mine, tired but unwavering.
"Well… perhaps," he said slowly, "but you should never underestimate fate, Erza. It's cleverer than any general. And sometimes… fate likes to laugh."
I narrowed my eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He didn't answer.
I grabbed my things, fed up. "Forget it. I'll skip this class today—rather that than sit here learning about fragile humans."
And without waiting for permission, I walked out, leaving only the echo of my boots and the silence I refused to listen to.
(Back to Present)
I never thought I'd hear Master Izel's voice echo in my mind after all these years.
His words…
"Never underestimate fate, Erza."
They used to annoy me.
Now, they haunt me.
I sat in silence, gripping the edge of the table, eyes fixed on the man still sleeping peacefully on the couch. Yuuta. The human I once saw as weak… now the center of my world.
There has to be a way.
Some ancient spell. A lost relic. Something to keep him by my side… forever.
"Yes," I muttered aloud, the thought turning to desperate hope. "There must be a way to extend his life… something…"
From across the room, I heard the clink of ceramic.
My grandfather, calm as ever, sipped his coffee while staring out through the shattered window. Cold wind danced around him, but he didn't flinch.
"You're thinking about increasing his lifespan," he said, without turning.
I froze.
"…Yes," I admitted. "And what of it? Are you going to stop me?"
He let out a breath—more like a sigh of someone who had seen too many wars, too many broken dreams.
"No, I won't stop you," he said quietly. "Not as your royal advisor. And not as your grandfather."
That surprised me. I turned to face him fully, cautious hope blooming.
"But," he added, and with that one word, hope shrank a little. "I have to tell you the truth. No spell, no potion, no artifact in human history has ever successfully extended a human life beyond its natural end. Not without consequence. Every human king who's tried has died mad, cursed, or worse."
I opened my mouth to argue, but he raised a hand.
"I'm not saying this to hurt you. I'm saying it because I don't want you to destroy yourself trying to bend the unbendable."
"Then what?" I said, my voice rising. "What if I bring him to Atlantis? Hide him in the castle? Maybe if I—"
"Erza," he said sternly. "Think."
He turned now, facing me fully. His eyes—once sharp and judgmental—now looked weary.
"If you bring him to Atlantis, you'll have to lie. To nobles, to elders, to everyone. And lies crack under pressure."
I swallowed hard.
"If they learn he's human, they'll call for his execution. If they believe he's a dragon, they'll expect him to fight. Your enemies will use him to get to you. Your ex-fiancé—furious, humiliated—will challenge him. You know Yuuta won't survive that."
I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms.
"But I'll protect him," I whispered.
"You can't," he said softly. "Not every second. Not when you're a queen again. Not when you're fighting wars or guiding nations."
I looked down.
"Let's say—just say—you do find a way to extend his life," he continued. "Let's pretend you succeed. What happens if you die in battle?"
I froze.
His voice lowered, sad now.
"Without you, the one tying him to our world is gone. He'll be hunted—by dragons, by your enemies, by his own grief. And your children… half-blooded… would grow up hated, unprotected."
A lump formed in my throat.
"Erza," he said gently, "you've always been strong. But love makes fools of even queens. And you are risking everything—for a man who cannot follow you into eternity."
Tears welled in my eyes. My voice was barely a whisper.
My grandfather took another sip of his coffee, then finally placed the cup down with a soft clink. His voice, when he spoke, was neither harsh nor cold—just painfully honest.
"Erza… if you choose to stay here in the human world," he began slowly, "you will be happy. For a little while. You'll laugh with him. Grow with him. Raise your children with him. You'll have that warmth."
He looked at me, eyes steady.
"But what happens after?"
My breath caught in my throat.
"He's human, Erza. He will die. You know this. Sixty years—if the world is kind. But what happens after he's gone?"
The air felt heavy around me. I stayed silent.
"You can't return to Atlantis," he continued. "Once you walk away from the throne… once you abandon your duty… you are no longer queen. Not royalty. Not even a citizen. The moment you choose him over your kingdom, you lose the right to return."
I swallowed hard. My heart thudded painfully in my chest.
"You'll stay in the human world… but not forever. You won't age. Not like them. One year, five years, ten… and soon, they'll start to notice. That you don't wrinkle. That you don't weaken. That you don't die."
He leaned forward, voice dropping.
"And humans… they fear what they don't understand. They'll grow suspicious. They'll turn on you."
