Chapter 192: The Beginning of Yuuta’s Awakening
Fiona forced herself to continue, though every word felt like a stone pulled from the bottom of a deep well.
"I joined hands with that monster."
Sara’s eyes widened. For a moment, the cold composure that she wore like armor cracked, revealing something underneath, disbelief, yes, but also something else. Something that looked like betrayal. "What?"
"Yes, Chief," Fiona said, her voice steady despite the trembling in her hands.
"I joined hands with her."
Sara’s voice dropped, becoming cold and sharp.
"Are you serious, Fiona? About this?" She leaned forward, her violet eyes boring into Fiona’s, searching for any sign that this was a joke, a mistake, a misunderstanding.
Fiona did not say anything.
She kept her silence, her head bowed, her hands folded in her lap.
The weight of her decision pressed down on her shoulders like a physical thing.
Sara’s aura leaked.
The temperature in the room dropped.
The lights flickered.
"Do you know what you have done?" she said, her voice rising.
"She killed hundreds of humans, including our own force members who were helping civilians. Our people, Fiona. Our brothers and sisters. They died trying to save strangers, and you." She stopped, her jaw tightening.
"And instead of reporting to me, instead of sending the whole army after her, you decided to shield her. For what?"
Fiona looked down at her hands. They were pale, trembling, the hands of someone who had made a choice and was only now beginning to understand the consequences.
She could not tell Sara about Loid, who Submit fake report.
If she did, he would be held accountable, court-martialed, imprisoned, perhaps executed. He had lied to protect her, and she could not repay that by sacrificing him.
"I am disappointed in you, Phoenix," Sara said, her voice cold. "How can you spare a monster who killed our own members?"
She paused, letting the words sink in.
"But I am not like you," Sara continued. "I do not act on emotion." Her aura rose from her body, pressing against Fiona’s skin, making her feel small and exposed and afraid.
"You know what I mean when I say those words, do you not?"
Fiona swallowed.
Her throat was dry.
Her heart pounded against her ribs.
"Yes, Chief," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
Sara held her gaze for a long moment.
Then, slowly, her aura receded.
The temperature returned to normal.
The lights stopped flickering.
"I will overlook this mistake," Sara said,
"and I will not punish you." She paused, letting the conditional hang in the air.
"If you tell me where she is and what power she holds."
Fiona’s hands trembled.
"Yes, Chief,"
she said. "She lives."
She stopped.
The words caught in her throat. If she told Sara where Erza lived, if she revealed the apartment, the building, the neighborhood, then the Agency would swarm the place. Soldiers. Mages. Tactical teams. They would not understand what they were facing.
They would try to capture Erza, or end her, and Erza would defend herself, and the city would burn.
And the old man, Isvarn, the one with the crushing aura, the one who had nearly killed Fiona with nothing more than his presence, he would not tolerate an attack. He would not show mercy.
He would not care about collateral damage.
Fiona’s silence stretched.
Sara’s eyes narrowed.
"Fiona," she said, her voice cold,
"what is the meaning of this? Are you trying to defend her? Even at the cost of your own life?"
Fiona bowed her head, not a slight inclination, but a deep, profound bow, the kind that in Japanese culture signified the deepest form of respect, the kind that acknowledged wrongdoing and begged for forgiveness.
Her forehead nearly touched the table.
"I am sorry, Chief," she said.
"I cannot risk the city Nor risk innocent lives. Please understand me Chief."
Sara stared at her for a long moment.
The silence stretched between them, thin and fragile, ready to break.
Then Sara sighed.
The sound was long and tired, pulled from somewhere deep.
Some of the coldness left her eyes, replaced by something that might have been exhaustion.
"Phoenix," she said, "why are you going this far? Why are you risking everything, your life, your freedom, your revenge, to save that monster?" She paused, her voice dropping.
"We are at war with the demons. Every resource, every agent, every weapon is needed. If she is with the Demon King, if she joins his hand, are you prepared to take responsibility for that? Tell me, Fiona."
Fiona’s hands clenched into fists.
Her eyes blazed with something that looked like rage, not at Sara, not at Erza, but at the demons who had taken everything from her.
"Chief," she said, her voice low and intense,
"you know me. You know how much I hate demons. You know that I do not show mercy to any monster." She paused, steadying herself.
"But she is not with the Demon King. I am certain of it. Trust me, Chief, she can help us. She can become our main weapon."
Sara’s expression did not change.
"I cannot risk everything on your certainty, Fiona."
Fiona met her gaze.
Her eyes were wet, tears forming at the edges, but her voice did not waver.
