Yuuta stood quietly for a while, watching Erza watch television.
The glow from the screen reflected in her crimson eyes as scenes of human history flickered across the room—wars, inventions, revolutions. She looked almost… invested. Calm. Focused.
He didn't understand it.
Why would a dragon queen care about documentaries narrated by humans?
Across the room, Elena was busy rearranging cushions and humming to herself, occasionally glancing between her parents as if monitoring the emotional weather.
Then something clicked in Yuuta's mind.
He straightened slightly.
"Wait a second… Erza."
This time, she actually looked at him.
"What is it now?" she asked, mildly annoyed but no longer hostile.
He frowned, genuinely puzzled.
"How are you using human technology without getting shocked?"
She blinked.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean…" he gestured toward the television, the remote in her hand. "Don't you find it strange? This machine runs without magic. No runes. No mana flow. Just… electricity. And you're using it like you've lived here your whole life."
Erza studied him for a long moment.
Then—slowly—a smile curved at the corner of her lips.
Not mocking.
Proud.
"Do you forget who we are?" she asked.
"Dragon," Yuuta answered cautiously.
"As I expected," she replied, leaning back. "You truly know nothing about dragons. Not even an inch."
Her tone carried a faint superiority—but it wasn't cruel this time. It was almost educational.
"We are born with a dominant nature," she continued. "Adaptation is instinct to us. When environments change, we change faster. That is how dragons survive eras."
Yuuta tilted his head.
"So… you just analyze something and then use it?"
"Yes," she said simply. "I observed how this device works. I listened to the patterns of sound. I studied the structure. I adapted. In my world, civilizations rise and fall. We survive because we understand before others do."
Yuuta stared at her.
That sounded absurd.
And terrifying.
"So you're telling me," he said slowly, "you can just look at something… and master it?"
She crossed her arms confidently.
"I could study your entire human civilization within a year," she said calmly. "And master it."
Yuuta's brain short-circuited for a second.
That's not adaptation.
That's cheating.
It felt like watching artificial intelligence evolve in real time—observe, process, dominate. That was Erza. A being designed to conquer change itself.
His eyes widened.
"Wait. Does that mean you can read my cooking operation manual? The big one? The really thick book with all the complicated techniques and chemical explanations?"
Erza glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
"Of course."
"You mean you can understand it?"
"If I choose to."
Yuuta's face lit up like a child discovering fireworks for the first time.
"That's incredible," he said honestly. "Do you know how long it took me to understand half of that book? Months."
She gave him a look that hovered between superiority and amusement.
""That," she said calmly, lifting her chin with quiet, unmistakable pride, "is the difference between mortal effort and draconic superiority."
Yuuta stared at her for a long moment, letting the weight of her words settle between them. There was no hesitation in her voice, no trace of doubt in her posture. She looked every bit the ancient, confident dragon she claimed to be, radiating that effortless sense of dominance that always managed to irritate him just a little more than it should have.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully before speaking again.
"Wait. If you're superior in everything… then how come you don't know how to cook?"
The shift was immediate, though subtle enough that most people might have missed it. Erza's shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly, and her gaze drifted away from his as if something far more interesting had suddenly appeared on the opposite wall.
"Well… it's just… I…"
She faltered, her usual smooth composure slipping through her fingers.
Before the silence could grow too heavy, Elena looked up from the floor where she had been playing, her bright eyes filled with innocent enthusiasm.
"Papa! Mama knows recipes!"
Erza straightened slightly, grateful for the rescue.
"Yes, I—"
"But she's terrible at cooking."
The statement was delivered with such cheerful honesty that it cut far deeper than any accusation.
Erza's head turned sharply toward her daughter.
"Elena, what did you just say?"
Yuuta felt something warm bloom in his chest. It was petty, it was childish, and he embraced it completely.
"So the mighty ruler who can conquer worlds," he said with dramatic solemnity, "can't even conquer a frying pan? That's tragic."
Erza rose halfway from her seat, eyes flashing.
