Duke, Please Stop Because it Hurts

“Master.”

The door finally opened and Pillen appeared. The child was in her arms, but Pillen’s expression hadn’t been well.

“What about Molitia?”

Without even looking at the child properly, he moved his eyes right into the birth room.

“Currently, both the midwife and the doctor are executing post-treatment, but…”

Raven ran inside before he even finished listening to Pillen. Without anyone else stopping him, he instantly approached Molitia who was lying in bed.

The smell of blood intruded his nose. All that massive amount of blood was exuding from Molitia that it made his nose wrinkled in response.

“…Molitia.”

He didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to deny what he saw. Her complexion had turned as pale as a corpse. Breathing while in search of a single puff of air became fragile that made it difficult to see the movements of her chest going up and down only with the naked eye.

“Molitia.”

As soon as he knelt beside her, he clasped their hands together and the chilling sensation dispersed through the fingertips. Her hands had always been cold, but they were never as icy as today.

“What are you even doing? Save my wife!”

The more desperate they had been, the busier they moved accordingly to the murderous tone of voice. His voice reverberated in the birth room to somehow save her.

Despite the efforts of those people, her eyes wouldn’t open easily. The passing warmth was only making her close to death.

‘I’ll live for sure.’

Her lovely words lingered in his ears. His sore nose hadn’t been calming down at all.

“No, Molitia. You said you’d live. You’re supposed to live alongside him.”

Raven held her hand tightly to keep her warm at all cost. He also tried giving her some warmth by rubbing his own cheek, but he just couldn’t stop feeling the cold sensation instead.

“You can’t die like this. If you die, I’d die as well.”

‘Don’t talk nonsense’—he expected her to open her eyes while saying those words, but he just couldn’t imagine her opening her eyelids with that blue complexion of hers.

He was afraid. He had already witnessed countless deaths, but he never felt this awful before. A more chilling sensation had invaded him than a blade that was stuck into his body.

“Please—please, Molitia. Please.”

Warm drops of liquid were soaking the back of her cold hands. His view had appeared blurry. He was still holding onto her hands desperately as if he was clutching on the last line of rope.

“Please don’t leave me…”

Among those desperate people, the sad wailings of a child rang out—perhaps it was aware of the mother’s condition.

* * *

The curtain of the night was drawn and the sun had risen in dew.

The snug warmth of the sun eventually touched the end of the baby’s bed. The sun shone over the faintly rocking bed and the purple eyes of the child with black hair slowly opened themselves.

The child didn’t even cry when the nanny was already dozing off beside him. He blinked his big eyes and wriggled his fingers.

What had you been so curious about? The world was filling the eyes of a child, who didn’t really sleep a lot.

A soft breeze tickled his black hair that fluttered in the wind. The child’s hand then moved along as if to catch the breeze. The child, who moved his hands several times in the air, eventually turned his eyes to his fingers.

The child was staring at his own hands before he slowly opened his mouth. It was at that moment when the child’s hand was just about to go right into his already opened light pink gums.

Then, a big black shadow fell upon the child’s face. A large hand, seemingly several times larger than the child’s, held him back softly.

“You can’t do that, Irit.”

The child blinked just as if he understood his own name.

“Du, Duke!”

The nanny who woke up belatedly jumped out from her seat.

She tried to greet without shifting her sleepy face, but Raven stopped her.

Raven’s eyes were still on his child, Irit. The hand that was holding the bed rail was as soft as it could ever be.

The child’s hands, who had recognized his father, immediately opened themselves wide. Raven reached out to the struggling act of seemingly asking for a hug.

The way he held the child looked accustomed already. The soft cheeks that had been covered with saliva were puffing across his shoulder.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Ab…”

Now, the answer had also been voiced out, not like a child who was barely starting to coo. The drool covered hand was poking around his sleeve, but he didn’t mind it at all.

“Did you eat well?”

Just like when Molitia was carrying a child in her stomach, Raven had been clumsy, but he still talked to the child every single day. Even if the child had uttered something unknown, he responded to it well.

“Buu.”

With that lovely voice, Raven picked the baby up. The child smelled faintly of milk as well as the scent of dried blankets.