"Sorry for making you wait, Mister." Yuuta shook his head slowly, regret clear on his face, his voice carrying the weight of a decision that cost him more than the Headmaster could ever know. "I am truly grateful that the Headmaster of such a prestigious academy would extend an invitation to my daughter. It's an honor we never expected and can never repay."
The Headmaster's smile began to fade, uncertainty creeping into his ancient eyes.
"But we are not worthy to be there." Yuuta met his gaze directly, and there was pain there—genuine, soul-deep pain—but also acceptance. The kind of acceptance that came from recognizing your own limitations and making peace with them. "So please... we humbly reject it."
Silence.
Complete, absolute, deafening silence.
The assistants stared, their mouths slightly open, their minds struggling to process what they had just heard. This didn't happen. This never happened. People didn't reject the Morning Star Elite Academy. They begged to get in. They sacrificed everything. They moved mountains.
The Headmaster's face went through several unreadable expressions—shock, confusion, disbelief, and something else that none of his assistants could identify. He had been so confident, so absolutely certain, that no one in the world would reject him. He had walked into this shopping center knowing he would leave with that brilliant child secured for his academy.
But standing before him now was a family who had rejected the most prestigious invitation in the world like it was junk mail.
Erza crossed her arms, watching the scene with cold satisfaction. A small part of her—a part she would never acknowledge—felt proud of Yuuta. He hadn't made a fuss. He hadn't begged or pleaded or tried to negotiate. He had accepted his flaw, acknowledged the reality, and made the hard choice. It was a habit she admired in him, this strange ability to accept things and try to solve them rather than running away.
He was still an idiot, of course.
But he was her idiot.
The Headmaster found his voice. "Are you sure you want to reject this?" he asked, the words coming out before he could stop them.
Behind him, his assistants leaned forward, alarm on their faces. "Headmaster—" one of them began, reaching out as if to physically stop him from continuing this conversation.
The Headmaster turned.
Just looked at them.
But the look on his face was one they had never seen before—a rage so deep, so controlled, so absolutely terrifying that they immediately stepped back and lowered their eyes. This was not the gentle, grandfatherly Headmaster they knew. This was the man who had built the most powerful academy in the world, who had faced down governments and corporations and walked away victorious.
When he turned back to Yuuta and Erza, however, the rage was gone. In its place was curiosity. Genuine, burning curiosity about these people who defied every expectation.
"Please, young man," he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "Think about it. Are you really willing to give up your daughter's future like this?"
Yuuta looked at Elena.
She was playing nearby, completely oblivious to the conversation that would determine her future. Twirling in circles. Chasing imaginary butterflies. Being a child.
His heart raced.
He wanted to see her in a school uniform. He wanted to see her carrying a backpack, running toward a yellow bus, waving goodbye before embarking on adventures he could only imagine. He wanted her to make friends, to learn things he couldn't teach her, to experience the joy and pain of exams and projects and all the small moments that made up a childhood.
But dreams cost money.
And some dreams cost more than you could ever afford.
That was the reality of being human. You could have all the desire in the world, all the hope, all the love—but without the fuel to power those dreams, they remained just that. Dreams. Unreachable. Unattainable.
And Yuuta, he realized with painful clarity, was one of those humans.
He smiled at the Headmaster—a warm smile, a genuine smile, but one that carried the weight of everything he was giving up. "No," he said quietly. "I don't think Elena is worthy enough to be in that academy."
"What the hell did you say?" Erza's voice cut through from behind him like a blade.
Yuuta whipped his head around, panic flashing across his face. "Erza, please—" he started, but she was already crossing her arms and turning her face away with a dismissive huff.
The Headmaster watched this exchange with growing frustration. He was trying—genuinely trying—to understand what was stopping these people from accepting his offer. What could possibly be more important than their daughter's future?
"May I know the reason, young man?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral. "Help me understand."
Before Yuuta could respond, Erza snapped.
Her patience, already thin, evaporated entirely.
"You old fossil, listen to me." Her voice was ice wrapped around steel, the voice of a queen addressing something beneath her notice. "First of all, Elena is more worthy than your closed-room school could ever handle. She has more potential in her tiny finger than all your precious students combined."
The Headmaster blinked.
"And second—" Erza's eyes narrowed. "Your fucking fees are too much for us to afford. So stop pushing."