"You! It's not that I don't know how to cook," she insisted. "I can cook using magic. Perfectly. The problem is your human tools. The flames are unstable, the heat distribution is inconsistent, and everything becomes unnecessarily messy. I do not like mess."
Yuuta nodded slowly as though absorbing a profound lecture.
"Oh, I see. So it's not inability… it's refinement."
He could feel the smallest crack forming in her argument, and he carefully stepped closer to it. Turning to Elena, he softened his expression.
"Are you hungry?"
Elena nodded immediately.
"I am, Papa. What are we eating today?"
Yuuta pretended to think deeply before answering.
"How about steak?"
Elena gasped, her excitement so pure it nearly made him laugh.
"Steak? Really? Steak is here on Earth too?"
He blinked at her reaction.
"Wait, you have steak on your planet?"
"Of course, Papa. It's so delicious and rubbery. Mama's steak was super good."
Yuuta's smile froze in place.
"Mama's steak?"
Elena nodded happily.
"Yes. Mama made me steak when I was alone. It was so yummy."
Yuuta slowly turned toward Erza.
"I thought you said you couldn't cook."
Elena answered before her mother could.
"Mama uses magic to make steak. It's very delicious, Papa."
Yuuta's hand tightened slightly at his side. He kept his face calm, but inside, something deeply personal had just been challenged. Magic steak. Rubbery steak. His child had grown accustomed to mana-blasted meat and called it delicious.
He inhaled slowly, steadying himself.
"Alright," he said at last, determination settling into his voice. "Let me make steak for you. A real steak. Properly cooked. Better than your Mama's."
Erza's eyes narrowed just a fraction, a spark of competitive curiosity flickering within them.
"Oh? You sound confident."
Elena raised both hands excitedly.
"Yes! Elena wants to taste! Elena wants to taste!"
Yuuta rolled up his sleeves with deliberate calm, walking toward the kitchen as though stepping onto a battlefield. This was no longer just dinner. This was proof that human effort, patience, and skill could rival even draconic magic.
Behind him, Erza leaned back against the sofa, watching carefully. She said nothing more, but her gaze followed his every movement, sharp and evaluating, as though this simple meal had quietly become a matter of pride.
Yuuta stepped into the kitchen and stopped in the center of it, standing perfectly still as if he had entered sacred ground. The light above the counter hummed faintly, and the quiet felt different from the living room. This was his territory now. He rested both hands on the counter and stared at the cutting board for a long moment, mentally flipping through memories of recipes he had learned, videos he had watched, and advice he had once dismissed as unnecessary.
He inhaled slowly and nodded to himself.
He reached for the knife, testing its weight in his palm, and a determined smirk tugged at his lips.
"Let's show this lizard queen what cooking really means."
The words were quiet, but filled with resolve.
He opened the refrigerator and took out two thick cuts of beef, deep red and beautifully marbled. He placed them on the counter and let them sit for a few minutes so the chill would leave the meat. He remembered reading somewhere that cold steak in a hot pan was a mistake only amateurs made. Today, he refused to be an amateur.
Once ready, he patted the steaks dry carefully with paper towels. Moisture was the enemy of a good sear, and he wanted that golden crust, not some pale, steamed disappointment. He sprinkled salt generously on both sides, then added freshly ground black pepper, pressing it gently into the surface with his fingers so it would cling properly.
He set a heavy pan on the stove and turned the heat up high. He didn't rush it. He waited. When he hovered his hand over the pan, he could feel the heat radiating upward in steady waves. Only then did he add a small amount of oil, just enough to coat the bottom.
The moment the steaks touched the surface, the kitchen filled with a sharp, satisfying sizzle. Yuuta felt a surge of confidence. That sound was proof. That sound meant control.
He didn't move them. He didn't poke or press. He let them sear undisturbed, allowing the crust to form properly. After a few minutes, he flipped them carefully. The surface was beautifully browned, rich and caramelized. He tried not to grin too widely.
