I shook my head repeatedly, unable to believe what the doctor had said.

That was impossible.

My cycles had always been irregular and my divine power was so depleted that I shouldn’t have been able to conceive at all.

“…No. That can’t be right. I… Could there be an error in the test?”

“There’s always a small margin for error. However, Madam, modern blood tests are far more accurate than they used to be. In my opinion, this result definitely indicates pregnancy. Judging by the numbers, it’s around four to five weeks.”

“Test it again… Please… there must be some mistake. This doesn’t make sense…”

It felt like I’d been struck hard across the head.

It was so far beyond anything I had imagined that I simply couldn’t accept it.

“If you still doubt it, we can go to the hospital for a more thorough examination. But I don’t believe the result will change.”

When Doctor Eleanor delivered her firm conclusion, the tears I had been holding back finally fell.

Despite enduring countless hardships and humiliations, I had managed not to cry until now.

But now, they fell silently and unceasingly.

I felt sorry for the child who knew nothing and had come so gently to someone like me, a sinner.

This was worse than anything I could have imagined.

The fact that I — someone so utterly unworthy — was carrying a child was more than I could bear.

“This… can’t be happening.”

Right now, my body was slowly falling apart.

Even if I managed to hold on until I gave birth, my child would lose their mother after just a few short years.

And, more than anything, this child had been conceived without love, by two people united by hatred and revenge.

Every word that described this situation felt foreign and suffocating.

Ultimately, the child and I were nothing but a curse to each other.

Things had turned out exactly as my husband had insisted: that I should bear a child.

Perhaps, then, this would be a blessing to him alone.

Doctor Eleanor administered a nutrient infusion and prescribed several medications.

As I stared at the growing pile of medicine, I felt a heavy weight settle over me, tightening around my throat until I could barely breathe.

“Madam, the doctor said you have to eat, even if you have to force yourself… please…”

Laura stood beside me, her voice trembling and her eyes brimming with tears.

I had skipped both lunch and dinner, lying in bed doing nothing but crying.

“They say it’s normal to feel depressed in the early stages of pregnancy. If you collapse again like this… Master will be in an uproar.”

So, were all those symptoms I’d been experiencing signs of pregnancy rather than dying?

Or had they become intertwined to the point where I could no longer tell them apart?

Death and birth arriving at the same time.

Could such opposing forces truly coexist within a single body?

Eventually, my tears ran dry, perhaps because I hadn’t eaten.

At least that was a small mercy.

I didn’t want my husband to see me cry.

Facing him now would only make things more confusing.

I wasn’t sure I could stop myself from resenting the man who had got me pregnant.

No.

If anything, I was more to blame.

I had never imagined that this marriage would result in a child, yet I had neither avoided it nor taken any precautions.

I was the foolish one.

It seemed he had already heard.

My husband had returned home earlier than usual.

I could tell from the hurried greetings of the servants and the sound of his footsteps as he approached.

It was clear that he hadn’t even bothered to remove his coat.

He was coming straight to my room.

Normally, I would have forced myself to go out and greet him.

But today, I pretended to be asleep.

In fact, I already felt no different to a corpse.

There was no need to pretend.

“Madam cried herself to sleep.”

Laura’s voice reached me faintly, muffled by the closed door.

“…She cried. That woman.”

Why did it matter so much to him that I had cried?

At Laura’s words, my husband let out a heavy sigh.

“Yes… As soon as she heard about the pregnancy… She’s not someone who cries easily, so… seeing her like that, it broke my heart…”

“And her meals?”

“She hasn’t had a single sip of water all day. The only thing she’s had is the infusion Doctor Eleanor gave her.”

My ears rang as though a swarm of flies were buzzing around them.

My chest felt tight and suffocating, as though I were underwater.

After hearing the full account from Doctors Eleanor and Laura, my husband knocked twice.

Click.

The door opened quietly and he stepped inside.

I thought he was going to scold me.

I expected him to demand that I come to my senses, telling me that now I was carrying a child, I had no right to act so pitifully and show no maternal instinct.

Instead, though, he sat down silently at the foot of my bed.

For a long while, he simply looked down at me.

Just like the night before, he gently teased a strand of my hair between his fingers.

His touch was so gentle that it barely brushed my skin.

He hesitated like that, again and again, without saying a word.

“…Sienna.”

After a long silence, the only thing he could say was my name. The way he said it — softly, with a hint of weariness and lacking in strength — felt unfamiliar.

“Sienna.”

Sienna. Sienna.

He repeated my name over and over again, just as before, like a child who knew no other word.

“…I know. Of course you hate it.”

It seemed he already knew I wasn’t truly asleep, that I simply didn’t want to move, like a lifeless body.

“I understand. You’ve always rejected me. And now… you’re carrying the child of the man who destroyed your country, killed your family, and dragged you down into the dirt. Of course you’d rather die.”

Rather than receiving congratulations on his impending fatherhood, the man began endlessly confessing to a silent wall, receiving no response or reaction.

“If someone who didn’t shed a single tear even when her family died spent the entire day crying… I can only imagine how deeply it must have broken you.”

“……”

“But if you think about it, the child can be useful to you too. It’s not a completely bad card. So… don’t look at the child with the same hatred you have for me. And don’t hurt yourself like this either.”

Hearing him speak so calmly and refer to himself as someone to be hated made me want to tell him that wasn’t true.

It wasn’t because he was terrible.

The truly terrible thing was me.

I could already feel it: that I had no choice but to love the tiny life growing inside me, smaller than a fingernail.

It didn’t matter who the father was.

It didn’t matter what use the child might be.

The problem wasn’t him.

It wasn’t the child.

It was me.

I was slowly decaying from within.

“Just think of the child as one of the cards you have to survive.”

“……”

“If you want to survive, you have to erase all memory of Beatrix. The public won’t remember you as a princess; they’ll remember you as the wife of the Republic’s military commander, carrying his child. That’s how you’ll gradually become part of this country. You’ll be forgotten and become part of it.”

“……”

“People here are softer toward pregnant women than you think. It’ll be rare now for passersby to recognize you, point fingers, hurl insults… or try to stab you. So this isn’t entirely bad for you.”

I know.

But I’m just afraid.

I’m afraid of the end creeping closer and of my body slowly breaking down. I’m so frightened that I want to run away like a fool.

“So please… stop this. Stop hurting yourself like this. If anything—resent me instead. Hate me, the b*stard who forced this pregnancy on you.”

When he spoke like that, almost pleading, I mistook his intentions.

As if he truly cherished me.

But that wasn’t right.

He was supposed to be the one who crushed me without mercy; the one who despised and saw me as inferior.

Only when I was dead would he be able to move on without hesitation.

He wouldn’t grieve.

He wouldn’t feel my absence.

He would be relieved and freed from the troublesome fallen royal wife whom he could not kill because of public opinion.

He should be able to stand over my grave, finally unburdened, and spit on it.