The words hung in the air like bombs waiting to explode.
The assistants gasped.
The Headmaster stared.
Yuuta stared at Erza with an expression that clearly said thank you for ruining this in the most worst way possible. His eyes were practically crying, begging her to understand the social disaster she had just created.
Erza glanced at him, caught his expression, and shrugged. "Don't look at me like that. I was just irritated by the way you were rejecting him. So pathetic. So weak." She crossed her arms again, turning her face away. "Someone had to do it properly."
The Headmaster stood frozen, processing everything.
The fees.
They couldn't afford the fees.
The Headmaster looked at Yuuta's family with fresh eyes, his earlier assumptions crumbling around him like a house of cards. He had been so certain—so absolutely, arrogantly certain—that they were wealthy.
Elena's dress, though simple, was made of quality fabric that spoke of careful selection. Her face, with those impossible crimson eyes and that silver hair, looked like something out of a fairy tale, the kind of child only the richest families could produce. And Erza—Erza moved like royalty, spoke like royalty, was royalty in every way that mattered.
Her confidence was absolute. Her elegance was effortless. Her emotional maturity, the way she cared for her family, the beauty that made people stop and stare—all of it had convinced him beyond any doubt that they belonged to the upper echelons of society.
He had never once considered they might be anything else.
He hit his own head with his hand, a sharp gesture of self-reproach. How could he have judged a book by its cover? How could he, after all these years, have made such a fundamental mistake?
Yuuta saw the gesture and misinterpreted it completely. His nervous laugh bubbled up, high and strained. "Okay, Headmaster, it was really nice meeting you. We'll be going now." He grabbed Elena's hand and began walking, his heart pounding, his mind already racing through the consequences of Erza's bluntness.
They had insulted a powerful man. A very powerful man. And now they needed to leave before things got worse.
Elena waved back at the Headmaster with her free hand. "Bye-bye, Old Man! Thank you for the chocolate!"
"Wait!"
The word cracked through the shopping center like thunder.
Yuuta stopped.
The Headmaster's voice had been desperate—not angry, not commanding, but desperate. The voice of a child who had spotted a toy in a store window and couldn't bear to leave without it.
Yuuta's blood ran cold. I'm done, he thought, his mind spiraling into panic. This is it. Because of Erza, we're doomed. You never insult rich people. You never, ever insult rich people. I should have just accepted gracefully and left. I should have—
His thoughts were a whirlwind of self-recrimination and fear.
Erza, however, was unbothered. Completely, utterly unbothered.
She recognized the look in the Headmaster's eyes because she had seen it a thousand times before. It was the same look that appeared on the faces of merchants who came to her kingdom, offering land and gold in exchange for favors. It was the look of someone who had found something they wanted—no, needed—and would do anything to possess it.
Desire.
Pure, unfiltered, desperate desire.
She smiled. A small, cruel, satisfied smile.
It had been so long since she had seen that look. So long since she had the pleasure of crushing someone's hopes, watching their face fall from eager anticipation to devastated defeat. Her instincts sharpened. She was going to enjoy this.
The Headmaster laughed—a strange, breathless sound—and raised his hands in apology. "I am truly sorry for not clarifying the details earlier. Please, young man, let me explain."
Yuuta stopped, turning back with cautious confusion. "What do you mean? Not clarifying what?"
The Headmaster's eyes gleamed. "When I said I was interested in your daughter, I meant I am offering her a scholarship interview. A full scholarship. Tuition, books, uniforms, everything covered."
The words hit Yuuta like a wave.
Scholarship.
Full scholarship.
His mouth opened. Nothing came out.
Behind the Headmaster, his assistants exchanged alarmed glances. This was unprecedented. A direct scholarship offer without board approval? The elder teachers would revolt. The student council would demand explanations. This was not how things were done.
But the Headmaster didn't care.
Hope surged in Yuuta's chest, bright and fierce and terrifying. He had given up. He had accepted that Elena's dream—his dream for her—was impossible. And now, suddenly, impossibly, it was back.
Erza's smile faltered.
She had been ready. Ready to watch the hope drain from the Headmaster's face, ready to deliver the final crushing blow, ready to savor the familiar satisfaction of breaking someone's dreams.
But Yuuta turned to her before she could speak.
His eyes were shining.