Lowering the heat slightly, he added a knob of butter to the pan along with a crushed clove of garlic. As the butter melted and foamed, he tilted the pan and used a spoon to baste the steaks repeatedly, letting the hot butter wash over the top. The aroma deepened, rich and savory, filling the entire kitchen.
He cooked them until they reached a tender medium, firm but still slightly yielding to the touch. Not rubbery. Never rubbery.
Once done, he transferred the steaks to a plate and let them rest. That part required patience, but he forced himself to wait. Resting meant the juices would stay inside the meat instead of spilling out the moment it was cut.
Only after several long minutes did he finally slice into one. The center was warm pink, glistening but not bleeding, perfectly even from edge to edge.
Yuuta allowed himself a quiet nod of approval.
Behind him, he could already sense Erza's presence lingering at the edge of the kitchen doorway, silent and watching. The air carried the scent of butter and seared beef all the way into the living room.
This was no magic. No unstable flames. No mana shortcuts.
Just heat, timing, and care.
He placed the finished steak neatly onto a plate and turned slightly, a confident glint in his eyes. The showdown had officially begun.
The aroma drifted slowly from the kitchen, rich and buttery, wrapping around the entire living room like an invisible hand. It carried warmth with it, teasing and persistent, slipping into every corner of the small apartment.
Erza sat stiffly on the sofa, eyes fixed on the television. A documentary about human history played across the screen, and she nodded occasionally as if absorbing valuable knowledge about mortal civilization. Her posture was elegant, composed, every inch the dignified dragon queen observing an inferior world.
But the scent betrayed her.
Her fingers tightened slightly on the remote. Her gaze flickered—not toward the screen, but toward the kitchen entrance.
The sizzling had stopped, replaced by the softer clink of plates and cutlery. The fragrance deepened as melted butter and seared beef filled the air.
She swallowed.
Her pride, however, stood taller than her hunger. A ruler did not wander toward food like a commoner drawn by smell. A queen waited.
Elena, on the other hand, had inherited none of that restraint.
The moment the scent reached its peak, she sprang from the floor and rushed toward the kitchen, her small footsteps pattering against the wood.
"Papa! Is it ready? Is it ready yet? Elena is hungry!"
Yuuta turned just as she entered, carefully lifting the plate with both hands. The steak rested at the center, surrounded by simple sides—lightly sautéed vegetables and a small portion of rice. Nothing extravagant, but thoughtfully prepared.
He carried it to the dining area, which was nothing more than a small table tucked into the corner of the living room. Since his apartment was a modest one-bedroom, he had long ago turned that corner into a makeshift dining space. A simple table. Cushions instead of chairs. It had always been enough for one person.
Until now.
For the first time, three plates rested there.
Elena climbed onto a cushion and stared at the food with shining eyes. She sat unusually still, hands folded on her lap as if any sudden movement might cause the steak to vanish.
Erza remained on the sofa.
She had not moved.
Yuuta sat down across from Elena and waited, glancing briefly toward the sofa. He assumed Erza would join them once she felt like it. Seconds passed. Then more.
She did not move.
Elena leaned closer to him and whispered softly, "Papa… Mama will not come until you invite her."
Yuuta blinked.
And then it all made sense.
A slow smile crept onto his face, not gentle this time, not respectful. It was the smile of a man who had just discovered a weakness in an ancient dragon's armor.
He turned back toward the table casually and sat down beside Elena.
"Well," he said lightly, "since we have extra steak… let's eat, Elena."
Elena raised both hands happily.
"Yah! Yah! Let's eat!"
On the sofa, Erza's head turned sharply toward them. She had expected a formal invitation. At the very least, a reluctant acknowledgment. Instead, he had simply… begun.
Yuuta picked up his knife and fork, cut a small piece of steak, and lifted it slowly to his mouth. He made sure his voice carried clearly across the room.
"Mmm. This steak is so juicy and tender. Oh my… the aroma alone is divine."
He closed his eyes dramatically and inhaled.
