I’m Not Your Husband, You Evil Dragon!

The Gods' Chamber.

A realm suspended in the void, untouched by stars, where light seemed to exist only because the gods willed it. The walls were forged from divine gold, their glow so pure it could blind a mortal—yet here, the shine was not beauty, but authority.

This was not a place for worship.

It was a court.

And in this court, only law mattered.

Every seat of the round table was filled. Some gods glowed like miniature suns, others flickered like dreams, and a few were shrouded in shapes that bent the eye. These were not the fabled True Gods, but each carried power enough to shatter worlds.

No one spoke.

Finally, the God of Souls leaned forward. His voice was low, deliberate—like a priest reading a death sentence.

"Why are we gathered?"

"I do not know," replied the God of Destruction, resting his chin on his hand. "But I received a direct summons from Geta."

The Goddess of Beauty brushed silver hair from her face. "Then where is she? Geta doesn't keep people waiting."

No one answered.

Instead, the gold began to dim.

The air—if it could be called air—shifted. A cold pressure coiled around the chamber, not lowering the temperature but making every immortal spine stiffen.

She had arrived.

A figure stepped from the darkness beyond the chamber's edge, her heels clicking softly against the divine floor. She wore a gown of black silk embroidered with specks of light, each stitch a galaxy. From her temples curved two horns—smooth, elegant, and dark as obsidian.

No one dared to greet her.

Geta. The Goddess of Contracts.

Once a demon, now a god who had fought, clawed, and bargained her way into the pantheon.

She took her seat without looking at anyone, setting a data tablet on the table. With a flick of her fingers, it floated upward, spinning once before blooming into a blue hologram that hung in the air.

When she spoke, her voice was calm—but there was steel beneath it.

"One of my contracts has been transferred."

The reaction was instant.

"Transferred? While the host lives?"

"That's—"

"Impossible."

Her eyes swept over them, silencing the whispers.

"Forcefully transferred." She clarify.

That killed even the murmurs.

"I did not authorize it. The host was alive but later he died . The transfer was… unnatural. Unauthorized. Cruel."

The God of Souls' expression darkened. "Name the host."

"Aaron Muru."

For a long moment, no one moved.

The God of Souls closed his glowing eyes and lifted one hand. The chamber shimmered; time slowed. His power reached beyond the meeting hall, descending into the Sleeping Realm where the dead waited for judgment.

When he finally spoke again, his tone was grim.

"Aaron's soul is in the Sleeping Realm. Awaiting trial. But…" He hesitated. "…the contract mark is broken. And I can see Fragments of broken contract. As if it were torn apart."

Geta's gaze sharpened. "So it is confirmed."

The God of All-Knowing leaned back, frowning.

"She speaks truth. I cannot see the current host. Not hidden—erased. Someone has masked him from me entirely."

The God of Death crossed his arms. "We cannot even question that pitful soul. Because if we Interfering with judgment without a True God's permission would brand us unholy."

Loki (God of mischief). leaned closer to the table, his gloved fingers gently tapping against the golden surface—tap, tap, tap—like a ticking clock no one wanted to hear.

His smile was not warm. It was the kind that hinted at secrets and chaos, twisted into something charmingly cruel.

He whispered, almost playfully.

"Then it is confirmed."

Loki chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat as the tension rippled across the council like storm clouds gathering over a quiet sea.

"Funny," he said, twirling a strand of his own raven-black hair, "I remember when I was the only one accused of breaking things that shouldn't be broken."

No one answered him.

The Goddess of Beauty narrowed her eyes. The God of Soul remained still, watching the void as if listening for the footsteps of something far more ancient than any of them.

But Loki's grin only widened.

He whispered again, this time to himself—

"Whoever stole that contract... either has a death wish… or they're not afraid of gods anymore."

And that—that—was the most terrifying thought of all.

The chamber fell still.

Even gods, in their endless might, held their breath.

Because this wasn't just about one mortal anymore. It wasn't about Aaron Muru soul. It was about the foundation—the law beneath laws. The one thing even gods bowed to.

A contract, divine and eternal, had been shattered.

While the host still breathed.

The rules of creation had been twisted like thread in a child's hand. And whoever did it… knew what they were doing.

Someone was playing gods.

Geta rose from her chair.

The stars in her gown dimmed until only black remained.

"Geta will is the will of the Contract. And someone broke it."

Her voice grew colder than the void itself.

"Whoever you are… I will find you."

Her final words were not a threat.

They were a promise.

Not a threat.

A declaration.

_____________

Earth — Lebuis Country | Morning, 7:30

(Grandpa's POV)

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

Since returning from the academy, Erza hadn't spoken a single word.

She had walked in carrying Yuuta as though he were a fragile thing carved from glass, every step measured, her eyes never lifting from his face. His body was limp but serene, deep in some unreachable sleep.

She hadn't explained. She hadn't even looked my way.

She just… sat down.

Her arms stayed locked around him, not in the guarded stance of a warrior protecting a comrade, but in something more desperate. As though if she loosened her hold for even a breath, he might slip away into nothing.

Her gaze was hollow—unfocused—yet her fingers twitched ever so slightly, betraying the tension she refused to voice.

I hadn't seen her like this since her mother's passing. But that day had been a storm—tears, fury, the kind of grief that burned itself into the air.

This was different.

This was quiet. Heavy. The kind of grief that didn't scream, but pressed against the walls of the heart until it felt ready to crack.

Yuuta lay with his head against her shoulder, unaware of the weight he had become in her arms. His breathing was steady, peaceful. Beside him, little Elena had curled into the blankets, her tiny hand resting against her father's arm. She must have cried herself to sleep—her cheeks were still faintly flushed, her lashes wet.

