After running for several minutes without stopping, Yuuta finally reached the college gates. His lungs burned as he slowed to a halt, bending forward with his hands resting on his knees while he struggled to catch his breath. The early morning air felt cold against his skin, but it did little to calm the storm still raging inside his chest.
This wasn't an ordinary college.
John Bosco Culinary College stood before him, its tall gates and clean stone walls giving off an air of discipline and prestige. It was one of the city's most respected culinary institutions, a place where students learned not just how to cook, but how to survive in a brutal, competitive world of flavors, techniques, and reputation.
Yuuta straightened up, adjusted the strap of his bag, and let out a long breath.
"At least… I'm not late today," he murmured.
For once, that alone felt like a victory.
He stepped inside and made his way down the hallway. As always, it was crowded and noisy. Groups of students leaned against the walls, laughing and gossiping about everything from failed recipes to secret relationships. Some whispered about teachers, others bragged about last night's parties, and a few discussed upcoming practical exams with nervous expressions.
Yuuta moved through the crowd quietly, keeping his head low. He had learned long ago that drawing attention to himself rarely ended well.
Then, suddenly, he collided with someone.
Yuuta barely staggered, but the other guy lost his balance and fell back onto the floor with a dull thud. Instinctively, Yuuta stopped and turned around.
"Sorry," Yuuta said, already bending down. "You okay?"
The boy groaned softly, rubbing the back of his head."Ouch… man, that's my fault. I haven't been focusing lately," he said with a sheepish laugh.
"No problem," Yuuta replied calmly, extending his hand. "Come on, get up."
The boy reached out and grabbed Yuuta's hand.
For a brief moment, everything seemed normal.
Then the boy looked up.
His smile faded instantly.
His fingers trembled as his eyes locked onto Yuuta's face—onto his eyes. Crimson.
Deep, unnatural red, carrying a strange weight that pressed down on his instincts like an invisible force.
Fear flooded the boy's expression.
It wasn't logical. It wasn't rational. It was primal.
The boy yanked his hand back as if burned.
"I—I'm sorry!" he screamed suddenly. "I didn't mean to! Please forgive me!"
Before Yuuta could even process what was happening, the boy scrambled to his feet and ran, bolting toward the staircase. His footsteps echoed loudly as he fled upward, shouting apologies again and again, as if running from something far more terrifying than a simple misunderstanding.
Yuuta stood frozen in place, his hand still half-raised.
"…What?" he muttered, completely stunned.
Slowly, the hallway fell quiet.
Yuuta became aware of the silence only when it felt too heavy to ignore. Students nearby had stopped talking. Conversations died mid-sentence. One by one, heads turned toward him. Eyes followed him with a mix of confusion, curiosity… and unease.
Yuuta shifted uncomfortably and continued walking, brushing past them while pretending not to notice their stares.
"Why is everyone acting so weird…?" he muttered under his breath.
Then he saw it.
A reflection in the glass panel beside a classroom window.
He stopped.
Stepped closer.
And his heart sank.
Yuuta placed both hands against the glass, staring at the face reflected back at him. His breath caught in his throat as realization struck.
His contact lenses were gone.
In their place were his real eyes—crimson, sharp, impossible to hide.
"How…?" he whispered, panic creeping into his voice. "When did they…?"
The memory struck him without warning.
Yuuta's steps faltered for just a fraction of a second as his mind dragged him backward—back to the cramped apartment, back to the cold floor beneath his feet, back to the moment her hand had closed around his throat.
Erza's fingers had wrapped around him with terrifying ease.
He remembered the way his body had lifted off the ground, the way his feet had kicked uselessly in the air. He had clawed at her wrist, nails scraping against skin that felt harder than steel. No matter how much he struggled, it hadn't mattered. Her strength wasn't just greater than his.
It was inhuman.
His vision had blurred. His lungs had screamed. And in the middle of that panic—while grasping blindly for anything, for any chance to breathe—he had felt something slide loose.
His contact lenses.
The memory faded, but the tightness in his chest remained.
"So that's when I lost them…" Yuuta murmured under his breath.
Keeping his head lowered, he continued walking.
Class D of the third year was on the second floor. The staircase creaked faintly beneath his steps as he climbed, careful not to draw attention. Normally, he would greet a few classmates here and there—exchange lazy jokes, complain about assignments—but today, he avoided everyone.
He didn't trust himself to meet anyone's eyes.