"How has heaven blessed these hands to create such a heavenly dish?"
Erza's fingers tightened against the sofa cushion. She knew exactly what he was doing. The mortal was provoking her on purpose.
Yuuta chewed thoughtfully, then added with exaggerated emotion, "Ah… I might actually die from happiness. If the gods wish to take me now after tasting this perfection, I shall go without regret."
Elena burst into giggles, trying to imitate him.
"Oh heavenly dish!" she declared, copying his tone with childish enthusiasm.
A faint twitch appeared at Erza's temple.
Her pride battled fiercely with her hunger.
But pride could not compete with the scent of butter and perfectly seared meat.
At last, she rose from the sofa with controlled dignity and walked toward the table, each step measured. Her face was slightly red, though whether from anger or anticipation was unclear. She sat down quietly without asking.
Yuuta glanced at her and smiled innocently.
"Oh? My queen chooses to sit with this mortal who so carelessly forgot to invite her?"
Erza shot him a sharp glare.
"You are my servant," she said coldly. "I do not require permission to do as I please."
With deliberate elegance, she picked up her fork and knife and cut into the steak.
The blade slid through effortlessly.
That alone surprised her.
She lifted a piece to her mouth and took a bite.
And then—
Everything stopped.
The outside held a delicate crust, rich and savory. The inside was tender, warm, and impossibly juicy. Butter and garlic lingered softly without overwhelming the natural flavor of the meat. Each chew released more depth, more balance, more intention.
This was not rubbery.
This was not mana-blasted.
This was… crafted.
Her eyes widened slightly despite her attempt to remain composed. For the first time since arriving in this world, Erza Vely Dragomir felt something she had not anticipated.
Shock.
The flavors unfolded layer by layer, and she could feel the difference between magic and skill. One was power forced upon ingredients. The other was understanding.
She swallowed slowly.
"…It's so delicious."
The words escaped before she could stop them.
She swallowed slowly.
"…It's so delicious."
The words slipped from her lips before her pride could catch them and drag them back.
Yuuta's smile widened—not the teasing grin from before, but something softer, relieved. At that moment, he felt a quiet surge of confidence bloom inside him. If he could win against a dragon queen with nothing but a frying pan and patience, then surviving one year as her so-called personal chef might not be impossible after all.
So there is hope, he thought. I might actually survive this contract.
Erza noticed that look immediately. The faint spark of optimism in his eyes irritated her more than his earlier teasing. She straightened her posture at once, regaining her regal composure.
"Do not misunderstand, mortal," she said coldly. "I will still kill you after one year. Remember that."
Yuuta clicked his tongue softly.
"Fine," he replied, shrugging as he cut another piece of steak. "I wasn't expecting mercy from the start. I'm just making Elena happy."
He didn't look at her when he said it. His tone was casual, almost dismissive, as if her threat had never truly frightened him.
Elena giggled.
"Papa, eating together like this feels so good, right?"
Yuuta glanced at her and smiled warmly.
"Of course. It feels good."
There was no exaggeration in his voice this time. Just quiet honesty.
Erza watched them both in silence. The small dining corner. The simple table. The way Elena leaned closer to Yuuta as she ate. The way he carefully cut her steak into smaller pieces without being asked.
Something stirred unexpectedly inside her chest.
A warmth.
It wasn't hunger.
It wasn't pride.
It wasn't anger.
Her hand slowly rose to rest against her chest, fingers pressing lightly against the unfamiliar sensation.
"What is this feeling…" she murmured under her breath. "Why does it appear whenever I am with this idiot human?"
She should have dismissed it. Dragons did not waver over such trivial things. Dragons conquered. They ruled. They did not sit at small mortal tables and feel… this.
Yet the warmth lingered, steady and quiet.
Across from her, Yuuta laughed softly at something Elena said, and the sound echoed through the apartment—not grand, not powerful, but alive.
Erza lowered her gaze to her plate, pretending to focus on the steak.
The warmth only grew.
To be continued.