Erza hadn't moved from that spot since she came back. Not to rest, not to eat. She simply sat there, a silent sentinel, watching over them both as though her will alone was keeping them tethered to the world.

She's entered in Dragon Grief State.

It's been a long time… a very long time since I've seen a dragon fall into that state..

A terrifying curse that falls upon dragons who fail to protect their bonded partners. It's not sorrow like humans know it—no, this grief is primal, a collapse of their very soul. They lose their sense of logic, ability to communicate, their emotions twist, and they become unpredictable, dangerous… broken.

Some dragons in this state have destroyed entire cities in a blind storm of anguish. Others go mad, unable to recognize friend from foe. The pain of failure—of losing the one they swore to protect—pushes them past the edge.

But Erza… she didn't lose Yuuta.

And maybe that's why she hasn't let go of him since. Her dragon instincts haven't confirmed he's out of danger, so she's stuck between grief and hope—trapped in a limbo of emotion she can't escape.

She won't eat. She won't rest. She won't even blink without checking if he's still breathing.

I wish I had done more for that boy when he asked for my help. Maybe then she wouldn't be carrying the weight of a broken world in her chest.

Maybe then, I wouldn't be watching a dragon queen fall apart—silently, tragically—while still holding on with trembling claws.

I sat across from her at the low table, my cane leaning against my chair. The tea in my cup had gone cold some time ago, but I still sipped it, tasting nothing.

My thoughts kept circling back.

He had called for my help.

Yuuta.

In the academy courtyard, his voice had carried urgency I should have recognized. But I had waved it off, thinking it some small Mortal affair. I hadn't looked deeper.

I should have.

I should have known demons were involved.

Knock. Knock.

The sound stirred the air, sharp against the stillness.

Someone was at the door.

I didn't bother to move. From where I stood on the upper balcony, I murmured a short chant, and the latch turned itself. The door swung open on its own, the hinges creaking softly.

A girl stepped inside.

Human. Black hair. Amber eyes.

Fiona.

She carried a small woven basket, the faint scent of crushed herbs spilling from it and modern medicine. A few glass vials clinked softly against one another inside, and something neatly wrapped in cloth sat at the top. She bowed low before speaking.

"Good morning, Grandpa."

Her voice was light but there was a thread of tightness in it, as though she was keeping her worry carefully hidden.

"Yes, child?" I asked, my tone even. "What brings you here?"

She shifted the basket slightly in her hands. "I came to see Yuuta. I… felt like he was hurt."

One of my brows arched.

"Oh?" My voice carried just enough edge to make her glance away. "Humans can sense pain from such distance now? That's… new."

I pointed toward the guest room. "He's in there."

She bowed again—lower this time. "Thank you, Grandpa."

Without further words, she crossed the hall, her footsteps soft but quick, disappearing behind the bedroom door.

I remained on the balcony, the metal rail cool beneath my palm, the morning sun spilling its warmth across my face.

It should have been comforting.

It wasn't.

Something was wrong.

It started as a whisper on the breeze—a faint, metallic tang that didn't belong to the crisp morning air. I breathed in slowly, letting the scent settle, and the truth bled through.

Blood.

Not fresh, not near… but scattered across the wind like echoes of screams carried far from their source.

It wasn't the clean scent of Inconnet blood, nor the quiet inevitability of a Accident death. This was different. This was blood born of rage—someone tearing through their enemies not for necessity… but for vengeance.

For a moment, my thoughts turned to Erza.

But no.

Her grief had wrapped around her like chains, locking her strength away. Her soul was still, her will subdued. She hadn't moved from Yuuta's side since the moment she returned, and I doubted she would until he woke.

So… if not her…

Who?

Who had gone on this rampage? Who had hunted demon contractors with such precision, tearing them apart one by one, leaving nothing but the scent of ruin behind?

An ally?

An enemy?

I couldn't tell.

But one thing was certain—their power was real, and their fury was… personal.

I let my gaze drift upward, past the rooftops, past the pale blue stretch of morning sky, into the endless expanse beyond. My heart felt heavier with each breath.

I tightened my grip on the railing, eyes lifting to the pale morning sky.

Whoever you are… we will cross paths.

And I doubted either of us would walk away unchanged.

TO BE CONTINUE.....

Author's Note – What is Dragon Grief?

Let me explain something important—Dragon Grief.

It's not just sadness.

It's a powerful, dangerous state that only occurs when a dragon has truly fallen in love, bonded with a spouse, and vowed to protect them no matter what.

When that bond is broken—either through death or a near-death injury—the dragon enters Dragon Grief.

In this state, dragons become emotionally unstable, almost like they've lost their very soul. They stop communicating, lose touch with reason and logic, and become extremely vulnerable. If their spouse dies… they go on a rampage. Destroying anything and everything. They can't feel warmth anymore. They become hollow creatures driven by wrath and pain.

But… if the spouse is still alive—even barely—

Then that dragon will guard them nonstop. Day and night. No sleep. No food. No distractions.

Until their partner fully recovers, no one is allowed to touch them. Not even friends or family.

That's why… Erza was trembling.

Why she couldn't speak.

Why she looked so distant and broken.

She's not acting weird—she's in Dragon Grief.

And that should tell you just how much Yuuta means to her.

And this is also the main reason Allen hasn't appeared in front of Erza.

He's the one who injured Yuuta.

He knows what would happen if he showed his face now—

Dragons in grief don't forgive… not easily.

So he's gone into hiding.

I hope that clears up the silence, the tremble, and the storm waiting to break.

Thanks for reading!

And if you want to boost Yuuta's healing, feel free to drop a Power Stone — it might just increase his chances of Yuuta recovery! 💫

See you in the next chapter~ 😉