Side Story 3.2

After hearing Eric’s short summary, Odile snorted again.

“It’s your fault.”

Eric’s face grew even more tense. Delilah, who used to smooth out his frown with her fingers, was far away, holding hands with Marguerite and admiring the flower beds. Her bell-like laughter drifted on the breeze from time to time.

“Are you the one giving birth to the child? It’s Delilah, isn’t it? Who do you think you are, telling her to have a baby or not?”

“That’s exactly the problem.”

Odile briefly frowned, looking so much like Eric, then drank her tea and set the cup down with a bang. The white plates wobbled dangerously again.

“Yeah. That is the problem.”

Odile admitted it plainly. Really, that was the problem.

Having a child was not as easy as one might think. Not just giving birth, but even getting pregnant was not easy. When Odile started having morning sickness, she felt like she’d been dropped into a completely different world. Things she used to eat and drink without issue now made her feel sick just by being nearby.

And as her belly grew, the countless discomforts and pains were something else. Pregnancy was often considered a noble and beautiful thing, but in reality, it was a series of pains and hardships that one could never truly know without experiencing them. Add the dangers of childbirth, and it was a wonder humans hadn’t gone extinct.

Odile nearly died giving birth to Marguerite. Philip even tried to call Baron Briar, whom Odile had cut ties with after marriage. He really thought Odile was dying.

She only survived and recovered thanks to Philip, Eric, and Delilah pouring their wealth and power into her care. They used every magical potion and medical skill they could find, and Odile barely survived. Even then, she struggled for over a year. With Philip and Delilah unable to take long absences from work, Eric stayed by Odile’s side and nursed her.

It was understandable that Eric didn’t want Delilah to go through that. Who would want their beloved wife to suffer so much? Only a fool would.

“My foolish little brother.”

Odile sighed deeply. Her mouth felt rough from all the tea she’d drunk.

“Still, that’s not something you can just unilaterally forbid.”

“…”

“You know it, but you still insist.”

Odile sighed again, looking at Eric’s sullen face. Her clumsy, foolish younger brother never seemed to improve, no matter how old he got.

No matter how worried he was, if Delilah wanted to have a child, he had to respect her wishes too. Eric knew that. He might be a bit slow, but Eric was Odile’s brother in every way—raised and taught by her. And he was also half-crazy from loving Delilah so much.

“Don’t you want to see a daughter who looks like Delilah?”

At her pointed words, Eric’s face twisted even more. Odile laughed at his thoroughly crumpled expression. Eric, for all his looks, adored Marguerite. He carried her so much she learned to walk much later than other children. There was no way Eric would dislike having a child with Delilah.

So right now, Eric was just scared of losing Delilah. Odile poked at him, thinking so. If he was going to keep his mouth shut, he might as well make more tea.

“Coward.”

“Stop cursing. You have a child now.”

“Did you think becoming a mother would make me gentle like a saint?”

Plop, plop. Eric, putting fresh tea leaves into a new pot, activated the magical kettle to boil water. Odile knew that after her illness, Eric had finished making the magical kettle, and now it was an essential item in the capital. The kettles placed throughout the Shani mansion were all handmade by Eric.

Even as the water began to boil in the kettle, Eric kept his mouth shut. Odile watched Delilah and Marguerite, timing when they would finish looking at the flower beds and return to the table.

“If… if my wife dies giving birth, and the child survives.”

Through the bubbling sound, Eric’s quiet voice broke in. His already low voice sank even further. It was so soft it was almost impossible to hear, scraping out from his throat.

“Could I love that child?”

Odile felt as if she’d been struck on the back of the head.

As she blinked in surprise, the water finished boiling. Eric silently poured the bubbling water into the teapot. Steam clouded the air, then cleared as the wind blew. Odile tapped her fingers on the table.

Eric had never received proper love from his parents. Baron Briar’s wife died giving birth to Eric, and after her death, the Baron left the infant Eric to a nanny and a handful of servants, ignoring him. As Eric grew older, the Baron even began to openly dislike him.

