Professor Melory finally stepped forward, unable to tolerate the chaos any longer. His patience had clearly worn thin, and the veins near his temple pulsed faintly beneath his glasses.
"Yuuta," he said sternly, "if you are orchestrating this absurd prank to escape my lecture, you will stop it immediately."
Yuuta shook his head quickly, panic flickering across his face.
"It's not a prank, Professor. I promise. I wouldn't do something like this."
The professor's expression hardened.
"Then explain it to me," he demanded. "How is it that a second-year student in my class is suddenly married and has a child? Do you take me for a fool? You have the audacity to stage this during my lecture? There will be consequences."
The accusation hung in the air.
Erza's expression changed.
It was subtle at first—a tightening around her eyes, a slight stillness in her posture. Then her gaze shifted toward the professor.
Cold.
Merciless.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop without warning.
How dare this human raise his voice at her husband?
In her presence?
Her fingers lifted slowly.
Not dramatically.
Not with flair.
Just enough.
The air around her hand shimmered faintly, thin frost forming at her fingertips.
Several students felt their breath hitch.
Yuuta felt it too.
The intent.
Sharp.
Decisive.
Fatal.
Before Erza could complete the motion, he reached up and grabbed her wrist.
"My wife," he said quickly, forcing warmth into his voice, "did you miss me that much while I was gone?"
The shift was immediate.
Erza froze.
Her raised hand trembled—not with power this time, but with something unfamiliar.
Color bloomed across her pale cheeks.
A deep, visible red.
She stared at him as though he had spoken a forbidden spell.
"I—"
The word caught in her throat.
Her composure fractured for a heartbeat.
She pulled her hand back slightly, eyes flickering away.
"W-What?" she said, her voice no longer perfectly steady. "W-What are you implying?"
Her cheeks flushed even deeper, almost the color of a ripe apple.
The classroom collectively leaned forward.
The girls were the first to react.
"He's so bold…"
"They're definitely married…"
"I didn't know Yuuta could talk like that…"
"He so Handsome and Charming."
There was genuine admiration in their voices now.
Yuuta, the class clown, suddenly looked different.
Confident.
Fearless.
Unexpectedly charming.
The boys, however, looked as though they were slowly combusting.
Jealousy burned openly across their faces. Yuuta—of all people—was standing beside a woman who looked like royalty and speaking to her so casually.
Erza noticed.
Of course she noticed.
The way several girls looked at him now.
Curious.
Interested.
Intrigued.
Something unpleasant tightened in her chest.
An unfamiliar sting.
Insecurity.
She cleared her throat sharply and straightened, forcing her emotions back under control. The flush on her cheeks faded, replaced by imperial composure.
Her voice, when she spoke again, was ice.
"You Nasty humans."
Her gaze swept across the female students.
"If any of you attempt to approach my human with impure intentions, I will personally end your lives. I would prefer not to stain my hands with your filthy blood."
The girls stiffened instantly.
No one laughed.
No one whispered.
They could feel it.
She was not exaggerating.
Erza then turned her gaze toward the male students.
"And if any of you dare to harm him while I still breathe in this world," she continued calmly, "I will freeze you where you stand and shatter not only you—but everything you hold dear."
The air grew heavy.
Oppressive.
Hard to breathe.
"I alone may decide his fate. Any other hand that reaches for him challenges my authority."
Her chin lifted slightly.
"I am the Queen of Atlantis. The ruler of the Nova World. Descendant of Seraphina. Royal blood chosen by the divine."
The pressure intensified.
Several students felt their knees weaken.
The classroom fell into absolute silence.
It felt less like a warning—
And more like standing in front of a loaded weapon with the safety already off.
Erza's declaration still lingered in the air like frost refusing to melt.
The classroom had not yet recovered from the suffocating pressure of her presence when she slowly turned toward Yuuta again. This time, there was no embarrassment. No hesitation. Only warning.
She stepped closer—close enough that only he could clearly see the seriousness in her eyes.
"You mortal."
Her voice was low.
Controlled.
"If you dare to run away from me again without a word… I will kill you. Even if I have promised to spare your life for one year."
The reminder landed heavily between them.
"Do not test my patience."
There was no dramatic gesture this time. No magic in the air. Just certainty.
Then she turned.
The white fabric of her dress shifted softly as she walked toward the door, each step measured, dignified, unquestionable. The path cleared instinctively before her. No one dared block it.
The door slid open.
She stepped into the hallway.
