HPTL Chapter 1.3

《“What do you mean? That we’ve… been found out?”》

Yelena’s voice trembled through the communication orb¹, vibrating with unease. Christian Baren swallowed a hollow laugh at her reaction, which seemed even more shaken than his own.

And why wouldn’t it? This place, Haksil, was far from the capital of Vermar, a remote region rumored to have a dwindling population. For someone who knew Christian Baren to appear in such a place would undoubtedly be as shocked as Yelena.

“Haksil is my hometown. If it’s alright with you, Lord Knight, how about heading there?”

When they first left Vermar, Christian had intended to cross the border into another country. But Yelena’s warning—that crossing the border while pregnant could bring trouble—convinced him to settle in Haksil instead. After giving birth to Miraera, he found himself unable to move any further.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Lord Baren?”

Yet even here, that man had found him.

Christian stared at the glowing communication orb before lowering his head. Unconsciously, one hand began picking at the nails of the other. As he gazed at the thumb of his left hand, where red droplets of blood welled up between torn flesh, Christian spoke.

“I’ve been caught in a scene I can’t deny.”

《“You don’t mean he saw Miraera, do you?”》

“…Yes.”

《“Good heavens!”》

Yelena gasped. Christian wanted to agree, but he had to finish what he started.

“That man is a monster. I can’t leave Miraera behind and flee alone. So I need your help.”

《“Tell me, Chris. I’d do anything to help you.”》

Her resolute answer carried a steely determination, and Christian let out a bitter smile.

“You don’t need to go that far. Just… come pick up Miraera right now. That’s enough.”

No sooner had Yelena’s “Understood” come through than the communication orb fell silent. Christian stared at the now-still orb for a while before turning his gaze to the closed door.

“You’re looking at me like I’m a ghost. What’s wrong? Can’t believe I made it all the way here? By the way, how long are you planning to keep me standing out here, ‘Glory of the Empire’?”

As much as he hated to admit it, Roman Erenstein was undeniably striking. They said once you met his violet eyes, you couldn’t escape; his smile ensnared you like a trap; and a night with him stripped away all reason. Seeing him now, beaming as he alternated his gaze between Christian and Miraera, Christian’s heart stopped.

‘Does he know everything and come here anyway?’

How did he find me?

‘I covered my tracks so carefully.’

Was there a mistake somewhere along the way?

‘Or could it be Father…’

No. That’s impossible. He swore to serve only His Highness the Crown Prince. He wouldn’t serve another.

‘But how, then?’

How did he track me down here?

And how does he know about Miraera?

His mind spiraled. The flood of sudden thoughts brought on a wave of dizziness. After wrestling with his thoughts in his room for what felt like an eternity, Christian stood before the door, his face still pale and unguarded.

Beyond this handle lies that man.

That fact alone sent his heart racing, but Christian had to act calm—at least pretend to. It was the only way to protect Miraera. Biting his lip, he turned the doorknob.

Creak.

‘I can’t falter. I can’t…!’

No matter what he faced, he’d told himself countless times that staying composed was key. But as Christian Baren’s eyes widened at the sight before him, that resolve crumbled. Two figures with black hair—a man and a girl—came into view as he stepped out.

“So there’s really a dragon in the palace?”

“Maybe.”

“Can Miraera see it too?”

“Hmm, if you stay cooped up in a backwater place like this, you’ll never get the chance.”

“Then Miraera should go to the palace!”

“Are you going?”

“Yeah!”

“But your father might not allow it.”

“Don’t worry! Miraera can beg! Papa always does what I want!”

“Oh? If you ask, he’ll say yes?”

“Yup! Papa loves Miraera so much! And Miraera loves Papa too!”

His heart sank to the floor.

Miraera, Christian Baren’s most precious daughter, was smiling radiantly in that man’s arms. The undeniable resemblance between them struck Christian with despair.

He couldn’t breathe. Seeing his daughter perched on that man’s lap, whispering in his ear and giggling, was the furthest thing from the picture Christian had wanted. What he’d hoped for—what he’d wanted—!

“Miraera!”

Unable to continue his thoughts, Christian strode toward them, his face hardening. The startled expressions of the man and girl as they turned to him were so eerily alike it threw Christian into deeper turmoil. But he didn’t stop.

“Get up!”

“Papa?”

“You shouldn’t let strangers hold you!”

“Huh?”

“Miraera, how many times have I told you! Get up right now!”

In the past six years, Christian Baren had never once raised his voice at his beloved daughter. But now, he was too agitated to even notice. All his inner chants—’Don’t get worked up, stay calm’—shattered the moment he saw the two chatting so fondly.

This can’t happen.

Unaware of what he was doing, Christian didn’t register the fear in Miraera’s eyes as she looked at him. His ears were filled with the frantic pounding of his own heart.

“Wah… Waaaaah!”

Then it happened.

“Waaaaah! Aaaah!”

Tears like pearls spilled from Miraera’s wide eyes as she stared up at Christian, who had stormed over and barked at her with intimidating force.

Miraera was a bright, gentle child who rarely cried over trivial things. Taking after Christian—both her father and mother—she was brave enough to roam mountains and fields freely. Stronger and kinder than most children her age, she was the apple of Christian Baren’s eye, though he secretly worried she was too mature for her mere six years.