Odile hadn’t grown up much better, but for Eric, it was better to have no father at all. Odile sometimes reflected on how she’d hated young Eric, falling into brief contemplation. She had been young then, so it was unavoidable.

Thinking back again and again, Odile always ended up blaming Baron Briar. That bastard. Grinding her teeth, she cursed her father inwardly. If he’d been even a halfway decent parent, Eric wouldn’t have such thoughts.

When Odile decided to marry, everyone was surprised. But her decision wasn’t out of impulse or whim, nor even for Philip Shani’s pretty face.

Odile had long wanted to raise a child. She wanted to give the love she and Eric never received. They might not have grown up under good parents, but she wanted to show they could be good parents themselves.

Odile Briar and Eric Briar.

In the chilly breeze, Eric’s hands were neat as he strained the finished tea. When he first started copying Odile, his movements were clumsy, but now he was more graceful than she was. Maybe it was from repeated practice, or maybe unconsciously imitating Delilah’s elegant gestures.

Odile watched him, then picked up her teacup. The cool scent of grass seemed to clear her mind.

When had Eric become so natural at making tea? When had Eric Briar started wanting things, and worrying? When had he started smiling, even in front of Odile?

“You met Delilah.”

She spoke before she could think. Odile sipped her tea. The hot liquid left a faint sweetness and a refreshing scent in her mouth.

“You’re not just the clueless Eric Briar anymore.”

“…”

“You’ve learned a lot from Delilah.”

‘How to love.’

Odile tossed out what might have been an embarrassing remark, then smiled. Sometimes it’s better to say things aloud than just think them. Now was one of those times. It was exactly the right thing to say.

“So you couldn’t do that.”

The tea she sipped was delicious. Eric kept getting better at making tea. He should open a teahouse when he’s old. All because of Delilah. Odile knew that whenever Delilah was tired, had free time, or was feeling down, Eric made her tea. So, just like the taste of his tea, the way Eric loved Delilah was getting better every day.

There was no need for Eric to hesitate to reach for happiness anymore.

“So stop worrying about useless things.”

“…You’re right.”

“And if you’re a magical engineer, act like one. Don’t just imagine the worst after a problem—find a solution. All those years of study wasted. Genius, my foot.”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

Eric’s reply was so subdued that Odile scolded him for no reason. Eric just nodded in agreement. Watching him, Odile felt herself getting emotional. Getting old makes you weepy.

“Mom!”

“Odile? What’s wrong, did you two fight?”

Luckily, before Odile could shed tears, Marguerite and Delilah returned. They smelled of sweet milk and wildflowers. Odile looked at Delilah’s worried face and pulled up the corner of her mouth.

“We didn’t fight. And if we did, I’d win.”

Declaring victory, Odile added, still smirking.

“It was you who fought.”

“Oh…”

“Did Didi and Uncle Eric fight?”

Marguerite’s eyes widened as she looked back and forth between Eric and Delilah. Delilah felt oddly embarrassed. Talking about adults fighting in front of a child—Odile, really… Eric seemed to feel the same, avoiding her gaze and staring at the table.

Marguerite, looking between the two, walked over and grabbed Eric’s hand. Eric, out of habit, let her lead him.

“Hold hands and make up!”

Marguerite proudly stood Eric and Delilah together. Laughter erupted, and Marguerite, not understanding, kept insisting they reconcile. In the end, Eric and Delilah shook hands in front of Marguerite, whispering “Sorry” and “I love you” to each other, half grateful to the child.

After Marguerite even made them hug, Delilah stroked her hair and laughed.

Children really are amazing. They think and act in ways adults can’t imagine, and sometimes, that’s closer to the right answer than all the complicated adult reasoning.

That day, in the carriage ride home, Eric and Delilah talked a lot. Delilah cried a little, and Eric held her hand tightly and whispered his love again.

Two years later, a child was born with Delilah’s pink hair and Eric’s golden eyes. After several days of discussion, Eric and Delilah named the child Felicita.

With the meaning of happiness.