"I take full responsibility, Chief. Please trust me. She has her own reasons to eliminate the demons. I am certain she has no intention of joining them. That is why I decided to take her hand."
Sara looked at her, really looked at her.
She saw the tears in Fiona’s eyes, the clench of her fists, the set of her jaw. She saw the same fire that had burned in her own eyes, decades ago, when she had decided to fight.
"Very well," Sara said.
"I will trust you, Fiona. We need powerful individuals on our team. The war is coming, and we cannot fight it alone."
Fiona’s shoulders sagged with relief. "Thank you, Chief."
"However," Sara interrupted, her voice sharp, "I want to meet her alone."
Fiona’s relief vanished. "Pardon, Chief?"
"You heard me correctly, Fiona." Sara’s violet eyes were cold, absolute. "I want to meet her alone. I will decide for myself who this monster is, whether she is worthy of my recognition."
Fiona bowed her head. "Yes, Chief. Tomorrow, I will bring her to you."
Sara nodded. Her gaze drifted to Fiona’s neck, her pale, white neck, exposed above the collar of her uniform. There was something in her eyes, something hungry, something that Fiona didn’t recognize.
"Very well," Sara said at last.
She leaned back slightly in her chair, studying Fiona with narrowed eyes.
"Then let me see for myself how powerful, and how worthy, this woman is, if she has earned the loyalty of one of my captains."
Fiona straightened her posture.
"Yes, Chief."
Sara remained silent for a few moments, her fingers tapping lightly against the armrest. Then a faint smile appeared on her face.
"And now," she said, "as an apology for hiding such important information from your superior..."
She slowly reached toward Fiona.
"Show me your neck."
Fiona froze.
She immediately understood what Sara meant.
The chief’s crimson eyes had already settled on her neck.
There was no anger in that gaze.
No punishment.
Just the familiar custom that existed between their kind.
Fiona wasn’t surprised.
As a vampire, Sara required blood, and among their organization, this had long become an accepted form of punishment and acknowledgment of authority.
Without complaint, Fiona reached up and removed her scarf.
The pale skin of her neck was revealed.
Sara’s crimson eyes lingered there for a moment before she rose from her chair and stepped forward.
Fiona remained perfectly still.
She had already made her choice.
There was no turning back now.
Sara gently pulled Fiona’s collar aside before lowering her head. A brief sting followed as her fangs pierced the skin.
Fiona winced but did not move.
The room fell silent except for the faint sound of breathing.
Sara drank only a small amount.
Enough to satisfy the tradition.
Enough to remind Fiona that actions carried consequences.
Nothing more.
After several moments, Sara pulled away.
A small drop of blood traced down Fiona’s neck before quickly stopping. The wound itself was already beginning to heal.
Sara wiped the corner of her mouth and returned to her seat.
The amusement had vanished from her expression.
Fiona adjusted her scarf once more, her hand briefly touching her neck.
Despite everything that had happened, despite the warnings, the revelations, and the fear surrounding Erza’s existence, her resolve had not changed.
She had already made her choice.
She was not turning back now.
No matter what happened next.
---
(Yuuta Apartment)
The room was silent.
Not the comfortable silence of a family eating together, not the heavy silence of tension waiting to break.
Something in between.
Something fragile.
Erza sat at the table, her fork still in her hand, her food growing cold, her eyes fixed on the man who had just knelt before her.
Yuuta was on his knees.
Not bowed in apology, not crouched in fear, kneeling, the way a servant knelt before a master, the way a subject knelt before a queen. His hands rested on his thighs, his back was straight, his head was slightly bowed. He looked like a knight pledging fealty, and the image was so wrong that Erza’s chest ached.
He was her husband.
He should stand beside her.
He should walk beside her.
He should face the world with her, shoulder to shoulder, not kneeling on the cold floor like a supplicant begging for scraps.
But he was stubborn.
He had always been stubborn.
And now his stubbornness had taken a shape she did not understand.
She could not speak. Her voice had fled, retreated somewhere deep where she could not reach it. She could only stare at him, her mortal, her husband, the father of her child, kneeling on the floor because he wanted to learn aura.
Why?
The question circled her mind like a hawk over prey.
Why was he so desperate to learn aura? What had changed? She was the most strategic dragon in Atlantis, the most intelligent, the most calculating.
She could see through lies, unravel deceptions, predict the movements of enemies who had not yet decided to strike.
But in front of love, in front of him, she was a fool.
Her heart ached.
She watched him kneel, watched him humble himself, watched him do something that should have been beneath his dignity, and she felt something crack inside her.
There were no words to describe how much he was humiliating himself.
He did not understand what he was asking.
He did not understand the weight of what he sought.
