Between Two Worlds

(Erza - Pov)

The Queen looked at Yuuta, her hands trembling as if the weight of what she'd just witnessed was too much for her regal frame to bear.

He lay still in the center of the circle—thin wrists still bound in faintly glowing chains, his breathing shallow, his gaze distant. There were no tears left in him. Not even a flinch. He was… quiet. Hollow.

She took one uncertain step forward, then another, until she knelt just beside him.

"You were just a child…" she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "Just a child."

Her voice cracked.

The chamber stayed quiet, as if even the walls themselves were mourning.

Yuuta didn't speak. He didn't move.

His lips were slightly parted. His body curled slightly inward, as though he had made himself small for so long, he no longer knew how to be anything else.

The Queen lifted a hand to brush away the blood-matted strands of hair clinging to his forehead. Her fingers hovered inches from his skin… but she hesitated.

How could she touch him now?

How could she reach for someone she had left in darkness?

Her hand fell into her lap instead, clenched into a trembling fist.

One of the Elders stepped forward. His voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed the storm behind it.

"He… bore all of it. Every blow. Every lash. Every hunger. And still, he protected her."

He looked to the Queen. "Your daughter."

The Queen closed her eyes. A deep, aching breath shuddered through her.

"She chose him," she said quietly. "And we… we punished him for it."

There was silence again, thicker than before.

And then—

A soft, almost inaudible sound broke the quiet.

Yuuta's voice. Barely a whisper.

"…oni-cha… always smiled. Even when it hurt…"

The Queen's eyes widened. She leaned closer, heart pounding in her chest.

Yuuta didn't speak again.

He didn't need to.

The Queen finally moved—gently reaching out and wrapping her arms around his small, frail body.

At first, he didn't respond. His limbs hung limply in her embrace, as if uncertain how to react. But slowly—almost imperceptibly—his fingers curled into the fabric of her gown.

"Don't be strong anymore," she whispered into his ear, her voice shaking. "You've already been stronger than anyone ever should."

"You can cry, my child. It's all right to cry now."

And he did.

At first, just a quiet hitch in his breath. Then a sob. And another. Until the dam broke—and everything spilled out.

All the pain.

All the fear.

All the silence.

He wept in her arms like a boy who had been holding in an ocean for years.

And the Queen—ruler of the elven lands, feared and adored—held him tightly, rocking him back and forth like a mother who had found a son too late.

(Day Later — Guest Chamber)

The room was dim, lit only by the soft flicker of enchanted lanterns. Yuuta lay on a large bed, his wrists now wrapped in clean bandages, his breathing slow, but steady.

He was asleep—but not peacefully.

Even in slumber, his brow furrowed. Occasionally, his fingers would twitch, gripping at the blankets like he was still afraid they'd be torn away.

The Queen sat beside him, watching in silence. She had not slept. Nor had she moved far since he'd been brought in.

A soft knock echoed from the door.

An Elder stepped in quietly.

"Your Majesty… it's time."

The Queen rose slowly, brushing her palm gently across Yuuta's hair one last time.

"He cannot heal here," she said. "Not in a world where every shadow reminds him of chains. He needs peace. A new beginning."

The Elder nodded.

Captain Robert clenched his fists, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior.

"But he knows where Sophia is," he insisted. "We've seen it in his memory—this is our chance to save her!"

The Queen's eyes narrowed as she turned to him, her voice steady but laced with cold logic.

"And you think a child grown in a lab understands geography?" she asked sharply.

"He doesn't even know how big this world is, Robert. He wouldn't recognize Karto Forest if he was standing in it."

She let that sink in for a moment before continuing, her tone softening just enough to show reason.

"What he showed us… those glimpses of the lab, the trees outside, the scent of soil—that's what we should rely on. Not questions he can't possibly answer."

Captain Robert hesitated, his lips parting as if to argue, but then he gave a firm nod.

"You're right." He turned to his men, already shifting into command mode.

"Prepare a search party. We're sweeping through Karto Forest. No stone unturned."

The memory didn't just shift — it breathed, like a living dream folding into another layer of time.

This time, I stood inside a high chamber carved from crystal and marble. The ceiling rose into curves like the petals of a blooming flower, glowing faintly with soft blue light. The walls were adorned with ancient runes and floating lanterns that hummed with quiet energy.

At the center stood Queen Aerisyl.

Her Blonde hair spilled down her back like liquid starlight, and her cloak whispered across the polished floor as she moved. She looked taller now, not because she stood proud — but because sorrow had stretched her spirit. Heavier than before, yet strangely more luminous.

Around her sat the ancient elders of the elven council — each one cloaked in robes that shimmered with threads of magic, their faces drawn with age, wisdom… and unease.

No one spoke at first. The air was thick. Sacred.

Then, one of the elders broke the silence — his voice rasped like parchment rubbing stone.

"He is just a child… yet the weight he carries is enough to crack the land beneath him."

Another bowed his head, barely above a whisper.

"He does not scream. He does not beg. Even in his nightmares… he simply trembles."

Queen Aerisyl stood unmoving, her hands clenched by her sides. Her eyes glistened — not with tears, but with fury she couldn't direct at anyone. Not even herself.

"Then we seek the answer that only the Spirit of the Land can give," she said softly, but firmly. "We cannot let him shatter. Not after what my daughter gave."

The elders exchanged glances.

No one objected.

No one could.

The memory shifted again — not as a jolt, but as a quiet exhale.

