Yuuta stood still, his hand pressed against his chest, his mind slow to understand what his body already knew.
The pain had come without warning, sharp and deep, as though something had torn him apart from the inside. But his thoughts were elsewhere, stuck on the pot that had fallen, on the stew soaking into the grass, on the chicken he had spent so long preparing now scattered across the ground like waste.
He looked at his hand. His palm was red, sticky, and warm.
Tomato puree, he thought, though even as the words formed in his mind, he knew they were not true. I must have spilled tomato puree on my shirt. But why does it hurt? Why does my chest feel like it is burning from the inside?
His body had not yet caught up to what had happened. The shock was still protecting him, wrapping him in a strange, dreamlike numbness where the edges of the world were soft and the pain was somewhere far away, like a sound heard through water.
But his vision was blurring. The faces around him, the parents, the students, the judges, were smearing into shapes he could not recognize, colors bleeding into one another, voices fading in and out like a radio losing signal.
He saw Erza.
For once, Erza wore none of her usual coldness. The look on her face was something he had never seen before.
Horror.
She was looking at him like he was already gone.
Erza's legs trembled beneath her. For a moment, she could scarcely feel them. Terror surged through her, unfamiliar and impossible to command.
She had walked through battlefields littered with corpses and watched armies break against her like waves against a cliff. Death had never frightened her. But this was a college festival, a place where families had gathered to celebrate.
And Yuuta was bleeding.
She moved toward him, her steps unsteady. Part of her still refused to believe what she was seeing. A moment ago, he had been running toward her with a pot of stew, eager for her to taste what he had made. Now his shirt was soaked in blood.
He reached out to her. His hand, red with his own blood, stretched toward her face.
"Erza..."
Not my queen or Your Highness. Just her name. Erza.
She caught him as his legs gave way and lowered him carefully to the grass. Blood spilled between her fingers when she pressed her hands to his chest, staining the white fabric of her dress.
Magic. I can heal him.
She pressed her palms against the wound and summoned the same healing magic that had restored him before. Light gathered between her fingers, flowing into his torn chest. She could feel the damage: broken ribs, a pierced lung, and blood escaping faster than his weakened body could bear.
The spell should have obeyed her. She knew how to mend flesh and bone. But she had never tried to heal someone while her own hands were shaking. Every time his breath faltered, her concentration broke. The light flickered, knitting a little tissue before losing its shape.
No. Steady. I have to be steady.
She forced more mana into the spell, but power alone could not replace the blood he had already lost. Even if she closed the wound, his body was growing colder in her arms. She needed to stop the bleeding, restore what had been lost, and keep him breathing and her fear made it harder to do even the first.
For the first time in centuries, the Dragon Queen could not make her own magic obey.
Yuuta's breathing grew shallow.
Each breath took more effort than the last. His lips parted, and a weak sound escaped him.
"It... hurts..."
He had rarely complained about pain, even as a child. In the orphanage, there had been no one to listen. When he scraped his knee or burned his hand, he had learned to endure it alone.
He could not pretend now.
"I… can't… stand…" Yuuta's voice broke apart between breaths, each word dragged through pain that refused to ease. His body trembled against her, his strength slipping little by little.
"It hurts… a lot… I can't see clearly…"
Erza pulled him closer and tried again. She narrowed her focus to the torn lung, but the moment she felt his heartbeat stumble, panic scattered the spell. The glow in her palms broke into uneven pulses.
She had enough mana to freeze an ocean. Yet she could not hold a simple healing pattern steady while the mortal in her arms was dying. Blood continued to seep through her fingers, and his pulse grew weaker beneath her touch.
"Am… I going to die… Erza…?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Her breath hitched.
"Don't say that," she snapped, her voice sharp, but it trembled despite her effort to control it. "Be quiet. I'm healing you."
Yuuta suddenly coughed, his body jerking violently as thick, dark blood spilled from his lips. Erza immediately wiped his mouth with a trembling thumb before pressing her hand against his wound again. Her healing magic flared, pouring into his broken body, but the light flickered and collapsed before the injury could close.
