Yuuta stared at the empty seat.
One moment, it had been occupied—filled with the small, bouncing presence of his daughter, chattering about colors and bags and all the wonderful things she was going to buy. The next moment, it was empty. Just a chair. Just a space. Just nothing where someone should have been.
His heart stopped.
Then started again.
Too fast.
Too loud.
Elena.
He looked left.
Then right.
Then left again.
The shopping center continued around him, oblivious—people walking, stores buzzing, escalators humming. Normal life. Ordinary life. Life that didn't know that a four-year-old girl had just vanished into thin air.
He stood up so fast the chair scraped against the floor.
"Elena?"
His voice came out quiet at first.
Uncertain.
Like if he didn't say it too loud, it wouldn't be true.
"Elena!"
Louder now.
Desperate.
People turned to look at him—annoyed faces, curious faces, the kind of faces people made when someone disrupted their shopping experience. He didn't care. Didn't see them. Didn't exist in their world anymore.
"ELENA!"
Nothing.
No response.
No small voice calling back.
No giggling child jumping out from behind a display.
Just the endless, indifferent noise of the shopping center.
Footsteps behind him.
His head whipped around.
Elena! She's going to say 'got you, Papa!' She's going to—
Not Elena.
Erza stood there with two shopping bags in her hands, a receipt clutched between her fingers, her violet eyes scanning the numbers with the focused attention of someone calculating exactly how much money this idiot mortal had just lost. She'd found a clothing store with a discount sign and had disappeared inside while he watched Elena, and apparently she'd been successful in her hunt for bargains.
She was checking the bill.
Not looking at him.
Not knowing.
Not aware that everything had just changed.
Yuuta's blood ran cold as his imagination spiraled out of control. He could see it already—the shopping center transforming into a frozen wasteland, shoppers screaming as ice spread across every surface, the Dragon Queen unleashed and nothing, absolutely nothing, stopping her until she found their daughter. The vision was so vivid, so terrifying, that sweat began pouring down his face.
Erza looked up from her receipt, and her eyes narrowed instantly as she took in his pale face and panicked expression. Her nostrils flared slightly—she could smell fear, and his was rolling off him in waves.
"Why are you afraid like a scared cat all of a sudden?" she asked, her voice carrying that familiar edge of suspicion.
Yuuta opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His mind had completely shut down, leaving him standing there like a statue with his lips moving soundlessly.
Erza's gaze moved past him to the empty seat where Elena should have been, then back to his face. She didn't need him to answer. She understood immediately.
"Where is Elena, mortal?" Her voice dropped to temperatures that should have flash-frozen the air between them.
Yuuta froze completely. This was it. This was the moment. He knew he was done for.
"Elena?" He laughed nervously, the sound broken and pathetic. "Yes. Elena. Right. Well. You see—"
"You lost her....Am I right?" It wasn't a question. Her voice was the coldest he had ever heard it, and for one terrible moment, Yuuta thought his heart had actually stopped.
Erza raised her hand slowly, deliberately, and Yuuta closed his eyes, bracing himself for the end. He could imagine it—being ripped in half, or worse, something far more painful and creative than his mortal mind could conceive.
But instead of death, he heard a sigh.
"You idiot," Erza said, pressing her hand to her temple rather than using it to end his existence. "How did I trust that you would take care of that monstrous brat?"
Yuuta's eyes snapped open. "What?"
He blinked, rubbed his eyes, looked again. Erza was still there, still alive, still not killing him.
"Pardon? I'm dreaming?" He was so confused that the words tumbled out without permission. He had lost her daughter—her actual daughter, the most precious thing in her entire existence—and instead of ripping him apart, she was just... annoyed? Like this happened all the time?
Erza sighed again, a long-suffering sound that seemed to carry the weight of centuries. "It's not her first time disappearing. She will be fine. Let's search together."
Yuuta stared at her, his mouth hanging open. "How can you be so calm, Erza? Elena is missing! Disappeared! In a place she doesn't know! And you're not even worried about her?"
