Hours passed.
The sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold that filtered through the apartment windows like liquid light. Long shadows stretched across the rooms, creeping along the walls like silent visitors, reaching toward the kitchen where the fruits of Yuuta's labor waited.
The broth had transformed.
What had once been simple water and bones, ordinary ingredients bought from Neighbor home, was now something close to magical—cloudy and rich, the color of heavy cream, smelling of pork and ocean and pure, concentrated umami. It bubbled gently on the stove, a constant quiet murmur, filling every corner of the apartment with a fragrance that could make angels weep with longing.
The dough had rested.
Been rolled.
Been cut.
Perfect, golden noodles lay in neat piles on a floured surface, waiting for their moment, for the boiling water that would transform them from simple flour and eggs into something transcendent.
The toppings waited too—chashu pork glistening with marinade, soft-boiled eggs cut precisely in half to reveal their jammy golden centers, menna sautéed to perfection, negi sliced thinly on a bias, nori toasted until crisp. Everything arranged like soldiers before battle, ready for their final deployment.
Yuuta stood back.
Surveyed his work.
"Perfect," he whispered, the word carrying the weight of exhausted triumph.
The kitchen looked like a professional ramen shop had exploded inside his tiny apartment. Every surface held something beautiful. Every pot contained something delicious. Every corner smelled like heaven itself had decided to take up residence.
Now came the hard part.
The waiting.
Yuuta moved to the living room and collapsed onto the sofa, his body finally surrendering to the exhaustion he'd been ignoring for hours. Every muscle ached. Every joint protested. His feet throbbed from standing, his arms burned from kneading, his back screamed from leaning over pots and cutting boards.
His eye throbbed too.
The bruise Loid had left was worse than he'd thought—purple and black and swollen, the flesh puffed up like he'd been stung by something venomous. It pulsed with every heartbeat, a constant reminder of the encounter he still didn't fully understand.
He grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and pressed it against the wound, wincing as the cold touched his skin.
"What the hell does Loid eat?" he muttered to the empty room. "Rocks? Bricks? His fist feels like I got hit by a boulder thrown from a mountain."
He shifted the ice pack, trying to find a position that didn't hurt.
"My eye is burning. Is that normal? Should eyes burn?"
The apartment, naturally, did not respond.
The clock ticked on the wall, each second a small sound in the quiet.
The broth simmered, filling the space with its impossible fragrance.
The sun continued its slow descent, the light shifting from gold to orange to the first hints of red.
And Yuuta—
Yuuta fell asleep.
The ice pack slipped from his hand.
Clattered to the floor.
He didn't stir.
His breathing deepened, slowed, became the rhythm of true rest.
And for the first time in days—perhaps the first time since Erza and Elena had crashed into his life like a beautiful disaster—his face held no tension, no worry, no fear.
Just rest.
Just peace.
Just the quiet surrender of a body that had finally been allowed to stop.
---
Outside, the world turned golden.
The sky blazed orange and pink and purple, casting warm light across the city. Windows caught the glow and turned into mirrors. Birds settled into their evening routines. The neighborhood grew quiet, peaceful, ordinary.
Erza and Elena rounded the corner.
Elena bounced with every step, her new dinosaur book clutched to her chest, stickers already plastered across her cheeks and arms. She'd opened the package the moment they left the bookstore and had been applying them ever since.
"Mama! Look! This one is a T-REX! It says ROAR!"
"I see."
"Mama! This one is a TRICERATOPS! It has three horns!"
"Fascinating."
"Mama! This one is—"
"Elena." Erza's voice was calm. "Save some excitement for when we get inside."
"But Mama—"
"Inside."
Elena pouted.
But she kept bouncing.
---
They climbed the stairs.
Seventy-eight books in one arm, stacked so high they formed a tower of knowledge that would have sent any ordinary person staggering. A bouncing child in the other, Elena's constant motion and chatter doing nothing to disturb her mother's perfect balance.
Erza moved effortlessly, as if the weight meant nothing—because it didn't. This was barely a fraction of her strength. A warm-up. A morning stretch. The kind of casual display of power that would have made any human onlooker question the very nature of reality.
But something else occupied her mind.
A feeling.
Strange.
Unfamiliar.