The hallway on the second floor was already crowded. Students leaned against the walls, some laughing loudly, others whispering in small groups. Conversations overlapped—complaints about assignments, gossip about teachers, rumors about who was dating whom.
Yuuta slipped through quietly.
Then the whispers started.
"Oh, look who showed up."
The voice was sharp, deliberately loud.
Yuuta felt it before he saw them.
A group of girls stood near the railing, their attention fixed squarely on him. Their eyes flicked over him with open judgment, amusement curling at the corners of their lips.
"See, Fiona?" one of them said mockingly. "Your biggest stalker made it to class today."
A soft laugh followed.
Yuuta's shoulders stiffened.
He kept his gaze down, pretending he hadn't heard a word. Responding would only make things worse—especially to them. Fiona's fan group. A cluster of girls who thrived on rumors and half-truths, spreading stories like wildfire through the college.
Just endure it, he told himself.
"What do you even see in him?" another girl scoffed. "Seriously, do you think someone like that could ever be a good match for Fiona?"
Yuuta's fingers curled slowly at his sides.
He opened his mouth—
"That's enough."
The voice was calm.
Soft.
Yet it carried a quiet authority that sliced cleanly through the hallway noise.
Conversations stopped.
Even the air seemed to still.
The girls froze. Color drained from their faces as footsteps approached.
"I—I just remembered something," one of them said quickly."Yeah, me too! I think I left my phone in class," another added.
They didn't wait for a response.
One by one, they retreated, vanishing into the classroom as if chased away by an invisible force.
None of them wanted to cross her.
Yuuta slowly lifted his head.
She stood there, posture straight, expression unreadable.
"Fiona," he said, exhaling quietly. "I'm… glad you're here."
She looked at him.
Fiona had black hair that fell neatly around her shoulders and amber eyes that seemed sharper than most people realized. Her figure was slim, her movements precise, as if every step was measured. To others, she was distant—cold, disciplined, almost untouchable.
Beautiful, but unreachable.
Yet with Yuuta, there was no mask.
No forced distance.
For reasons even he couldn't explain, she treated him differently.
Her gaze lingered on his face a little longer than usual.
And Yuuta felt it immediately.
That subtle shift.
That quiet pause.
She had noticed.
She always did.
Yuuta smiled instinctively when he saw Fiona, relief easing some of the tension coiled in his chest.
That relief vanished almost immediately.
Fiona stopped in front of him, her amber eyes widening just slightly as her gaze locked onto his face. It was subtle, but Yuuta knew her well enough to notice. She stared for a second longer than necessary before speaking.
"Yuuta," she said quietly, her tone edged with surprise, "your eyes…"
His smile froze.
Realization hit him like a slap.
Yuuta reacted on pure instinct, raising both hands and covering his face with his palms. "D-Don't look at me," he said quickly. "I might've startled you."
Fiona let out a tired sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as if she had expected this all along. "Oh, come on. It's not like I don't know about your red eyes," she said flatly.
"Did you forget your contact lenses again?"
Yuuta lowered his hands a little,
embarrassment creeping across his face.
"Yeah… I didn't even realize it," he admitted, rubbing the back of his head. "I thought I packed them."
Without another word, Fiona reached behind her back, stretching slightly before pulling out a small rectangular case. She held it out toward him. "Here," she said. "Return it to me after class."
Yuuta blinked slowly, adjusting to the clearer vision.
"Contact lenses?" he muttered, turning the small case over in his hand. Then he looked up at her. "Why do you even have these, Fiona?"
Fiona avoided his gaze for a brief second before turning her face slightly away.
"I just happened to find them in my bag," she replied casually. "You needed them, so I gave them to you. That's all."
Yuuta studied her expression carefully. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"I knew it," he said lightly. "There's no way you'd keep something like this unless you cared. You like me."
Before he could react, she struck him lightly on the head.
"Idiot," she said flatly. "I told you already—I don't like you. Not even a little. I found them in my bag. That's all. And besides…" She crossed her arms. "I don't like that red eye of yours."
The words lingered longer than she intended.
Yuuta's smile faded.
"Oh," he said quietly. "So you're the same as everyone else."
Fiona stiffened.
"That's not what I meant," she said quickly, noticing the shift in his expression. "I didn't mean it like that."
For a brief moment, something unreadable flickered across Yuuta's face. Then, just as quickly, he laughed.
"I'm joking," he said, waving it off. "But still… I think I I can feel the love hidden inside."