Erza crossed her arms. "As I said, it's not her first time. She has a talent for wandering off. Children are resilient. Dragons even more so." She paused. "If you want to find her quickly, look for a wrinkly-looking man. You will find Elena there."
"A wrinkly-looking man?"
"She likes old people. They remind her of someone." Erza didn't elaborate. "Go. Search. I'll take the other direction."
Yuuta didn't wait.
He ran.
Weaving through crowds, dodging shopping bags, calling Elena's name under his breath so he didn't panic other shoppers. His heart pounded. His lungs burned. But he didn't stop.
Behind him, Erza watched him go.
A small smile curved her lips.
"Idiot," she murmured to herself. "He didn't even listen to me. I can smell her. I found her the moment I realized she was gone."
She closed her eyes.
Breathed in.
There. Faint but unmistakable. Elena's scent. Her daughter's unique combination of dragon and human, of silver hair and tiny wings, of innocence and mischief.
She was in the food court.
With an elderly man who was probably buying her ice cream.
"Let him search," Erza whispered, her smile widening. "It will be fun to see his face when he realizes I knew all along. The panic. The relief. The exasperation."
She started walking.
Following the scent.
Following her daughter.
Leaving Yuuta to run in circles.
"Stupid mortal," she said softly. But there was no ice in her voice.
Only warmth.
Elena stood still in the middle of the mall, surrounded by a forest of legs that moved too fast and too tall, all of them rushing past her like she wasn't even there. Tall legs. Fast-moving legs. Weird legs. She squinted up at them, trying to spot a familiar pair, but there were too many, and they all looked the same from down here.
Where is that frog uncle? she asked herself, her eyes darting left and right, searching for any sign of her father's face or her mother's silver hair. No Papa. No Mama. Just legs. Endless, moving, indifferent legs.
But then she remembered something important.
Mama had told her once, back in their world, when they were still alone together. "Elena, if you ever get lost, find an adult. Ask them for help. Not all adults are good, but some are. You have to learn to tell the difference."
So Elena puffed out her cheeks, stood as tall as her three-year-old body could manage (which wasn't very tall at all), and began her mission.
Her eyes scanned the area until they landed on an old man sitting on a fancy bench near a bookstore. He had shiny round glasses perched on his nose and a white coat that made him look exactly like a grandpa professor from the stories Papa had been telling her about school. He looked kind. He looked safe. He looked like someone who would know what to do.
She marched right up to him with all the confidence of a tiny queen approaching a subject.
"Mr. Old Man!" she announced, her voice bright and clear. "I'm lost. Can you help me? My Mama is a queen—she will reward you!"
The old man blinked, clearly caught off guard by the tiny human calling him 'Mr. Old Man' with such casual authority. His eyebrows rose behind those round glasses as he took in the sight before him—a impossibly small girl with silver hair and strange eyes, dressed in clothes that looked both ordinary and somehow... not.
"Ah... you're lost?" he said gently, recovering his composure. "Come, sit with me."
Elena plopped down beside him on the bench like she owned it, her tiny legs swinging, her demeanor completely at ease despite being separated from her parents in a strange place.
The old man studied her for a moment, curiosity growing in his ancient eyes. "Don't you fear me?" he asked. "I am a stranger."
Elena tilted her head, genuinely confused by the question. "Fear? Why would I fear Mr. Old Man?" She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Mama says I can't die in this world. So why would I be scared?"
The old man's eyebrows climbed higher. The conversation he was having with this child was veering into territory that felt more like fantasy than reality, but that was normal for a child her age, wasn't it? Children had wild imaginations. They said strange things. It meant nothing.
He looked at her eyes more closely—really looked at them for the first time. They were crimson. Bright and vivid and unmistakably real.
"Little one," he said carefully, "are those your real eyes?"
Elena giggled, the sound bright and carefree. "Yes, Mr. Old Man! They're my real eyes!" She pointed at them proudly. "Mama says my eyes are the most beautiful eyes, but then she always says Papa's eyes are more beautiful." She pouted slightly at this memory. "I don't think that's fair. Mine are pretty too."