"See, Erza?" His voice was soft, almost breathless. "Elena can attend. We don't have to pay. She can go."
Erza froze.
The words she had prepared—cutting, dismissive, absolute—died on her lips.
She looked at his face.
At the hope there.
At the light in his eyes.
At the father who had just been given back something he thought he had lost.
Erza Vely Dragomir had shattered the hopes of countless people. She had watched generals fall to their knees, merchants weep in despair, rulers beg for mercy. She had taken pleasure in it, once. It was the privilege of power, the right of a queen, to decide who rose and who fell.
But Yuuta's face—
Yuuta's face had become her nightmare.
She couldn't do it.
She couldn't take this from him.
Something stopped her. Something she didn't understand. Something that made her chest ache and her throat tight and her heart beat in ways it shouldn't.
She looked away.
"I don't care," she said coldly. "Do whatever you want. It's not my problem."
But her voice lacked conviction.
And somewhere, deep in the frozen wasteland of her heart—
Something was thawing.
After the Headmaster saw the hope flickering back into Yuuta's eyes, he understood immediately that this conversation needed to continue somewhere more private. Somewhere away from the chaos of the shopping center, away from the lingering stares of curious onlookers, away from the assistants who kept glancing at their watches with barely concealed panic.
He escorted them through a discreet side entrance, past a security checkpoint that made Yuuta's eyes widen, and into a private lobby reserved for the most important guests of the shopping center—the kind of place where deals were made between politicians, where business moguls closed billion-dollar agreements, where the powerful conducted their affairs away from the eyes of the ordinary.
The room was stunning. Marble floors that reflected the soft lighting like still water. Walls paneled in dark wood that smelled of age and money. Furniture that looked like it had been imported from palaces, each piece probably worth more than Yuuta's entire apartment. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, scattering light into rainbows that danced across the walls. In the corner, a uniformed server stood ready, a silver tray balanced on one hand, waiting to serve whatever was requested.
The reason for all this extravagance was simple: the Headmaster wanted Elena in his academy. It was not common on Earth for a random four-year-old child who had only recently learned to speak not only spoke fluently but could beat chess bots like it was child's play. And it wasn't as if she had secretly played chess before—her age made it clear she was simply born to dominate. As they said, a diamond expert could differentiate a rock from a diamond, and the Headmaster had done exactly that.
Yuuta and Erza sat in the lobby, a luxury waiting room specially created for the rich and powerful, where a single cup of coffee cost three thousand dollars. Yuuta sat stiffly in his plush armchair, his hands folded in his lap, afraid to touch anything, afraid to breathe too loudly, afraid to do anything that might reveal how completely out of place he was.
Erza sat beside him, her posture perfect, her expression cold, her presence a shield against the overwhelming opulence.
Then she got up.
Yuuta's hand shot out and gently caught hers—a reflex, instinctive and desperate. "Where are you going?" His voice was nervous, higher than he intended, and he hated how weak it sounded.
He truly needed her. This was his first time in a place like this—sparkling, luxurious, filled with the kind of people who could kill someone and get away with it like it was nothing. The thought made his stomach churn. The only person he could rely on in this insane situation was the Queen of Atlantis herself, because she was royalty. She knew how to navigate this world of power and privilege. He was just a university student who talked to his car when he was lonely.
And now she was leaving.
Erza looked down at his hand touching hers without permission, her expression cold. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice flat.
Yuuta's face flushed. "Well, you see—we're in an expensive place. And there are important people here. You can't just walk out like that. It would be disrespectful to the Headmaster."
Erza glanced at the old man, who was politely pretending not to notice their exchange, then back at Yuuta. She sighed. "I have urgent matters to settle somewhere else."
Yuuta's grip tightened slightly. "Urgent matters? What could be more urgent than this opportunity?"
Erza's eyes narrowed. "You idiot mortal. He only needs your signature. It has nothing to do with me. You can handle this much."
But as she said the words, she saw something in Yuuta's eyes—genuine panic, genuine fear, genuine helplessness. He wasn't just being clingy. He was terrified.
She looked at his hand still holding hers, at the slight tremor in his fingers, at the way he was trying so hard to be brave and failing.
He's scared, she realized. Not of me. Not of the Headmaster. Of himself. Of messing this up. Of not being good enough for this opportunity.