So seeing her burst into tears, sobbing with all her might, was a profound shock to Christian. He stared, wide-eyed, at Miraera trembling and wailing, “Papa… Papa…!”

“Papa got mad at Miraera! Waaaaah! Papa got mad at Miraera! Waaaaah!”

“M-Miraera, I…”

“No! I hate Papa!”

Christian Baren’s face turned ashen. His jaw dropped as Miraera, screaming “Waaaaah!” flung herself into Roman Erenstein’s arms instead of his own.

“Waaah, hic, waaaaah!”

“There, there… Your ‘Papa’ messed up. Don’t cry. If you cry, you lose.”

“Waaaaah! I hate him! I hate Papa!”

Roman Erenstein gently lifted Miraera into his arms and shot Christian a sidelong glance, a faint smirk tinged with mockery, as if clicking his tongue.

︶︶︶ ✦ ⋆˚₊⋆ ☽༄༅༄☾ ⋆₊˚⋆ ✦ ︶︶︶

“So you’re saying… that I’ve actually developed… a woman’s… thing?”

Christian Baren couldn’t believe it. No, if he couldn’t believe that, he shouldn’t have believed the pregnancy either. More accurately, he didn’t want to believe it—that was the right way to put it. Facing his paling, rigid expression,  Yelena nodded.

“To be precise, it’s a womb.”

“…I’m not saying it because I don’t know what it is.”

It was humiliating.

Christian was a robust man. He towered over most men and women, and his pride stemmed from never losing a sparring match against fellow knights.

Except for that one night—the night of the Red Moon—he’d never been beneath another man.

For someone like Christian, even mentioning that word was a disgrace, a torment. The very fact that he’d had to abandon his honorable knighthood, betray his lord, and flee the capital was agony enough.

“To think I’d end up spreading my legs to give birth…”

What a horrific fate.

“Lord Knight, you’re thinking about this the wrong way.”

As Christian clenched his fists in fury and bowed his head, Yelena let out a scoff.

“What?”

Meeting her chiding tone, Christian looked up at her again. Yelena fixed him with a cold stare.

“I don’t know what happened between you and the one who gave you the ‘seed’. From what you’ve said, Lord Knight, bearing it clearly isn’t a blessing for you. But I won’t forgive remarks that belittle all mothers. The birth of life is precious, and countless people make noble sacrifices for it. Your words—reducing them to ‘spreading their legs to give birth’—are deeply offensive.”

“I-I…”

Her sharp rebuke jolted Christian awake.

He lowered his head.

Though it wasn’t yet visible, his belly would soon swell. Due to the power of the ancient spirit’s seed, a womb would form temporarily. It would vanish after birth, but until then, he’d experience the same symptoms as a pregnant woman—Yelena had explained it all.

Life…

Seeing Christian fall silent, Yelena asked.

“As countless ancient texts mention, some who conceived the ‘seed’ tried forcibly removing it. If you wish, Lord Knight, I’ll help you get rid of it. Your life might be at risk in the process, but since that’s a consequence you’d accept, I assume you’d be satisfied.”

Christian’s face paled.

“Get… rid of it?”

“If that’s what you want.”

He bit his lip. He wanted it—desperately. He hadn’t wanted to leave the capital, betray his lord, or abandon his family name, despite stepping away from it. He still longed to uphold the Baren name. He was an honorable knight, once called the ‘Glory of the Empire,’ admired by many. And yet…

“…Yelena.”

“Speak, Lord Knight.”

“I apologize.”

Having sorted his thoughts, he bowed his head.

“My words were wrong. My thinking was flawed, and my behavior was poor. I sincerely apologize.”

“…”

“I didn’t mean to disparage them. How could I, when I’ve never experienced their struggles? I just… I just…”

“I know. You just couldn’t accept it.”

Cutting him off, Yelena gave a faint smile. He couldn’t erase the child—wouldn’t. The moment he acknowledged the pregnancy, that child became family to Christian Baren. For this child, he’d forsaken his loyalty to his lord, his family, and his honor.

It was a child he’d sacrificed everything to protect.

Christian’s expression grew somber.

“We’ll reach Haksil soon.”

The carriage seemed to slow slightly, and that must’ve been why. Christian nodded. Yelena took a deep breath, steadying herself, and spoke again to him.

“Haksil is a remote village, so the fact that you’re pregnant shouldn’t get out. But you might have to spend most of your time indoors.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll… figure it out somehow.”

“No, you don’t have to. I’ll be there.”

“…What?”

“I’ll take care of you, Lord Knight.”

Christian blinked, flustered, then shook his head.

“There’s no need. I don’t require your help. Bringing me this far is already more than enough—”

“What are you going to do alone, Lord Knight?”

Her question silenced him. She pressed on.

“Are you going to call a midwife from the village, saying a man’s giving birth? Or announce to everyone that the child is yours?”

“I…”

“If not, let me help.”

Christian couldn’t fathom her calm request.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you helping me?”

Yelena looked at his furrowed brow, then burst into a soft laugh. She answered.

“Scholarly curiosity.”

“Curiosity?”

“Something I’d only read about in ancient texts is happening before my eyes. Witnessing and experiencing it is a blessing to me. Helping you is purely for my own selfish reasons.”

Christian had no response to Yelena’s “So don’t feel bad about it.”