The old man chuckled, genuinely amused by this tiny creature's confidence. "How old are you, little one?"
"I'm four!" Elena held up three fingers proudly, then paused, looked at her hand, and added a fourth finger. "But sometimes I feel five."
He stared at her, his eyebrows climbing so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. "Incredible... You're four years old, but you can speak and think so clearly. Your imagination is remarkable for your age."
Elena's face lit up like someone had turned on a sun behind her eyes. "I know, right? But Mama always says I'm so slow to understand things." Her voice dropped slightly, a rare moment of vulnerability. "She says I take too long to learn."
"That's not true at all," the old man said firmly, surprising himself with how much he meant it. "You are smart—the smartest child I've met in a very long time." He leaned forward slightly. "Tell me about your mom and dad. What do they look like? So I can help find them."
Elena tilted her head, considering the question. "My mama has the same hair color as me. Silver. Really pretty. And my papa has the same eye color as me." She pointed at her crimson eyes again. "He's really nice. He makes really good food. And he's scared of Mama all the time, which is funny."
The old man's fingers moved subtly to his ear, tapping a small device hidden there.
"Assistant," he said quietly.
A voice crackled in response. "Yes, Headmaster?"
"Find the girl's father. They should be on the first floor—they'll look unique. A woman with white hair, and a man with red eyes who is desperately searching for someone."
"Understood, Headmaster."
He ended the call with a subtle tap and looked back at Elena, who was watching him with those impossibly red eyes, completely unbothered by the situation. Most children, he knew, would be crying by now. Screaming. Panicking. But this girl was just... chilling on his bench like she had nowhere else to be and all the time in the world.
Elena, meanwhile, had produced a lollipop from somewhere in her pocket—somehow not melted, a minor miracle—and was licking it contentedly, her legs swinging back and forth beneath her.
"So," the Headmaster said curiously, drawn in by this strange child's composure, "do you want to play a game while we wait?"
Elena's entire body jerked with excitement. "GAME?!"
The old man nodded, smiling at her reaction. "Yes. A game. Would you like to play?"
Elena jumped up and down on the bench, her tiny wings fluttering with excitement behind her. "YEAH! ELENA LOVES TO PLAY GAMES!"
The old man chuckled, warmth spreading through his chest. She was really just a child, wasn't she? Despite the strange eyes and the strange words, underneath it all, she was just a little girl who wanted to play.
Then Elena added, "What are we playing, Mr. Old Man? Do we have to torture humans? Or do we have to eat raw meat until our stomachs are full?"
The old man's soul nearly left his body.
His eyes went wide. His mouth opened and closed. His brain struggled to process the words that had just come out of this adorable little girl's mouth.
What kind of parents— he thought, horrified. What kind of parents teach their child that these are normal games?
He took a moment to compose himself, breathing deeply.
"No, little one," he said carefully, his voice slightly strained. "We are not playing those kinds of games."
Elena's face fell slightly, then brightened again. "Then what are we playing? Is it something new? Something cool?" She waved both hands in the air excitedly. "Something Elena has never played before?"
The old man reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "We're going to play something on here."
Elena stared at the device in his hand, her head tilting at an angle that would have been concerning in any other child. "Phone?" She pointed at the small rectangle. "This tiny box has games, Mr. Old Man?"
The old man smiled warmly at the tiny girl bouncing on the bench beside him, her excitement so pure and infectious that he couldn't help but feel his own spirits lift. "Yes, I do have games," he said, pulling out his phone and unlocking it with a practiced motion.
Elena's smile widened until it seemed to take over her entire face, and she bounced so enthusiastically that her lollipop nearly flew out of her hand. "I want to play new games!" she declared, reaching for the phone with grabby hands.
The old man chuckled and handed over the device, which looked comically large in her tiny grasp. "What would you like to play?" he asked, watching as she peered at the screen with intense concentration.
Elena studied the icons for a long moment, her brow furrowed in the way children did when they were taking something very seriously. Then her tiny finger shot out and pointed at one of the apps. "Elena wants to play this game!"