She'd felt it in the bookstore, when the cashier mentioned her marriage. When Yuuta's face appeared in her mind unbidden, unwanted, impossible to banish. When her lips curved without permission, without thought, without any of the control she had spent centuries cultivating.
What is this?
She didn't know.
Didn't understand.
Didn't want to examine it too closely.
But it was there.
Growing.
Warm.
Insistent.
"Oh! Miss Konuari!"
A voice interrupted her thoughts, sharp with surprise and recognition.
Miss Kano stood in the hallway, a bag of trash in her hand, her eyes wide as they took in the sight before her. The same Miss Kano who had appeared in Chapter One, who had witnessed the chaos of Erza's arrival, who had seen more than she should have and somehow survived to tell no tales.
"What a... what a ridiculous amount of books!"
Erza's eyes narrowed, her gaze sharp enough to cut glass.
"None of your business, human."
Miss Kano laughed—nervously, yes, but also with a warmth that seemed genuine. The kind of laugh someone gave when they'd decided not to be afraid, when they'd chosen friendliness over fear despite every instinct screaming otherwise.
"Oh, come on, Miss Konuari. You can talk nicely. I'm your neighbor, after all. We're practically family."
Behind Erza, Elena peeked out from around her mother's legs, her small face bright with recognition and the innocent joy of someone who had no idea about social conventions or dangerous situations.
"Mama! Mama! This is the human from when Papa was hiding!" She giggled at the memory, the sound bright and carefree and utterly unconcerned with the tension in the air. "Papa slammed the door! It was SO funny! His face was all red!"
Erza's hand moved.
Gently.
Firmly.
Pushed Elena back behind her, shielding her from view.
But in that moment, Miss Kano saw.
Saw Erza carrying seventy-eight books with one arm, the stack steady as a tower, not a single book wobbling.
Saw the complete lack of strain on her face, the absolute absence of effort, the casual way she held impossible weight.
Saw the impossible strength of the woman before her, hidden beneath an exterior of ethereal beauty.
"You're really strong, Miss Konuari." The words came out almost wondering, almost reverent. "I've never seen anyone carry that much. Not even the movers who helped my son move into his new apartment, and they had those big straps and everything."
Erza's lip curled into something that was almost a sneer.
"It's pathetic that humans consider this strength." She shifted the books slightly, adjusting their weight distribution without conscious thought. "Your definition of power is laughable. Your strongest warriors would be children in my world. Mere infants playing at combat."
Miss Kano blinked.
Then smiled nervously, taking a small step back.
This woman is crazy, her expression seemed to say. Beautiful, but absolutely crazy.
"Well... I guess I'll leave you to it, then. Have a good evening, Miss Konuari."
She carried her trash toward the chute, her footsteps quickening slightly.
Erza began to move toward her door.
Then stopped.
"Wait a second," she said coldly.
Miss Kano felt a sudden chill run down her spine. Her feet, already moving toward escape, froze in place as if the floor itself had turned to ice. She knew—knew—that Erza was going to do something. Something terrible. Something that would end her.
She tried to walk faster.
Couldn't.
Her legs wouldn't obey.
"What did you just call me?" Erza's voice was ice wrapped around steel.
Miss Kano turned slowly, her face pale.
"I—I don't understand. What are you talking about?"
"Don't act like a stupid human." Erza's eyes narrowed. "You called me something. A name. What was it?"
Miss Kano's brow furrowed in confusion.
"You mean... Miss Konuari?"
Erza's eyes flashed.
"Yes. That. Why did you refer to me like that?"
Miss Kano blinked, genuinely confused now.
"Well... it's obviously your husband's name. So I would call you by his name. That's how it works here." She paused, tilting her head. "Is that not how it works where you're from?"
Erza froze.
His name is Konuari?
The thought hit her like a physical blow.
His name is Yuuta Konuari.
She didn't believe it. Couldn't believe it. What kind of weird name was that for a human? For any creature?
For the reader's benefit, Erza had never asked Yuuta's name. Had never bothered to learn it. He was her prey, her judgment, her project—not someone whose name mattered.
But now—
Now it mattered.
Miss Kano laughed, completely misunderstanding Erza's frozen expression.
"Oh, Miss Konuari, you're so funny! Of course his name isn't just Konuari." She paused, and Erza's heart—her traitorous, uncontrollable heart—beat faster. "His full name is Yuuta Konuari."
