It was the first thing Delphius heard when he rushed over at once.

“…Difficult labor?”

“Yes. Since it’s her first time, it’s already slow… but the child refuses to descend. The physician says it’s likely to become a difficult birth.”

Delphius stared at the tightly shut bedroom door.

Ordinarily, it would be left half-open—or Ilenia would come out first, greeting him with a soft smile.
But now, it was different.

The door was firmly closed, as though it welcomed no one inside. Only the maids carrying basins moved in and out from time to time.

It felt imposing—like a barrier that would not allow anything impure or ill-fated to pass through.

“How long will it take?”

“We don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Yes… everything depends on how well Milady can endure.”

Delphius’s gaze returned to the sealed door. From within, faint voices reached him, scraping against his ears.

“Just a little more, please hold on.”

“You mustn’t lose consciousness now.”

Only then did he realize the harsh, animal-like sounds layered beneath those voices were coming from his wife.

Her ragged breathing, her gasping—it sounded like a beast that had run itself to exhaustion across an open field.

If he thought of Ilenia as she usually was, it was impossible to believe such sounds could come from her.

How much pain must she be in…
How much must she be suffering, to groan like that?

“No.”

The moment his hand rose, almost unconsciously, to grasp the doorknob—

“Stop.”

The butler’s voice cut in sharply from beside him.

Delphius lowered his gaze to the hand gripping the handle. It wasn’t a door that would open easily, even if he tried—and yet, simply holding it only made the urge to open it grow stronger.

At that moment, Ilenia’s cry rang out from inside.

His grip tightened instinctively.

“You must wait. Milady is doing everything she can so that the child may reach you safely.”

“…Even if I go in—”

“There is nothing you can do.”

It was a complete refusal—a clear dismissal.

Delphius hesitated for a long time before finally forcing his hand to release the handle, wrenching it away with difficulty.

Even after that, Ilenia’s cries continued to reach him.

Her strained groans, her labored, weakening breaths—every sound came to him with painful clarity.

The maids began moving in and out of the room more frequently than before. Each time the door opened, a wave of hot air spilled out—along with the thick, metallic scent of blood.

He had only ever thought of it vaguely before.

Every parent had children. It was simply how life went. So Delphius, too, had believed that once he built a family, having children would naturally follow.

Women confined within estates could not speak openly of their pain before others. And so, like most men, he had grown up without ever truly understanding it.

But now—it was different.

Each time Ilenia’s strained cries slipped through the door, he felt nothing but his own helplessness.

He wanted to take back every careless word he had once spoken about having many children, even if it meant beating those words out of himself.

He had never imagined that bringing a child into the world could be this difficult.

His fists clenched and unclenched countless times as he stood there, his anxious gaze fixed on the door.

They said it was something every woman—every mother—endured. And yet, knowing that did nothing to steady his heart. After all, how could anyone remain composed while listening to the sounds coming from beyond that door?

“Perhaps you should rest now, my lord. It is already late.”

He came to his senses at the quiet suggestion and turned his head. Beyond the hallway window, darkness had already settled.

“…It’s already that late.”

“It is common for a first birth to take this long. Both mother and child require great endurance. It seems the night will pass before it is over, so it would be best if you retire for now. By the time you wake, the child may already be born.”

Delphius slowly opened his palm.

Each time Ilenia cried out, he had clenched his hand without realizing it—leaving deep crescent marks where his nails had dug into his skin.

Even now, amid the intermittent voices drifting through the door, there was still no sound of a newborn’s cry.

The sharp, metallic scent of blood lingered, refusing to leave his dulled senses.

The butler urged him once more to rest, and in the end, he had no choice but to comply.

Even after reaching the spare bedroom, sleep would not come.

Sitting in a chair, he stared out the window in silence.

It had been a long time since time itself had felt this slow, not since the days he had been confined within his own room.

It was only after an entire day had passed—and four more hours beyond that—that the child’s cry finally broke through.

A strong, piercing wail filled the air, followed by exclamations of joy.

“A young master!”

Thirty hours.

It was the cry that marked the end of a long, grueling labor.

“Congratulations!”