Despite Erza's desperate attempts to heal him, Yuuta could feel something terribly wrong happening inside his body. His fingers had gone numb, and he could no longer move his legs, no matter how desperately he tried. Even drawing a breath had become difficult. He could feel his strength slipping away, little by little, as though his body was slowly shutting down.
And then he understood.
He was dying.
Yuuta looked at Erza, who continued pouring her magic into him, refusing to give up even as her hands trembled. He wanted to reach out and touch her face, to tell her that everything would be all right, but his arm wouldn't obey him anymore. The realization frightened him more than he wanted to admit.
"Erza..." he whispered, barely managing to make his voice heard.
She didn't answer. Her attention remained fixed on his wound, desperately trying to keep the healing spell from collapsing again.
"Do you... remember..." Yuuta struggled to draw another breath. "What you said to me...?"
Erza's hands faltered for a moment, but she immediately forced more magic into his body.
"You said..." A faint, strained smile appeared on his bloodstained lips. "When I finally faced death... I wouldn't be able to smile..."
His voice grew weaker with every word. He could barely feel his body anymore, and even keeping his eyes open was becoming a struggle. Yet he continued looking at Erza, wanting to remember her face for as long as he could.
A tear slipped down from the corner of his eye, trailing across his face.
"…I think… you were right…"
His voice cracked, and the faint, fragile smile he tried to hold faltered.
"It's… terrifying, Erza…" he admitted, the fear finally surfacing, raw and honest in a way he had never shown before.
Her grip tightened around him.
"Stop talking," she said, her voice lower now, strained, almost pleading. "Save your strength. I will fix this."
She tried to steady her breathing, but the fear of losing him rose with every failed attempt. The wound began to close at its edges, then reopened when her concentration slipped. Too much blood was already gone.
Another weak breath escaped him, his chest rising and falling unevenly beneath her hands.
"I'm sorry…" he whispered, his voice barely there now, fading at the edges. "I can't… smile… like I promised…"
The promise.
She remembered. In the field, after the interview, after he had found her ring, he had promised to die smiling.
He had promised not to cry, not to beg, not to make her feel guilty for killing him. He had promised to accept his death with grace, to make it easier for her, to spare her the weight of what she would have to do.
But this was not her killing him. This was not her decision. This was something else. Something she could not control. Something that made the promise meaningless.
"Stop talking." Her voice was sharp, commanding, the voice she used when she needed someone to obey. "I did not give you permission to die."
He smiled.
It was a weak, trembling smile, nothing like the stubborn grin he usually gave her. That frightened her more than his words.
"Y-you know… Erza…" Yuuta murmured, his voice growing weaker with every word. "I was… always afraid of something…"
He struggled to draw another breath, his chest rising painfully beneath her trembling hands. For a moment, his mind wandered back to his childhood, to the countless nights he had spent alone, wishing there was someone who would notice if he disappeared. He remembered watching other children being embraced by their parents, while he could only wonder what it felt like to have someone waiting for him.
Even after growing older, that loneliness had never truly left him. He had learned to smile, to laugh, and to pretend that being alone didn't bother him. But somewhere deep inside, the little boy who had once wished for a family was still there, frightened that he would leave this world without anyone remembering him.
"I was… so afraid…" he whispered, his lips trembling. "Afraid that… when I died… no one would cry for me…"
His breath faltered, and his fingers twitched weakly against Erza's hand. A tear escaped the corner of his eye as he tried to look at her, his fading vision barely allowing him to make out her face.
"That I'd just… disappear… and no one would even notice…"
Erza's grip tightened around him. Tears continued streaming down her cheeks, falling onto his bloodstained clothes as she desperately tried to keep him alive. Yuuta could feel her trembling against him, and for the first time, the fear he had carried since childhood seemed a little less frightening.
Because someone was there.
Someone was holding him, crying for him, and refusing to let him go.
"But…" Yuuta whispered, a faint smile forming on his lips despite the tears slipping down his face. "I'm glad…"
He struggled to keep his eyes open, wanting to see her for just a little longer.