Aura was not a skill to be learned like cooking or cleaning. It was the essence of power, the breath of Soul, the force that separated the divine from the mortal.
And he wanted her to teach him.
Her voice came out cold, controlled, the voice of a queen demanding answers. "Why are you so eager to learn aura?"
Yuuta did not look up. "I have my reasons, My Queen. Please teach me."
"Pardon?" She was looking at him, really looking at him, and she saw that he was serious.
There was no joke hiding behind his eyes, no humor lurking at the corners of his mouth.
He was not teasing her, not testing her, not playing some game that she did not understand.
He was completely, utterly serious.
She could not remember the last time she had seen him like this.
The last time there had been no warmth in his gaze, no softness in his expression, no hint of the gentle man who cooked breakfast and made Elena laugh.
He looked like a different person, harder, colder, more determined.
It was the same way parents felt when they saw their children become mature. A pang of pride mixed with sorrow, a recognition that something had changed and could never be changed back. But this was worse.
Because she did not know what had pushed him to this. She did not know what had broken inside him to make him kneel.
"I know you, mortal," she said, her voice cold. "There is no way you would ask me to teach you aura out of nowhere. You are hiding something from me. Tell me why you want this. Tell me now."
Her aura leaked, not the crushing weight she used to intimidate enemies, but something gentler. It pressed against him, not to harm, not to hurt, but to feel.
She wanted to sense his heartbeat, his breathing, the truth beneath his words.
Yuuta did not flinch. "I want to learn to protect myself."
"Lie." The word came out sharp, absolute. "You are lying. I know you, mortal. That reason is completely useless. You have never cared about protecting yourself. You have always cared about protecting others." She paused, her voice dropping.
"Tell me the truth."
Yuuta’s jaw tightened.
His hands curled into fists on his thighs. "Please trust me, Erza. I have my reasons."
Erza did not show any concern.
Her face remained cold, her posture rigid, her aura pressing gently against him. But she was careful, she made sure the pressure did not harm his organs, did not damage his muscles, did not leave any mark that would not heal.
She was not cruel.
She could not be cruel to him, no matter how frustrated she felt.
Yuuta looked up at her.
His red eyes met her violet ones, and she saw something there that made her pause. Frustration, yes. Desperation, yes. But beneath that, something else. Something that looked like fear.
"Fine," he said, his voice low. "I want to learn aura so I can protect you."
The silence was immediate.
Her aura vanished, not faded, not withdrawn, but vanished, as if it had never existed. The air in the room returned to normal. The pressure that had been pressing against Yuuta’s skin disappeared, and he was left kneeling on the floor, staring up at her, waiting.
Erza’s face turned red.
Not the soft pink of embarrassment, but a deep, burning crimson that spread from her cheeks to her ears to her neck. Steam might as well have been rising from her head. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"What?" The word came out trembling, barely audible, stripped of all her cold authority.
Yuuta did not look away. His eyes were serious, dead serious, and there was no trace of a joke in his expression.
He was not teasing her.
He was not trying to make her blush or fluster her or catch her off guard. He meant it.
Every word.
"I want to learn aura," Yuuta said, his voice firm despite the nervousness twisting in his chest. "So I can protect you. I will learn it, no matter what."
He clenched his fists and met her gaze without looking away.
"I’ll prove it to you. Just believe in me."
Erza fell silent.
The determination in his voice struck something deep within her. For a brief moment, the apartment around her seemed to fade away as an old memory surfaced from the depths of her mind. It was a memory she had not touched in years, one she had buried beneath countless battles, responsibilities, and passing centuries.
A voice echoed through that distant memory.
"Believe me, Mother."
The words were different, yet the feeling behind them was exactly the same.
Her Voliet eyes remained fixed on Yuuta as she tried to understand why her chest suddenly felt so heavy. The more she looked at him, the more he reminded her of someone she had almost forgotten. It wasn’t his appearance, nor was it his human nature. It was the stubbornness in his eyes, the way he spoke with absolute conviction even when he stood before an impossible wall.
Long ago, there had been someone else who looked at her in the same way.
Someone who refused to accept limitations.
Someone who demanded to be believed in.
For years, that memory had faded into the background of her life, becoming little more than a distant shadow. Yet now, standing in front of this ordinary human, she found herself remembering it with startling clarity.
The words lingered between them, filling the room with a strange silence. Neither of them moved. Neither of them looked away.
Yuuta waited for her answer, his heart pounding with anticipation, while Erza struggled to separate the man standing before her from the ghost of a memory that refused to remain buried.
Several seconds passed before either of them realized how long they had been staring at one another.
And even then, neither of them knew what to say next.
To be continued.