Only when she disappeared from the room did Yuuta finally release the breath he had been holding.
His shoulders sagged.
"What is wrong with her all of a sudden…?" he muttered under his breath.
Elena, still standing beside him, giggled softly.
"Papa, Mama is angry because you left in a hurry without saying goodbye."
Yuuta blinked.
"What do you mean goodbye? Does she seriously need a goodbye from me?"
Elena nodded earnestly.
"Papa… Mama always acts cold. But she doesn't like being ignored. When Papa left without saying anything, she was very upset."
Yuuta paused.
The memory replayed in his head—him rushing off that morning, too distracted, too overwhelmed, not even glancing back.
"Oh…" he murmured. "I see. So that's what this is."
For a being who crossed galaxies.
For a queen who threatened worlds.
She was angry about not getting a goodbye.
Yuuta ran a hand through his hair and suddenly bolted toward the hallway.
He leaned out the door and shouted down the corridor.
"Erza! Wait for me at home! I'll be back soon—and I'll take care of you properly!"
The words echoed down the hall.
Several students near the doorway nearly choked.
Take care of you properly?
In the corridor, Erza slowed.
She did not turn around.
She did not acknowledge him outwardly.
But the words struck somewhere deep—somewhere she had not allowed herself to feel in decades.
It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to her like that.
Not with fear.
Not with reverence.
But with simple familiarity.
Her lips curved slightly.
Just slightly.
Not enough to forgive him.
But enough to remember.
Beside her, Elena smiled brightly and hurried to catch up, slipping her small hand into her mother's.
"Mama is happy," she whispered teasingly.
Erza said nothing.
She simply continued walking, her steps steady once more.
Back inside the classroom, Yuuta stood quietly at the doorway, watching their figures grow smaller down the corridor.
For several long seconds after Erza disappeared down the hallway, the classroom remained frozen.
It was as if the air itself had been held hostage—and only now had it been released.
Then, all at once, everyone inhaled.
Chairs creaked.
Someone coughed.
A pen clattered to the floor.
Even Professor Melory had to steady himself against his desk, adjusting his glasses with a hand that was not entirely steady. Whatever that presence had been, it was far beyond ordinary.
The silence shattered.
Voices erupted across the room.
Yuuta was still standing in the doorway, staring down the corridor where Erza and Elena had vanished. He didn't need to turn around to know what was coming.
The autopsy of his social life had already begun.
From the girls' side of the classroom came the first wave.
"I can't believe Yuuta is actually married."
"And did you see her? She was unbelievably beautiful."
"Beautiful? She was terrifying."
A different voice chimed in, half whispering, half thrilled.
"She's totally the cold, possessive type. The scary-but-in-love kind."
Another girl leaned forward.
"Wait… then what about Fiona?"
That name shifted the tone slightly.
"I know, right? He was always joking around with her."
"With a wife like that? Isn't that basically cheating?"
"I kind of feel bad for Fiona…"
Across the room, Fiona sat stiffly in her seat, still pale. She hadn't spoken. She hadn't moved much either. Her mind was clearly trying to process what had just happened—and more importantly, what it meant.
Meanwhile, the boys' section had descended into its own crisis.
"Our hero has fallen…"
"He was married this whole time?"
"And he acted single on Valentine's Day!"
"I gave that man chocolate out of solidarity!"
"That's betrayal."
One of them dramatically placed a hand over his chest.
"This sin cannot be forgiven. Not even by divine mercy."
Another nodded solemnly.
"He has deceived us all."
Yuuta closed his eyes briefly.
This is worse than being hunted across galaxies.
He turned around slowly to face the class.
Every single eye locked onto him.
Not as background noise.
Not as comic relief.
But as the center of attention.
Professor Melory cleared his throat, attempting to regain authority.
"Yuuta," he said carefully, "you will remain after class."
The tone wasn't angry anymore.
It was cautious.
Yuuta forced a weak smile.
"Yes, Professor."
Behind him, the hallway was quiet.
Ahead of him, the classroom buzzed like a disturbed hive.
In a single afternoon, he had gone from harmless idiot—
To married man.
To traitor.
To legend.
And judging by the looks on his classmates' faces—
The interrogation was only beginning.
After the final bell rang and the classroom emptied of its noise and gossip, Yuuta remained seated.
The late afternoon light stretched through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the desks. The air felt calmer now—normal again. No frost. No pressure. Just the quiet hum of a college building settling down.
At the front bench, Professor Melory sat facing him.