We were in the grove.

Far from the palace, the Sacred Grove unfolded like a dream untouched by time. The air shimmered with golden pollen drifting like snow. Beneath the canopy of the ancient rainbow-leaved tree, the world felt quiet. Still.

Its roots wound like giant veins into a pool of glowing water that pulsed in rhythm with the land's magic.

Yuuta stood near Queen Aerisyl.

Or rather — he barely stood.

His small frame looked out of place in this divine space. A thin, lifeless body in torn rags. His shoulders slumped, his eyes unfocused, as if the very act of being alive was something he had to apologize for.

He flinched when the wind brushed his cheek.

He didn't cry. He didn't ask where he was. He didn't ask why.

He simply existed.

Like something that had forgotten how to be human.

Queen Aerisyl knelt by the pond. In her hands, she held spirit stones — pale blue and softly glowing.

Her voice, when it came, cracked more than it spoke.

"Oh great spirit… hear me out we are your children."

She cast the magic stones into the pond. The water accepted them without a ripple.

And then — light.

It rose like steam, but brighter — golden, gentle, pulsing like heartbeats.

It gathered upward, forming shape.

She appeared.

The Spirit Queen — an ethereal figure of radiant light, her form almost too perfect to focus on. She had no face, and yet… somehow, I could feel her gaze touch everything at once.

All the elves bowed — even Queen Aerisyl lowered her head in reverence.

But the Spirit Queen spoke first.

"You call upon the old power… for a inhuman child."

Queen Aerisyl lifted her head, her voice steadier now.

"Not for his sake alone. My daughter gave her life… to protect him. And now, he cannot live with what he carries."

The Spirit Queen moved without walking, floating closer to Yuuta. She extended a hand — not to touch him, but to feel the shape of what lay buried inside him.

And then she paused.

Longer than I expected.

"This aura…" she murmured. "It is not of this world alone. He carries sorrow older than himself… grief that echoes like a curse, Every second he stays in this place, he's slipping further. He won't survive—he'll become something far worse… a monster we won't recognize."

The Queen swallowed. "Is there a way to save him?"

The Spirit Queen turned slowly toward her.

"Yes. But it will cost something."

"Please."

"Seal his memories. His pain. His grief. Everything that binds his soul to what he has endured. Without that… the storm inside will settle. But he cannot stay here."

Aerisyl's breath caught. "Why?"

"Because this land is woven with magic — and his aura is drawn to it. The seal will not hold. Not forever. You must send him where such magic cannot awaken."

There was a silence. One I could feel in my chest.

Then, softly, the Spirit Queen whispered the name like a lullaby:

"Earth."

The word felt foreign. Small. Like something that didn't belong in this sacred space. And yet, it hung in the air like a promise.

Aerisyl lowered her head, shoulders trembling.

"Then I will send him. If he can live without pain… if my daughter's sacrifice can mean something…"

She didn't finish.

She didn't need to.

The Spirit Queen simply nodded.

And vanished — not in a burst, but in a slow fade. Like the end of a long breath that had held too much for too long.

The pond stilled.

The grove fell silent.

And I, still nothing more than a shadow within the memory, stood watching a mother make the hardest choice of her life…

Not to keep a child.

But to let him go.

The more I look into his memories… the more questions begin to surface.

Why did Sister Mary lie?

She told me he was eight when she found him in the slave market.

But these memories—

They show Captain Robert rescuing him at the age of five.

Why the lie?

And more importantly…

Why would the Spirit Queen send him to Earth just to save a single human?

There's something we're not seeing.

Something hidden beneath all these broken fragments.

And I intend to find it.

To be continued...

(Author's Note)

Hey everyone, it's your author here.

First off—I just want to say thank you. Thank you for sticking with this story, for falling in love with Yuuta, Erza, Elena, and all the chaos and warmth that come with them.

I know many of you come here for the cozy, heartwarming family moments. And don't worry—your favorite chill family man will be back. But before we return to those scenes, I needed to take you somewhere deeper. Somewhere painful.

This arc is about Yuuta's past—the part he doesn't talk about. The part that shaped the way he loves so fiercely now. His obsession with family, with protecting and holding onto the people he loves… it didn't come from nowhere. It came from scars.

From loneliness.

From a time when he had no one.

And if I'm being honest with you guys…

This arc didn't just come from fiction. It came from something very real in my life.

Some time ago, I met a boy at an orphanage. He was gentle, quiet… always smiling like nothing was wrong. I spent time with him, made jokes, brought him snacks—just tried to make him laugh. And it worked… until one day, when he suddenly broke down.

He cried harder than I've ever seen a child cry. And through those tears, he said something that broke me:

"If I had a family… they would've come looking for me, Right big bro. They would've saved me from this loneliness."

I didn't know what to say.

He wasn't asking for toys or food.

He just wanted someone to care enough to come for him.

That moment stuck with me. It still does.

It's why Yuuta clings to family like it's everything—because to someone who's been abandoned, family is everything.

The thought that someone might come back for you… that kind of hope can save a life.

But here's the good news—

That boy? He's doing better now.

He's found people who care. He's growing, laughing, learning… living.

And I'll never forget him.

So when you read Yuuta's pain… his strength… his will to keep smiling through it all—know that part of it comes from a real story. From a real boy who inspired me to write this.

Thank you for letting me share that with you.

And thank you for walking this journey with me.

There's still so much more to come, and I hope you'll be there till the very end.

– Your author :)