The old man leaned closer to see which icon she had chosen, and his eyebrows rose when he recognized it. "Are you sure you want to play this game, little one?" he asked, curiosity coloring his voice.
Elena nodded vigorously, her silver hair bouncing with the motion. "Hmm hmm!"
He laughed softly, genuinely amused by her confidence. "Did you ever play this game before?"
She looked at the app again—a chess icon, simple and elegant—and shook her head. "Elena didn't play this game before," she admitted, but then added with absolute certainty, "But if you teach Elena, Elena can win the game!"
The old man stared at her for a moment, taking in the casual confidence of this four-year-old who had just declared she could win at chess after being taught for the first time. Kids these days, he thought, shaking his head with a mixture of amazement and amusement.
"Very well, little one," he said, leaning in and positioning the phone where they could both see it. "Since you are so eager to learn, I will teach you."
Elena smiled so happily that it seemed to light up the entire corner of the mall. "Okay, Uncle!" She settled more comfortably on the bench, her legs swinging, her attention completely focused on the screen.
And so they began to learn.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the shopping center, Yuuta was running himself ragged.
He had searched every corner of every toy shop he could find, pushing through crowds of parents and children, his eyes scanning desperately for any sign of silver hair or tiny wings. Nothing. He had checked every candy store, every sweet shop, every place that sold the kind of sugary treats that might attract a four-year-old. Still nothing. He had even burst into the arcade game center, calling Elena's name over the noise of ringing bells and electronic music, drawing strange looks from everyone around him.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
"Elena!" he screamed again, his voice hoarse from calling, and took off running toward yet another section of the mall. He had never felt fear like this in his entire life—not when Erza first appeared in his apartment, not when the lion attacked at the zoo, not even when he'd been hanging from her grip over a four-story drop. This was different. This was worse. This was his daughter, his little princess, lost somewhere in this massive building, and he couldn't find her.
He approached a candy shop, breathless and desperate. "Have you seen a white-haired girl with red eyes?" he asked the cashier, his words tumbling out in a rush.
The cashier shook her head. "No, sorry."
Yuuta didn't even pause to thank her. He was already running again, heading for a different area, his legs burning, his lungs screaming, his heart pounding with a terror that refused to let him stop.
From a comfortable distance, Erza watched him.
She leaned against a pillar on the upper level, her violet eyes following his frantic movements as he darted from shop to shop, calling Elena's name, his panic visible even from here. She could see how desperate he was—the way his head whipped back and forth, the way he grabbed at strangers to ask questions, the way his whole body seemed coiled with barely controlled terror.
She felt something uncomfortable stir in her chest.
He really loves her, she thought. He loves her like she's his own. Like he's known her his whole life. Like nothing else in the world matters except finding her.
A small smile curved her lips.
"Idiot mortal," she murmured to herself. "He's such a dummy. If he knew that I can smell her scent, he would have begged me to help him search. But instead he ran off alone like a fool." She shook her head slowly. "Absolute idiot."
She could feel Elena's presence clearly now—close, calm, completely unafraid. Her daughter was fine. Happy, even. Probably charming some stranger with her ridiculous confidence and her matter-of-fact way of speaking.
Erza could end this whole farce right now. Could walk over to wherever Elena was, grab her, and bring her back to Yuuta. Could watch the relief flood his face and maybe, just maybe, feel that warmth in her chest that she still didn't understand.
But she didn't.
Instead, she stayed where she was, watching him run in circles, a strange fondness growing in her heart.
Let him search a little longer, she decided. It's good for him. Builds character.
Her smile widened.
Then, somewhere in the back of her ancient consciousness, a faint warning bell rang.
Not loud.
Not urgent.
Just... present.
She turned her head slightly, her senses reaching out, searching for the source of that subtle unease.
Nothing specific. Just a feeling. A whisper of something wrong.
Someone was watching.
Not her.
Not Yuuta.
Elena.
Erza's eyes narrowed.
She pushed off from the pillar and began to walk, following her daughter's scent with renewed purpose.
The game of watching Yuuta run in circles was over.
It was time to find her child.
To be continued...