“Our heartfelt congratulations on the birth of your heir!”

Voices, thick with emotion, offered their congratulations one after another. Even the ever-composed, stern butler’s eyes reddened at the sound of the child’s cry.

And yet, at the center of it all, Delphius stood in stunned silence.

Perhaps it was because none of this joy felt like it truly belonged to him.

“Would you like to hold him?”

A maid stepped forward, presenting a small, white bundle.

What he had thought was merely a bundle of cloth revealed, within it, a tiny child—its face flushed red, scrunched tightly as it cried.

As if entranced, Delphius accepted the child into his arms.

The weight—so light it barely felt like anything—settled against him. The baby, unable even to open its eyes properly yet, parted its lips in small, restless motions. At a glance, it almost seemed as though it were resisting the overwhelming rush of the world it had only just entered from its mother’s womb.

The more he looked, the more astonishing it felt.

At first, it seemed like nothing more than a fragile, blood-warm bundle—but then it moved its lips again, and there was no denying it. This was a child.

It felt as though it might break at the slightest touch.

In that way, at least, it resembled Ilenia perfectly.

“Look—he can’t even open his eyes yet, but those deep eyelids are just like yours, my lord.”

Voices rose from all around, each pointing out some resemblance. Some said the nose took after one of them, others insisted it was the lips.

But Delphius could not truly see the child.

Perhaps he never would.

And yet—it didn’t matter.

The weight in his arms told him everything he needed to know.

That at last, he had obtained everything he had ever desired.

The moment the title of Duke of Luckhardt was all but his, Delphius lowered his head toward his small son.

A sharp, exhilarating thrill coursed through his entire body.

***

For a long time, Ilenia could not move at all.

A day after feeding the child for the first time, a sudden fever had taken hold of her, refusing to subside.

Because of it, she couldn’t hold her baby, nor could she see Delphius. Instead, she drifted through meaningless days, her breath uneven, her body weak.

Even as her mind wavered under the heat of her fever, the ones who filled her thoughts were neither Delphius nor the child—but her adoptive parents.

As cool cloths were hurriedly placed upon her burning skin, Ilenia thought of her mother.

“Our Leni… how are you feeling? Are you alright?”

Her mother’s worried voice echoed in her ears like a distant illusion.

And as though answering her, Ilenia murmured quietly in her mind.

‘No, Mother… I’m in so much pain. There isn’t a single place that doesn’t hurt.’

Whimpering like a child seemed to ease her, even if only a little.

And so, using those phantom voices as a lullaby, she drifted in and out of consciousness—opening and closing her eyes again and again—for three days.

“Milady, how are you feeling today? Is anything still hurting or aching?”

It was only this morning that her fever had finally broken.

Ilenia nodded weakly, struggling to move her body, which felt far heavier than before.

“…The baby?”

“With the nursemaid. Would you like to see him?”

“Yes… I want to see him.”

Not long after her words fell, the child—wrapped snugly in swaddling cloth—was placed carefully into her arms.

“You’re not fully recovered yet, so you must hold him carefully. You mustn’t strain yourself.”

Though she nodded reflexively at the repeated cautions, she couldn’t tear her gaze away.

The way he was buried in the swaddle looked almost comical—but instead of laughter, her eyes burned with warmth.

It had only been three days.

And yet, the fragile, blood-warm image from the moment of his birth had already faded. Now, he looked more like a proper infant—someone she could truly call her child.

“…Hello, my baby.”

She whispered softly, her voice barely above a breath, careful not to startle him.

“…So it’s you. The one who gave me strength when I struggled… the one who let me know I wasn’t alone.”

Slowly, she lowered her head and gently pressed her forehead to his.

Thump. Thump.

She could clearly feel the warmth where their skin met.

‘My child.
The child of Delphius and me.
The heir of Luckhardt.
The result of a contract marriage.’

None of those words could fully contain what she felt.

A swelling emotion rose within her, warming her eyes.

This child… was everything to her.

“I’m so glad we could meet safely, my baby.”

From here on, all that remained was to be happy together.

Smiling through her tears, Ilenia gently cupped the soft cheek of her child, unable to contain her joy.