Yuuta.
The name echoed in Erza's mind.
Yuuta Konuari.
Her own voice betrayed her as she spoke it aloud for the first time.
"Yuuta..."
The word left her lips like a prayer, like a secret, like something precious she hadn't known she was holding.
And something in her chest—something she'd thought frozen forever—warmed.
Yuuta Konuari.
Is that his name?
She said it again, this time as a question.
"Yuuta Konuari... is that his name?"
Miss Kano nodded, still confused.
"Yes, Miss Konuari. He is your husband. How can you not know your own husband's name?"
Erza looked at her.
At the woman who was actually, genuinely, completely right.
Even Yuuta hadn't known her name until she told him. They had spent days together—eating together, sleeping in the same apartment, raising a child together—and neither of them had known the other's name.
What kind of strange creatures had they become?
Miss Kano tilted her head.
"Miss Konuari? Are you okay? You look... different."
Erza's heart beat faster.
Every time she heard that word—Konuari—something in her chest shifted. Something warm. Something terrifying. Something she didn't understand and couldn't control.
"Stop calling me that," Erza said, her voice cold.
But there was no real threat in it.
Miss Kano saw her opportunity.
She clutched her trash bag tighter.
"Well, it was nice meeting you, Miss Konuari! I really have to go now! Trash doesn't take itself out!"
She ran.
Actually ran.
Erza watched her go.
Then she continued toward her door.
But as she walked, something Miss Kano had said echoed in her mind.
Miss Konuari.
Konuari.
Yuuta's name.
Her name now.
Their name.
The name of the family she had somehow, impossibly, become part of.
She didn't react.
Didn't show anything.
Her face remained cold, controlled, the mask firmly in place.
But inside—
Inside, something was changing.
Something she couldn't stop.
Something she wasn't sure she wanted to stop.
---
Erza pushed the door open.
"WELCOME BACK HOME!"
Elena's voice exploded through the apartment like a tiny firecracker. She threw her arms wide, her dinosaur stickers catching the light, her face split in the biggest grin imaginable.
"Mama! I said it! Just like Papa says it!"
Erza glanced down at her daughter.
"You don't need to mimic that pathetic father of yours."
"But Mama, it's FUNNY!"
"There is nothing funny about—"
Erza stopped.
Her nose twitched.
Her eyes widened.
What is that smell?
It hit her like a wave—warm, rich, complex, delicious. A fragrance that seemed to wrap around her senses and pull her forward. Her mouth watered before she could stop it. Her stomach—her ancient, dragon stomach that had tasted delicacies from across entire worlds—growled.
She walked toward the hall.
Toward the source.
And then she saw it.
The table.
Covered.
Absolutely covered with food.
Bowls of ramen sat in perfect arrangement, steam rising from each one like offerings to the gods. The broth was the color of cream, rich and inviting. Noodles lay in perfect coils. Toppings were arranged with artistic precision—pink-swirled chashu, golden eggs cut in half, green onions scattered like emeralds, nori standing at attention.
It was beautiful.
It was perfect.
It was for her.
Erza's heart did that thing again.
That strange, aching, warm thing.
"Damn," she whispered. "This feeling again."
She moved toward the sofa, her arms still full of books, needing a moment to compose herself. She would set them down. She would gather her thoughts. She would—
She stopped.
Yuuta was asleep on the sofa.
Curled in an awkward position, his face slack with exhaustion, one arm dangling toward the floor. He looked young like this. Vulnerable. Human.
And his eye—
His eye was swollen.
Purple and black and wrong.
Erza's heart lurched.
Rage flooded through her—hot, immediate, violent. Who had done this? Who had dared to touch what was hers? She would find them. She would end them. She would—
Her hand slipped.
The books fell.
CRASH.
Seventy-eight volumes hit the floor in an avalanche of paper and binding, the sound echoing through the apartment like a thunderclap.
Yuuta shot up from the sofa like a rocket.
"NO! WAIT! ERZA, DON'T DESTROY THIS WORLD! I'M STILL YOUNG!"
His arms flailed.
His voice cracked.
His body moved in approximately seventeen directions at once, none of them useful.
Elena burst into giggles, her tiny hands clutching her dinosaur book, her face bright with pure, innocent joy.
"PAPA IS SO FUNNY!"