She paused, glanced back at him, and shook her head with the faintest smile tugging at her lips. "Idiot," she muttered before heading into the classroom. Just before disappearing, she added, "And don't forget about Jenny's appointment."
"I remember, Class Leader Fiona," Yuuta replied, smiling to himself.
He waited until she was gone before slipping away to the restroom. Standing in front of the mirror, he carefully placed the black-colored lenses into his eyes, blinking a few times until the familiar world returned. The red was gone. Normalcy restored—at least on the surface.
When Yuuta entered the classroom, the usual noise washed over him immediately. Laughter echoed from one corner. A heated argument broke out near the windows.
Someone was loudly retelling a story that had already been told three times.
One of his friends waved enthusiastically from the back, clearly expecting Yuuta to come over and join the chaos like he always did.
But today was different.
Yuuta wasn't in the mood.
Normally, he played the role of the class clown—cracking strange jokes, spinning ridiculous lies, making himself the center of attention just to avoid being taken seriously. Today, however, exhaustion weighed on him. The events of the morning, the shock of everything that had happened, were already more than enough.
He walked past his friends and took his usual seat at the back of the room.
Most people thought he sat there to throw comments from a distance and disappear after making jokes.
The truth was simpler—and heavier.
He was afraid.
Afraid the contact lenses might slip out again. Afraid someone would see his real eyes. Afraid the whispers would start, branding him as something monstrous. Devil. Demon. Titles he despised.
Yuuta leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a brief moment. None of this felt real. Being married. Having a child. A Dragon Queen sharing his life. It all felt too surreal for his mind to fully accept.
His gaze drifted forward, landing on Fiona.
She was already focused on her book, calm and composed, unaware of the stares directed at her from several boys around the room. Yuuta had planned to confess to her today—he had rehearsed the words in his head countless times.
Now that plan felt laughably distant.
All because of one unexpected lizard.
"No," he corrected himself internally, scowling. "Dragon."
Damn lizard queen.Obnoxious. Terrifying. Completely unreasonable.
…Okay, maybe not ugly.
His thoughts betrayed him, replaying memories he didn't want to acknowledge. Her tall figure. Her strength. The strange elegance she carried. The faint scent of lilies. Beauty that didn't belong to this world.
Yuuta groaned, hitting his forehead lightly with his palm. "She's a disaster," he muttered. "Why do I even miss her?"
The words slipped out louder than he intended.
Silence fell over the classroom.
Dozens of eyes turned toward him.
Then laughter erupted.
"Yo, Yuuta, what was that about?" someone called out, still chuckling.
Yuuta snapped back to reality, panic flashing across his face. He quickly lowered his head, hiding behind his book. "S-Sorry," he muttered. "I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings."
Yuuta forced himself to shake the thoughts out of his head and opened his notebook, gripping the pen as though the simple action might anchor him to the present. The page was blank—clean, untouched—and for a fleeting moment, he wished his mind could be the same. Empty. Quiet. Free of everything that had gone wrong since morning.
And then
That fragile hope shattered the instant their eyes met.
Fiona's.
She was looking directly at him.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to freeze in place. The noise of the classroom dulled into a distant hum, as if someone had turned the volume down on reality itself. Movements blurred at the edges of his vision, and a strange chill crawled slowly up his spine, as though invisible fingers had pressed coldly against his back.
Fiona.
The girl who helped him just earlier, he had once liked—and if he was honest with himself, still did.
The girl who noticed things others overlooked.
The girl who had helped him more times than he could count, often without ever saying a word.
From beside him, his friends nudged his arm, barely containing their excitement as they whispered with poorly hidden grins.
"Bro, she's staring at you. She must've heard the rumors about your proposal."
"You should propose today. I bet she'll accept this time."
Their voices reached his ears, but the meaning struggled to sink in. Yuuta heard the sounds, yet his mind remained somewhere else entirely.
They didn't know.
They couldn't know.
How could he possibly face her like this?
His thoughts spiraled inward, tightening into a quiet, suffocating panic. He couldn't even bring himself to lift his gaze properly, let alone walk up to her and pretend that everything was normal.
What was he supposed to say?
That he had woken up beside a woman who claimed to be his wife?
That she had nearly crushed his throat with inhuman strength simply because he tried to deny her existence?
That a child now called him Papa with complete, unquestioning innocence?
No.
There was no version of this conversation that didn't end in disaster.
Yuuta couldn't talk to anyone.
Not Fiona.
Not his friends.
Not today.