Gone was the dramatic authority from earlier. In its place was a man who looked unusually tired.
Professor Melory had taught at John Bosco Culinary College for over ten years. He was known across the country as a gifted chef—award-winning, precise, disciplined. Students admired his skill. Restaurants sought his opinion.
Yet for all his mastery in the kitchen, there was one area of life where he consistently failed.
Conversation with women.
He folded his hands together and leaned forward.
"Yuuta," he said evenly, "I would like a clear explanation. What exactly was that?"
Yuuta scratched the back of his head.
He genuinely didn't know where to begin.
"Well…" he started hesitantly. "Would you believe me if I said I only found out today that I'm apparently married?"
Professor Melory stared at him.
Then he slammed his hand lightly on the desk.
"You expect me to believe that?" he demanded. "A woman that beautiful walks into my classroom—with a child—and declares in front of everyone that you belong to her?"
His voice cracked slightly.
"And you 'just found out'?"
Yuuta flinched.
Suddenly, the professor's stern expression collapsed into something far more dramatic.
"I don't understand…" Melory muttered, rubbing his eyes. "I have worked for years. I have awards. I am respected. I can cook any cuisine flawlessly."
He looked up at Yuuta, genuinely distressed.
"And yet… I am alone."
Yuuta blinked.
"Professor… are you okay?"
"What is wrong with me?" Melory continued, his voice rising with emotion. "Do I not look decent? Do I not have talent? Every time I confess, I am rejected."
He gestured helplessly.
"And you—of all people—have a wife who looks like she stepped out of mythology."
Yuuta hesitated, then sighed.
"Professor… I understand how you feel."
Melory squinted at him.
"You do?"
"I've been rejected plenty of times too," Yuuta said honestly. "You remember how many times I confessed to Fiona, right?"
The professor's expression shifted slightly.
"…That is true."
"So you see?" Yuuta continued. "I wasn't exactly living a romantic success story. I truly didn't know about this marriage situation until today."
Melory studied him carefully.
"You are still insisting on that story?"
"I am," Yuuta said weakly. "Even I don't understand it."
The professor leaned back in his chair and exhaled heavily.
"I don't know whether to be concerned for you… or jealous."
A quiet pause settled between them.
Finally, Melory's tone turned serious again.
"Whatever strange situation you are involved in," he said firmly, "you must take responsibility for it. Marriage is not a joke. A child is not a joke. If that is truly your family… then you must act like it."
Yuuta lowered his eyes.
"I know," he admitted. "It's my fault things turned out like this."
Melory stood up slowly.
For a moment, he looked less like a professor and more like a man defeated by comparison.
Without another word, he gathered his papers and walked toward the door.
As he stepped into the hallway, Yuuta could hear him muttering quietly.
"My own student… married before me…"
The door closed.
Yuuta remained seated in the empty classroom, staring at the fading sunlight.
He had just been threatened by an intergalactic queen.
Declared husband in front of his entire class.
And now lectured about responsibility by a heartbroken culinary genius.
He rubbed his face with both hands.
"Poor guy…" he murmured.
Though he wasn't entirely sure whether he meant the professor—
Or himself.
Yuuta thought the worst of the day was finally over.
The classroom was empty. The sun was lowering beyond the windows. The building had grown quiet enough that he could hear the faint hum of electricity in the ceiling.
He exhaled slowly.
Maybe… I survived.
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then the entire room went dark.
Yuuta stiffened in his seat.
"Huh?"
His heart skipped.
Don't tell me she came back—
The lights snapped on again.
Yuuta blinked.
And immediately wished they hadn't.
The classroom was no longer empty.
Every seat was filled.
Girls.
Rows and rows of girls.
At least forty of them.
All wearing glasses.
All holding notebooks
Several had pens already positioned and ready.
Some even had clipboards tied with neat ribbon cords as if attending a formal interview session.
Yuuta stared.
"…What?"
A girl in the front row adjusted her glasses with sharp precision.
Another flipped open her notebook.
Somewhere in the back, someone whispered, "Ready."
Yuuta's brain struggled to process the scene.
"When did you all get here…?" he asked weakly.
No one answered.
The only sound was the synchronized flip of pages turning to a fresh sheet.
From the center aisle, a familiar figure stepped forward.
Fiona.
She walked with slow composure, far different from the pale, shaken girl from earlier. Her expression was calm—too calm. Analytical. Focused.
She stopped a few steps in front of him and adjusted the glasses resting on her nose.
She did not smile.