She had thought he was weak. Physically, emotionally, in every way that mattered to a Dragon Queen. But now she understood—he wasn't weak. He was just human. And humans, she had learned, sometimes needed to be reminded of their own strength.
His grip loosened. "I see," he said, his voice low, and he started to pull away.
Erza raised her finger and tapped him gently on the temple.
Yuuta blinked, confused, his face flushing slightly at the unexpected touch.
And then a voice appeared.
Not outside.
Inside his head.
"Pathetic."
Yuuta's eyes went wide. His mouth opened. "What—what's happening?!"
"Telepathy," Erza's voice said inside his mind, calm and cold. "I thought you were weak, but I thought at least you were mentally strong. Now I see you're just pathetic—a weakling who loses his confidence the moment he sees a shiny marble floor."
Yuuta's thoughts scrambled. "It's not like that! I just got scared. These people have power—they can rule the entire system. This is my first time meeting someone this powerful—"
"Power?" Her voice was sharp with disdain. "What power? You are making them powerful by your own thoughts. They don't rule over you."
Yuuta's eyes widened.
"Don't show them your weakness," she continued, her words cutting through his fear like a blade through fog. "Don't let them use it against you. Have a spine. Face it. You disgusting mortal."
Yuuta's mind raced. "You can say that easily. I can't."
Erza's voice went cold—colder than he had ever heard it. "I never thought you were this weak. You speak to me—a royalty—without fear, and I thought you feared nothing. When I saw you fight against beasts several times stronger than you, I thought you were a courageous fool."
She paused.
"But I was wrong. Humans are nothing but weak."
Yuuta's eyes snapped open.
He understood.
For anyone else, these words would have been an insult—a cruel dismissal of everything he was. But he could see how Erza had framed it. She wasn't mocking him. She was reminding him.
He could talk to a Dragon Queen who was capable of destroying planets. He had thrown himself into a lion's den to protect his daughter. He had faced death and walked away. Why was a room full of expensive furniture making him tremble?
He looked up at the Headmaster.
And for the first time since entering this place, he felt something strange.
Confidence.
He looked at Erza, his eyes bright, his smile genuine. "Thank you, my queen." His voice was soft, warm, grateful.
Erza stared at him.
Something flickered in her chest—something warm, something uncomfortable, something she didn't understand.
She looked away. "I will return within the hour."
The words came out automatically. She didn't know why she said them. She didn't know why she felt the need to promise her return, to reassure him, to give him something to hold onto.
Yuuta smiled—a real smile, warm and steady. "Sure. You can go. Take care of yourself, my queen."
Erza's cheeks went pink.
She yanked her hand free.
And fled.
She rushed out of the lobby, down the hallway, disappearing around the corner before anyone could see the color rising in her face.
Yuuta watched her go, confused. He crossed his arms. "What was that? Why did she run away like that?"
Elena, who had been watching everything with the intense focus only children could muster, crossed her tiny arms and tilted her head in perfect imitation of her father. "Hmm. Mama does act weird, doesn't she, Papa?"
The Headmaster, who had been pretending to study a document during the entire exchange, looked up with a knowing smile.
The Headmaster chuckled softly from his chair, watching the exchange with knowing eyes. "Young man," he said, his voice warm with amusement, "you are truly clueless about a woman's heart."
Yuuta caught his expression. "What?"
The Headmaster chuckled. "Nothing, young man. Nothing at all."
But his eyes said everything.
To be continued...
[End of chapter]
Yuuta: Hey, legends! Thanks for reading this far—it really means the world to us.
Yeah, we noticed... some readers vanished like ninjas in the night. But hey, we're not giving up. We're just getting started.
Elena: tears welling up Papa… did they break their promise to stay with us forever?
Yuuta: gentle pat on her head No, sweetheart. Maybe the story didn't shine bright enough for everyone. But that's on me—we'll make it better, together.
Erza: Hmph. Enough moping. Readers come and go. True FOOL don't whine—they grind.
So, Pathetic Mortal, focus on your work. We've got a world to shake and a story to finish.
Yuuta: You're right. No more sulking.
To those still reading—thank you. You're the real MVPs. And to those who left... we'll write something so good, you'll have to come back.
So don't forget to comment, share your thoughts, and stay with us—because this next arc?
It's going to blow. Your. Freakin'. Mind..