He focused on his breathing, slow and deliberate, but a cold sweat still slid down the back of his neck. His fingers tightened around the edge of his desk until his knuckles ached. If Fiona looked any closer, she would notice his eyes. She always did. She had a way of seeing through people when they least wanted to be seen.
Her gaze wasn't casual.
It wasn't curious.
It felt searching.
Just before the moment could stretch any further—before Fiona could stand, approach, or speak—the classroom door slid open.
Their teacher walked in.
The chatter died instantly, as if someone had flipped a switch.
Fiona broke eye contact and turned away.
Only then did Yuuta realize he had been holding his breath. He exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging as a wave of relief washed over him.
Yet the tightness in his chest refused to fade.
Because for the first time in his life, Yuuta wasn't afraid of being mocked or isolated.
He was afraid of being exposed.
Afraid that someone he cared about might discover what he really was.
"Alright, settle down," the teacher said, clapping his hands once. "Today, we'll be learning how to prepare French-style roast chicken."
The moment the word chicken reached Yuuta's ears, something heavy stirred in his chest.
A memory surfaced uninvited—sharp, vivid, and far too recent.
Erza.
Elena.
Even with that woman's terrifying power, even with the way her hand had nearly crushed his throat, she had revealed one undeniable weakness.
Food.
The food he made.
And Elena… his little girl… she had clapped her tiny hands, smiling with unrestrained joy as she ate. A joy so pure Yuuta had never seen anything like it—not even among humans.
If he could learn this…
If he could cook something even better…
Then maybe—just maybe—he could buy himself more time.
Yuuta straightened his posture, forcing his mind back into focus. The fear didn't disappear, but beneath it, determination settled like a quiet, steady flame.
He had one year.
One year to stay alive.
One year to convince Erza not to kill him.
One year to earn the right to keep breathing.
His pen moved quickly across the page as he began taking notes, writing with a seriousness his classmates had rarely seen from him.
Notes:
– Use extra butter
– Whole chicken or bone-in pieces only
– Rub thoroughly, every surface
– Garlic, rosemary, thyme
– Lemon slices if possible
– Roast at 200°C until golden
– No oil in the pan
As Yuuta continued scribbling, hushed whispers drifted through the classroom like a creeping draft, brushing against his ears no matter how hard he tried to ignore them.
"Did you hear the rumor?" one of the girls whispered, leaning closer to her friend.
"Hear what?"
"That Yuuta's planning to propose to Fiona again."
A quiet snort followed. "Again? What's new? That's practically an annual event at this point."
"Seriously," another girl added with a laugh. "He proposes, she rejects him. Same story every year."
"If I were him, I would've given up long ago," someone else muttered. "He's way too stubborn."
"Honestly, I'm just glad he doesn't like me," the girl finished lightly. "That would be exhausting."
Soft laughter rippled between them.
They spoke in low voices, confident they couldn't be heard.
They were wrong.
Every word reached Yuuta clearly, each one slipping past his defenses and settling heavily in his chest. He didn't react. He didn't look up. He didn't argue or demand to know why they spoke so casually about him.
Because it was true.
He had planned to propose to Fiona again.
Just… not today.
Yuuta kept writing, his hand moving automatically as his thoughts drifted elsewhere—far from the classroom, far from the whispers. His mind was already searching for answers to a far more dangerous problem.
How to earn Erza's favor.
How to gain praise from Elena—her daughter.
How to survive.
He swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat and tightened his grip on the pen until his fingers ached.
It's fine, he told himself.
It doesn't matter.
Focus.
Live.
But just as his pen hovered above the page, ready to write the next line—
A scent reached him.
Subtle. Clean. Unmistakable.
Lily flowers.
Yuuta froze.
It was the same fragrance he had smelled that morning.
At the same time, a strange chill spread through the room. The air grew noticeably colder, as if someone had suddenly turned on all the air conditioners at once.
Classmates shifted uneasily in their seats.
"Don't you feel cold all of a sudden?" someone murmured.
"Yeah… it was normal a second ago."
Another girl tilted her head, inhaling softly. "Do you smell that? It's… nice."
"It's lilies," someone replied. "A really pleasant scent."
Yuuta's pen slipped from his fingers and clattered softly against the desk.
He knew.
He didn't need to turn around.
He didn't need to look up.
He already knew what was happening.
Then a voice pierced the air—soft, small, and painfully familiar.
"Papa…? Where are you…?"
The classroom fell into stunned silence.
Yuuta's blood ran cold.
To be continued.