Yuuta blinked.
Looked around.
The hall was still there. The TV was still there. The table—the beautiful, magnificent table—was still covered in the ramen masterpiece he'd created.
"Phew." He slumped back against the sofa, his heart hammering. "It was just a dream."
Then he looked up.
Erza stood before him.
Towering.
Furious.
Yuuta's blood ran cold.
The dream had been about her destroying the world.
The reality, he realized, might be worse.
"Well..." He swallowed hard. "Erza. Welcome back."
His brain screamed at him.
So much for the blackmail plan! So much for making her beg! She's going to kill me! She's going to freeze me! She's going to—
Erza raised her hand.
Yuuta braced for death.
She read my mind. She saw my evil plan. This is it. This is the end.
Her hand touched his face.
"What happened to your eye?"
Her voice was cold.
But her touch was gentle.
Yuuta's brain short-circuited.
"I... I fell down the stairs."
He looked away.
Couldn't meet her eyes.
Couldn't let her see the guilt written across his face.
Erza's expression shifted—frustration, concern, and something else. Something she couldn't name and didn't want to examine.
"You... you IDIOT!" Her voice rose. "Can't you walk properly?! Look at you! You're already the weakest, most pathetic mortal I've ever met, and now you can't even navigate stairs without injuring yourself?!"
Yuuta blinked.
Is she... worried?
"I'm sorry," he said. "I wasn't paying attention."
He smiled.
That stupid, warm, infuriating smile that he couldn't seem to control.
Erza's eye twitched.
She grabbed his cheek.
Pulled it.
Hard.
"What is wrong with your smile?! Don't you fear death?! Don't you understand how furious I am?!"
"I—ow—I'm sorry—it hurts—"
"GOOD!"
She released him.
Sighed.
Long.
Deep.
Frustrated.
"Idiot." She searched for words, any words, to fill the silence. "Baka. Stupid. Fool. Moron."
Anything she could call him.
Anything to hide what she was really feeling.
Yuuta didn't respond.
He just looked at her.
At the way her eyes kept returning to his wound.
At the way her hands—her deadly, powerful, world-ending hands—were trembling slightly.
At the way her voice, for all its coldness, held something beneath the ice.
Does she... care?
Is it possible that she...
Erza's fingers touched his eye again.
Gently.
So gently.
Warmth bloomed from her touch—not anger, not power, but healing. Her magic flowed into him, soft and warm and kind, seeping through his skin and into the damaged tissue beneath.
The swelling receded.
The pain vanished.
The bruise faded like it had never existed.
Yuuta's eye was whole again.
He stared at her.
She stared back.
And in that moment, neither of them knew what to say.
---
The silence stretched.
Longer than was comfortable.
Longer than was safe.
Longer than either of them expected.
Then—
"PAPA! MAMA! THE FOOD!"
Elena's voice shattered the moment like a hammer through glass.
She was already climbing onto her chair, her eyes fixed on the ramen bowls with the kind of desperate hunger only children possessed.
"IT SMELLS SO GOOD! CAN WE EAT NOW?! PLEASE?!"
Yuuta blinked.
Looked at the table.
At the food he'd spent hours creating.
At the family waiting to enjoy it.
"IT SMELLS SO GOOD! CAN WE EAT NOW?! PLEASE?!"
Elena's voice bounced off the walls like a tiny, adorable earthquake.
Yuuta blinked, pulled from his daze, and looked at the table.
At the food he'd spent hours creating.
At the family waiting to enjoy it.
"Yes," he said softly, reaching out to ruffle Elena's silver hair. "Let's eat."
Elena scrambled onto her chair, her dinosaur book forgotten, her eyes fixed on the steaming bowls with the kind of desperate focus that only children and starving soldiers possessed.
"What did you make, Papa?! It smells SO good!"
Yuuta smiled.
"It's called ramen."
Both of them looked at him.
"Ramen?" Erza repeated, her brow furrowing. "What kind of ridiculous name is that?"
"Well," Yuuta said, settling into his own seat, "it's a dish from Japanese cuisine. Ramen. It's made with rich broth, strong flavors, lots of protein, and a hundred different tastes all working together."
Erza stared at the bowl before her.
Steam rose in delicate spirals. The broth was opaque and creamy, the color of well-brewed tea. Noodles lay in perfect coils beneath a landscape of pork, egg, vegetables, and seaweed.
