Is it Duke Cromwell?

No, more importantly……

‘What if Anastasia wakes up from this……!’

I quickly got up to check the cradle.

Thankfully, Anastasia hadn’t awakened.

Afraid of more knocking, I hastily opened the door.

“Why is Mr. Hasson here……”

I feel foolish for briefly hoping it would be Duke Cromwell.

“What brings you here?”

I asked, hiding my disappointment.

“This morning—”

“Oh! Could you please lower your voice? The lady just fell asleep.”

I frantically requested as I heard his normal decibel level.

If only he knew how exhausting it is to put Anastasia to sleep.

Never mind her reversed day and night schedule—I should be grateful for the mere fact that she’s sleeping at all.

I pushed the chief butler, who must be at least forty years older than me, into the hallway and closed the door behind us.

“His Grace ordered me to deliver the item you left behind.”

He thankfully resumed our conversation after the door closed.

A chief butler is a chief butler indeed. He’s quick-witted.

What he handed me was a baby bottle.

“Ah.”

I didn’t even realize I’d left it.

No wonder my hands felt lighter on the way back.

“Thank you…… I didn’t even notice it was missing.”

I could return it to Mrs. Lester, but I don’t want to delve that deep.

‘He probably doesn’t know Mrs. Lester is in charge of meals.’

Best to keep it simple.

“……”

With his business concluded, I expected the chief butler to leave.

However, Hasson remained standing before me.

“Is there something else?”

A polite way of saying he could go now.

Uncharacteristically hesitant, Hasson finally spoke after some deliberation.

“The Duke is quite taciturn, isn’t he?”

His consistently businesslike voice had softened.

His tone suggested he understood my current situation.

‘That bas…… no, if it’s gossip about the Duke, I’d join in right away.’

Judging by his expression, he seems about to justify Duke Cromwell’s behavior.

Since the chief butler is also my superior, I can’t exactly cover my ears.

“His Grace suffers from insomnia. Because of this, he’s particularly quiet in the mornings.”

Is he saying I shouldn’t take the Duke’s dismissiveness to heart?

“Oh, really……”

……I wanted to respond more enthusiastically than this.

I was too tired to fabricate false interest or sincerity.

“……Yes, really.”

Confused by my conversation-killing response, Hasson quickly recovered with a clean smile and answered.

‘What does the Duke’s insomnia have to do with anything right now.’

I’m not sleeping either.

He might lie in a comfortable bed counting sheep, but I have to battle with Anastasia crying all night.

I feed her and change her diapers while she cries until she falls asleep, like just now.

We’re both equally sleep-deprived.

Except for my recent unusual lack of energy, I’m the only one who speaks every morning.

“Even if he doesn’t express it……”

Since I couldn’t empathize at all, I tuned out everything else Hasson said.

After hearing about Duke Cromwell’s insomnia, I had only one thought.

‘That’s such a typical romance fantasy male lead trait.’

I felt no sympathy, pity, or compassion like ‘you must be struggling too.’

“……if you ever need help……”

I could see concern in the chief butler’s eyes as he spoke.

Is he worried I might misunderstand Duke Cromwell as cold-blooded?

‘Being cold-blooded would be better.’

Better than being a pervert who marries his own daughter.

“Help? How could I possibly struggle? It’s such an honor to raise the lady.”

I forced myself to speak in a bright voice.

It seems I wasn’t the only one having a hard time this past week, as Anastasia was sleeping longer than usual today.

Thanks to that, I could enjoy a brief moment of pseudo-freedom.

Anastasia slept soundly in her cradle, blissfully unaware of the world.

‘I wish she’d sleep like this forever.’

……I felt a bit disgusted with myself for even thinking that momentarily.

“She looks like a real angel like this……”

Afraid my voice might disturb Anastasia, I whispered.

“……”

Sure enough, even that sound seemed to bother her as small wrinkles formed on her tiny forehead.

A precursor to waking up.

“Shh, it’s okay to sleep more.”

I gently patted Anastasia.

Her small body rose and fell slightly.

Anastasia was warm.

Perhaps the rhythmic touch brought comfort, as Anastasia, who had been frowning and whimpering, thankfully quieted down.

“……”

She must not be suffering in her dreams, at least.

Sitting beside the cradle, I watched Anastasia.

As if having a pleasant dream, her small mouth curved into a smile.