I closed my eyes, fighting back the sting behind them.
"When that happens," he said gently, "you'll have no choice but to return to Nova. To the world you left behind. But not as a queen. Not even as a noble. Just a runaway."
"And you know what that means."
His voice darkened.
"You'll live in the wilderness. Hunted by those who see you as a traitor. Hounded by the enemies you've made over centuries. You'll run… forever. No peace. No kingdom. No home."
He stood slowly, walked toward the broken window, and looked out at the fading stars.
"And what of your children, Erza? Do you plan to raise them in hiding too? Teach them to fear both worlds? To run from both bloodlines?"
I bit my lip, trembling.
He turned to me again.
"This isn't about whether you love him. I know you do."
A pause. A deep, aching silence between us.
"…But sometimes love demands more than we can give. And the price of clinging to it can be destruction."
He stepped closer and placed a hand gently on my shoulder—the same hand that once trained me to wield a sword.
"My advice, as your advisor… and as your grandfather…"
His voice broke slightly.
"…is to let him go. Leave him. Take Elena and come back to Atlantis. Return to your people. To the crown. To your place in the world."
He paused, eyes shining—not with power, but with sorrow.
"Let him live in peace… and you live with purpose."
The room had fallen quiet.
Only the soft rhythm of Yuuta's breathing and Elena's faint, childlike murmurs filled the silence. Outside, the wind passed through the broken window like a whisper, carrying the scent of distant rain and the chill of reality.
I stood still… numb.
My grandfather's words echoed in my mind like thunder. Cold. Unforgiving. Honest.
But not cruel.
Every path I turned over in my head ended in ruin. If I stayed—I'd lose everything. If I left—I'd lose him.
The throne. My people. My children's future. My identity. His life. My heart.
Everything was tangled together… impossible to untangle without cutting something loose.
And so I said, barely above a whisper, "I agree."
My grandfather turned, his silver hair catching the early light. "You agree?" he repeated, cautious.
"I will return," I said, this time firmer. "To Atlantis. To my kingdom. To my duty."
A long pause.
He stared at me in stillness.
"…After," I added, "I complete my three wishes."
"Three wishes?" he said, puzzled.
"Yes." I looked down at Yuuta, his hand loosely cradling Elena's. His face was so peaceful it hurt.
"These will be my final gifts to him. Before I leave him forever."
My grandfather scoffed, half-sighing. "What are these wishes, then?"
I met his eyes, my own heavy with quiet defiance. "I'm not telling you."
His mouth twitched with faint disapproval. "Erza… this is all rubbish."
"You may think it is," I said, my voice soft but unshaken, "but for me… it's everything. It's all I can give him."
I turned away, staring out the window, voice barely holding.
"I've spent three months with him. Three months… and in all that time, he never looked at me like I was different. Never asked who I really was. Never cared about my bloodline, or the power I carry."
I smiled—broken and real. "He looked at me like I was enough. Like I could just be… me."
Silence.
My grandfather moved toward the door. But before he left, he said something I didn't expect.
"If he were a dragon," he murmured, "this would've been easier. Better. I've never seen you like this, Erza. So alive and happy ."
I turned toward him slowly.
"After your mother died," he said, "you changed. From the little flower who laughed under moonlight… to the frozen blade of Atlantis. You were feared. Respected. Untouchable."
His voice softened.
"But now, when I look at you… I see that little flower again like I missed in my life."
I bit my lip hard, trying not to cry.
"You must love him greatly," he said.
"I do," I whispered.
He nodded slowly, his face unreadable.
"Very well," he said. "I will not tell the kingdom. Not the nobles. Not the elders. About your location use this Scroll when you are wish fuilfed."
I blinked in surprise.
He turned toward the portal he summoned, its edges glowing with ancient runes.
"I don't agree with your wishes," he said, "but I respect the heart behind them. You've earned that."
He glanced at Yuuta and Elena—still resting together like a painting of peace that could never last.
And then, with a rare softness in his old, war-worn voice, he whispered:
"God is so cruel… to let you suffer, Erza."
The portal shimmered as he stepped through.
And then… he was gone.
I sat down beside Yuuta, slowly, carefully… as if I might wake him and make it all real too soon.
Three wishes.
That's all I had left before I said goodbye.
And I didn't even know how I'd survive it.
To be continued...