"I'm glad, Erza…"
His voice trembled as another tear rolled down his cheek.
"You're… crying for me…"
Another tear fell, though this one wasn't just from pain.
His eyes softened, even as they grew heavier.
"At least…" he breathed, the words fading as he struggled to finish them, "…I get to die… in your arms…"
No. You do not get to die. Not here. Not when I have only just decided to let you live.
"My Queen..."
Her vision blurred.
Tears slipped down her cheeks. She had not cried like this since her mother died, back when she learned that a queen could never afford to appear weak. Now she could not stop.
"Shut up," she said, her voice cracking. "Idiot mortal... shut up..."
But he continued, each word quieter than the last.
"I... I wanted to say this... for so long..."
His fingers twitched against her hand, barely moving, barely alive.
"I am... sorry... for everything... I am... sorry for assaulting you..."
He was apologizing even now. Erza remembered the accusations she had thrown at him, the punishment she had promised, and the way he had accepted her judgment. Whatever had happened five years ago, she could not bear to hear him beg forgiveness while dying in her arms.
"No." Erza's voice was sharp, cutting through the fog of her own shock. "It is not your fault, you dummy. Can you not stay quiet while I heal you?"
She drew a shaky breath and tried to gather her magic into a single, controlled flow. For an instant, the torn flesh responded. Then Yuuta coughed, his pulse weakened again, and her fear broke the spell.
Why can I not do this? She had healed worse injuries without hesitation. But she had never been afraid of the person beneath her hands dying. She was trying to force the magic to work while imagining the moment it might be too late.
But Yuuta was already somewhere else.
His body was failing. He could feel it in the way his breath came shorter, in the way his heart stuttered in his chest, in the way the world around him grew dimmer with each passing second.
A book he had once found in the orphanage library came back to him. It had described the feelings people might face near death: shock, fear, regret, and finally acceptance. He had never imagined those words would mean anything to him.
He thought of Elena. Of the school uniform he might never help her put on, the friends she would make, the birthdays he might miss. He had promised to be there as she grew up. He wanted to keep that promise.
He wanted to live. But the world was growing dark, and he could barely feel Erza holding his hand.
"I am sorry," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "if I ever treated you wrong."
Erza's tears fell onto his face, warm and salt. "You did not," she said. "You never did. Now stop talking and let me—"
He coughed. Blood spilled from his lips, running down his chin, dripping onto the grass. His body was shutting down. Erza tried to send another pulse of magic into him, but his breathing was failing faster than she could repair the damage.
"I hope..." His voice was barely audible. "You... remember me... my queen."
Remember him.
How could she forget him? He had held her hand on a bench at the zoo. He had danced with her despite his clumsy steps. He had searched for her ring until his hands were raw.
He had called her his family. He had made her feel things she had never felt before, things she did not have names for, things that terrified her more than any enemy ever had.
"I love you..."
The words were barely a whisper.
"Erza."
"I hope…" he whispered, his voice thinning, breaking as it struggled to exist, "in my next life…"
His fingers loosened in her grasp, the faintest tremor running through them before stillness began to take hold.
"…I'm born as a dragon… like you, Erza…"
A fragile smile remained on his lips, quiet, peaceful, as if the thought itself had brought him comfort.
"…so I can stand beside you…"
A pause.
A breath.
"I hope... I find you... in my next life...My queen..."
Love.
He loved her.
He had loved her despite her threats and the cold way she had treated him. He had searched for her ring, called her his family, and even promised to face death with a smile so she would not have to carry his guilt.
He had finally said the words she had never expected to hear, the ones she had told herself she did not want.
She felt nothing.
Only cold.
Only emptiness.
Only the weight of his body in her arms, growing heavier, growing still.
His eyes closed. His face was smiling. He was not breathing. He had accepted death without knowing why he had been killed, without knowing who had pulled the trigger, without knowing that he had been targeted not for who he was, but for what they believed he carried.
Erza watched him. She watched his chest fall still. The smile that had annoyed her so often remained faintly on his lips.