It had been a very long time since I’d seen that smile.

How wonderful it would be if she were this happy when awake too.

The baby’s cozy scent calmed my heart without me realizing it.

I gradually reduced my patting as I checked Anastasia’s condition.

Just as I was about to remove my hand—

“……”

Something covered in cloth grabbed my hand.

Perhaps ‘rested on’ would be more accurate than ‘grabbed.’

It was Anastasia’s hand, covered in a mitten, barely the size of one segment of my finger.

This had never, ever happened before.

My body froze instantly.

Her tiny hand had so little strength that I could easily pull away with the slightest movement.

But…… the warmth felt through the cloth was too comforting to easily shake off.

‘I really want to raise her well.’

I want to be good to her.

Even though we’ll only be together for three years, I want to do my best during the time I spend with Anastasia.

I want to give her a bright future by doing my absolute best.

‘Let’s not give up.’

Anastasia who cries whenever she sees me.

Anastasia who holds my hand in her sleep.

I hope the latter represents her true feelings.

Even if she bursts into tears whenever she sees me…… I must keep trying.

✧ʚ .·:¨༺♡༻¨:·. ɞ✧

Anastasia cried as soon as she opened her eyes.

My bold resolution crumbled in an instant.

“Lady, would you like some milk……”

“Waah—!”

I offered her the bottle, but Anastasia pushed me away as if refusing.

“Waah! Waah!”

I’m definitely doing something terribly wrong.

If only she could communicate even a little, I would ask her.

I feel like getting on my knees and asking what on earth is wrong.

♡SYSTEM♡

Mental strength decreases by 10!

♡SYSTEM♡

Health decreases by 10!

Ding! Ding!

The loudly ringing system windows make my headache worse.

“Hah……”

It’s not like there’s absolutely no solution.

Letting Anastasia cry until she’s exhausted.

A method I found because I couldn’t solve the problem.

It’s called a solution, but I know better than anyone how bad it is.

Anastasia continues to suffer, and my mental state deteriorates day by day.

It’s a difficult time for both of us.

With good luck, she stops within ten minutes; with bad luck, she cries for hours.

The problem is that after enduring this for so long, there’s little difference to me between ten minutes and an hour.

“Waah—! Waah—!”

“……Pull yourself together.”

Yesterday, or even a few hours ago, I would have given up.

But I decided to do my best.

I decided to make an effort.

‘What do people usually do in this situation?’

Not in this strange and sudden form of caregiver-child relationship, but what would ‘real’ parents overflowing with love do?

‘I’d have to have experienced it to know……’

I can’t imitate an ideal family without experience.

‘But I’ve seen plenty.’

I recalled images of families portrayed in various media.

I remembered a movie I once saw.

A nursery with warm light streaming in.

A crying baby and parents singing a lullaby.

“……Close your eyes. Don’t be afraid.”

My awkwardly flowing voice created a melody.

“The monster’s gone.”

Would this work?

The crying subsided.

“Mommy’s here beside you.”

Though I’m not your real mother, and I’ll disappear after three years……

Still, I want to raise you well while I’m here.

‘Please recognize that I’m trying too.’

I carefully stroked her small back.

Her back, barely the size of my palm, seemed like it would break with just a little pressure.

“Beautiful, lovely, wonderful child.”

They say words become reality.

As I said “lovely,” the frustration in a corner of my heart disappeared.

“……”

By the end of the song, Anastasia had completely quieted down.

Her round eyes looked at me as if curious about this unfamiliar music.

Afraid she might start crying again if the song stopped, I continued humming.

As the steady stream of notes induced drowsiness, Anastasia’s eyes blinked slowly.

‘……She’s finally sleeping.’

Not exhausted from crying, but truly sleeping.

A moving and wondrous moment.

I carefully laid the baby in the cradle as if handling glass.

How long has it been since I achieved peace with my own hands?

Gently rocking the cradle, I lightly touched Anastasia’s soft cheek.

“……?”

What’s that?

It feels like someone is watching us.

I sensed a presence at an unexpected moment.

“……”

I turned my head to look at the entrance.

The door, which I thought was closed, was slightly open.

“No one should be visiting at this hour……”

There was no one in the hallway either.

“Was it my imagination?”

I tilted my head in confusion.

Perhaps I didn’t close the door properly after sending the chief butler away.

*The lullaby references John Lennon’s “Beautiful Boy”