It looked...
Good.
Too good.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Did you make this just because?" Suspicion dripped from every word. "No one spends this much time on food without a reason."
Yuuta's smile flickered.
She's right, of course. There was a reason. A whole dramatic, blackmail-y, "make her beg" reason that completely failed the moment she walked through the door.
But he couldn't say that.
Couldn't admit that he'd planned to hold this food hostage.
So he improvised.
"Well..." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "You let me call you by your name. Just Erza. No queen, no highness, no formalities."
He glanced at her.
Quickly.
Then away.
"I thought... maybe I should thank you. Properly. With food."
Erza stared at him.
Her expression didn't change.
But something behind her eyes—something deep and carefully guarded—shifted.
He made all this... for me?
Because I let him say my name?
My name, which everyone in my world says every day without thought?
He made a feast... for that?
"Idiot." Her voice was sharp. "Wasting money on food."
Yuuta looked at her.
A specific look.
The kind of look that said really?
"I just feel," he said carefully, "like someone stole my money and is now lecturing me about wasting it."
Erza's hand moved faster than thought.
Her fingers found his ear.
Twisted.
"Ow ow ow—!"
"Listen here, you pathetic mortal." Her voice was ice, but her grip wasn't cruel. Just... firm. "I am already frustrated enough living in this world. It's YOUR fault I'm stuck on this miserable planet. And unlike SOME people, I didn't waste money on useless things."
She released his ear.
Crossed her arms.
"I bought books. For knowledge. For understanding this ridiculous world YOU dragged me into."
Yuuta rubbed his ear, wincing.
"Okay, okay, I get it. I'm sorry." He looked at her—really looked at her. "You don't have to justify it. My money is your money now. I trust you."
The words hung in the air.
Simple.
Ordinary.
True.
Ba-DUMP.
Erza's heart stopped.
Then started again.
Twice as fast.
Three times as loud.
Ba-DUMP. Ba-DUMP. Ba-DUMP.
Her face went red.
Crimson.
Burning.
She stood abruptly.
"I—the bathroom—"
She fled.
Left Yuuta and Elena at the table.
Left the ramen steaming.
Left the words echoing in her mind.
My money is your money.
I trust you.
In the bathroom, she pressed both hands to her chest.
Stared at her reflection.
At the red face.
At the racing heart.
At the woman she didn't recognize anymore.
"What," she whispered, "is happening to me?"
---
At the table, Elena looked at Yuuta.
"Papa?"
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
"Why is Mama's face red?"
Yuuta smiled.
Small.
Warm.
Hopeful.
"I don't know, Elena. But I think... I think it's a good thing."
"Oh." Elena accepted this easily and turned back to her ramen. "Papa, this is REALLY good!"
"Eat up, little princess."
He looked toward the bathroom.
Toward the queen hiding from her own heart.
And somewhere deep in his chest—
Hope bloomed.
---
To be continued...
[Important Announcement!]
Yuuta: (waving at the screen awkwardly)
"Hey, hey, my dearest and only loyal reader! I have some super important news to share with you today!"
(clears throat dramatically)
Yuuta:
"I've officially signed a contract with Webnovel! Woohoo! Sooo... I'll be needing your continued support more than ever! Let's walk this crazy journey together, alright?"
Elena: (tugging his sleeve, tilting her head cutely)
"Papa, papa! Why did you join this 'contract' thingy?"
Yuuta: (chuckling, ruffling her hair)
"Because, sweetheart... Papa also needs money! Gotta feed you and buy ice cream, right?"
Erza: (crossing her arms, smirking coldly)
"Tch. Greedy mortal."
Yuuta: (fake crying dramatically)
"Hey! I'm not greedy! I'm... uh... financially responsible!"
(straightens up proudly)
"And don't worry! I'm not going to lock any chapters until we complete the first major arc! You'll get plenty of story before any locks!"
Elena: (bright smile)
"Yay! Papa's the best!"
Erza: (giving a tiny, rare smile)
"Hmph. Then it's acceptable."
Yuuta: (grinning wide)
"Alright then! That's all for today's important talk!"
(waves at the screen with Elena and Erza standing beside him)
Yuuta, Elena & Erza (together):
"Bye-bye! See you in the next chapter!"