"Mortal?"
She blinked. The world around her was silent, frozen, waiting. Her grip tightened around him, her fingers pressing into his blood-soaked shirt.
"Mortal...?"
No response.
"YUUTA."
Her voice cracked. Her hands shook. She shook his shoulder gently, then a little harder, waiting for him to complain.
"Yuuta!"
A shaky laugh escaped her. She could not accept the silence.
"I see," she said. "So this is your revenge. You are angry because I embarrassed you in front of Sister Mary, right?"
She shook him again, lightly, playfully, the way she might have shaken him if he were still alive, if he were still breathing, if he were still here to complain about her treatment of him.
"Alright. I understand. You win."
She tried to smile, as though playing along would make him open his eyes.
"Now wake up."
Silence.
"Yuuta?"
Nothing.
Her hands loosened. Her body felt light, too light, as if something inside her had disappeared, had been taken, had been stolen. She looked at the ground, at the spilled stew, at the food he had made for her, the food she had mocked, the food she had planned to eat while pretending not to care.
She picked it up.
The stew was cold now, mixed with grass and dirt and his blood. She brought it to her lips.
She took a bite.
"...Disgusting," she whispered.
Another bite.
"You pathetic mortal. How can you cook something like this?"
She waited.
For a complaint. For that familiar, irritating voice telling her she was being unfair.
Nothing came.
"Yuuta..."
Her voice broke. Tears fell onto his motionless chest, onto the blood that had finally stopped flowing.
"Yuuta..."
Her shoulders shook as she pressed her hand against his chest, searching for a heartbeat.
"Yuuta, wake up!"
Her voice rose, cracked, shattered like glass dropped on stone.
"YOU CANNOT LEAVE ME LIKE THIS!"
Her scream rang across the college grounds. She no longer cared who heard her.
"I have already decided your punishment," she said, weeping now, her voice trembling, each word a struggle, each syllable a battle against the grief that was swallowing her whole. She held his hand above her, pressing his cold fingers against her cheek, against her tears, against the warmth that was fading from his skin.
"I have decided that you will not die. So do not die Please."
Her tears soaked his shirt. She bent over him, holding his hand against her cheek as though the warmth of her skin might reach him.
The sky above her was dark. It had been afternoon when the bullet hit, bright and warm, the kind of day that belonged to festivals and laughter and the joy of cooking. But now the light was gone, swallowed by thick black clouds that had gathered from nowhere, that had formed in response to her grief, to her rage, to the power that was leaking from her like blood from a wound.
She did not notice. She did not care.
The ring slipped from Yuuta's finger.
It struck the grass with a faint metallic sound. Amid the cries and the rising wind, Erza heard it clearly.
Her mother's voice echoed in her mind, words spoken centuries ago, in a palace of ice and fire, in a time when she had believed in love.
The ring will stay until death parts you.
Death had parted them.
To be continued...
Note:-
Dear readers, ❤️
First of all, thank you for reading my story this far!
From this point onward, the chapters will be locked. If you decide to continue, I recommend using ads to unlock chapters whenever possible, as some upcoming chapters are more expensive due to their higher word counts.
Especially Chapters 75–140, which explore Yuuta's mysterious origin, Erza's past, new characters, ancient secrets, and the beginning of the Nova World arc. Many of these chapters exceed 3,000 words, costing around 25–40 coins.
I also want to confess something.
Some of these older locked chapters contain repetitive narration and excessive AI-assisted writing. I realized these mistakes too late, and unfortunately, my editor informed me that major changes weren't possible because readers had already purchased them.
So I have a small request: If you notice unnecessary repetition, please focus on the dialogue and important story moments. I know it's not ideal, and I sincerely apologize.
From Chapter 147 onward, my writing improves significantly, with smoother narration and much less repetition.
I know your time and money are valuable, and I genuinely don't want you to waste either. Whether you continue reading is entirely your choice, but if you decide to support my story, I'll do my best to make it worthwhile.
Thank you for supporting Yuuta, Erza, Elena, and the world I've created. ❤️
— Benlies