Additional Side Story 2: A Certain Season (2)

A few months after they stopped using contraceptives, the Verdun family physician delivered the long-awaited news: Lucia was pregnant.

The household erupted in celebration at the announcement.

However, the excitement was short-lived as Lucia’s morning sickness began, casting a shadow of concern over the estate.

The staff worked tirelessly to support her, but no one was more anxious than Owen.

Seeing Lucia struggle to keep even water or light meals down left him in turmoil. He jumped at any opportunity to fetch whatever she might crave.

Even though the Verdun household had a personal chef and patissier capable of crafting any dish, pregnancy cravings were unpredictable.

Lucia often requested food from various bakeries, cafes, and restaurants throughout the capital.

Whenever she mentioned a craving, Owen abandoned his work without hesitation, personally going to retrieve whatever she desired.

Though there were times he had to rely on the servants due to the demands of his duties, he preferred to handle it himself, feeling it was his responsibility.

As the difficult early months passed and Lucia’s condition stabilized, their time together grew even more frequent.

Though they had always been close, the couple now spent nearly every waking moment together, even sharing the study during work hours.

Time flew by, and before they knew it, the day of delivery arrived.

Childbirth, as expected, came with its share of pain.

Hearing Lucia’s strained cries from beyond the door, Owen paced anxiously, his lips tightly pursed in worry.

Despite Bella’s efforts to assist with her divine powers, his restlessness didn’t ease.

“Congratulations, Your Grace. A daughter has been born.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Owen, a maid emerged with the joyous announcement.

Though the actual duration had been much shorter, the wait felt unbearably long to him.

“Ah…”

Releasing a shaky breath, Owen immediately opened the door.

Inside, the scene before him bore evidence of the laborious process.

Lucia lay on the bed, drenched in sweat and visibly exhausted.

Owen rushed to her side, taking her hand and gently brushing back her damp hair.

“You’ve worked so hard… You’ve been through so much,” he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion.

Words couldn’t fully convey the mix of gratitude, guilt, and admiration that overwhelmed him.

Lucia, though drained, squeezed his hand weakly, her lips moving softly.

“You should see our child too, Owen.”

Her reminder brought his attention to the midwife cradling their newborn.

Nearby, Bella and the physician stood watch, while the maids who had worked tirelessly throughout the delivery hovered in the background.

Realizing how focused he had been on Lucia, Owen finally rose and approached the midwife.

“Please, hold her, Your Grace.”

The midwife gently handed the tiny infant to Owen.

Though wrinkled like all newborns, the baby’s presence filled him with an indescribable warmth.

Too small to determine whom she resembled, she was already perfect in Owen’s eyes simply because she was theirs.

“She has inherited the Verdun traits. Congratulations, Your Grace, Your Ladyship. You now have a proper heir.”

The baby’s black hair and eyes were unmistakable hallmarks of the Verdun lineage. No one could question her status as the rightful heir.

“…Lucia.”

Owen carefully carried their child back to Lucia’s side.

She had already seen their daughter before Owen entered and now gazed at her with a faint but proud smile.

“It’s a relief she inherited the Verdun traits. With her hair and eyes like yours, maybe she’ll resemble you in other ways too.”

“We’ll see as she grows,” Owen replied, his voice soft.

While he had once hoped their child would look more like Lucia, it seemed she had taken after him instead.

If that was the case, she might end up with a somewhat stoic appearance.

Still, he thought, she would undoubtedly be beautiful.

Owen chuckled at the thought, knowing time would reveal the answer naturally.

* * *

“It turned out just as I expected. Rozia looks exactly like you,” Lucia whispered, her gaze fixed on their sleeping child.

The child, who inherited jet-black hair and eyes, was named Rozia Verdun. The name was chosen because it reminded them of roses, a flower the couple loved deeply. Despite the name’s connection to Lucia, Rozia’s appearance was a miniature version of Owen.

At just four years old, Rozia displayed remarkable energy, striking features reminiscent of Owen, and an aura of calm and composure that seemed beyond her years.

Even at such a young age, she appeared fitting for the Verdun name—her demeanor, interest in swords, and early training with a wooden blade all hinted at it.

“She certainly does. Though her personality seems more like yours.”

Rozia’s preferences and interests mirrored Owen’s. She had a keen interest in swords and favored comfortable clothing, often rejecting skirts and dresses in favor of pants. Yet, despite her outward traits, her personality was undeniably like Lucia’s.

For instance, Rozia shared her mother’s possessiveness and persistence.

If she set her mind on something, she pursued it with relentless determination. And when she wanted something, she made sure it became hers. At times, her behavior was so single-minded that it astonished those around her—an unusual trait for a four-year-old.

“…Indeed. I didn’t expect her to be so persistent at such a young age,” Lucia admitted with a soft laugh.

Rozia, who resembled Owen so much, was utterly lovable. Her presence often felt like a smaller version of her husband, filling Lucia’s heart with joy.

Of course, raising a child required considerable effort and care, and the couple relied heavily on support from their staff and others. As first-time parents, they leaned on Rozia’s nanny and the advice of many experienced servants.

Though there were differences in noble and commoner child-rearing practices, the fundamental attitudes toward parenting often overlapped, making the staff’s guidance invaluable.

“Speaking of children, I heard Kyle and Bella recently announced some news,” Owen said, shifting the conversation from Rozia to their friends.

Three years ago, Kyle and Bella had a grand wedding. As the Mage Tower Lord and a Saintess, their union attracted immense attention, with a long list of distinguished guests attending the ceremony.

Though Kyle seemed overwhelmed by the sheer number of attendees, he still looked undeniably happy to marry the woman he loved.

After the lively wedding, the couple left for their honeymoon abroad and later announced their decision to live independently.

Traditionally, the Mage Tower Lord resided in the tower, while the Saintess lived in the temple. As symbols and leaders of their respective institutions, exceptions to this arrangement had never been allowed.

Previous Saints or Saintesses and Tower Lords who married typically lived together in one institution or the other. However, Bella and Kyle’s marriage was unprecedented. Their union represented the joining of two historically antagonistic institutions, and the possibility of one moving to the other’s domain was a recipe for conflict.

Foreseeing this issue, Bella and Kyle decided to purchase a separate residence in the capital, declaring their independence from both institutions.

Though the Mage Tower and the temple initially protested, they had no choice but to relent under public pressure, as separating the couple would have been poorly received.

“Yes, Bella told me herself,” Lucia replied with a smile.

Even now, the couple lived in their capital home, commuting to the Mage Tower and the temple as needed.

Recently, Bella and Kyle had shared their exciting news with Owen and Lucia—Bella was pregnant. They had informed them before making the official announcement.

“Things will get noisy,” Owen remarked.

“They’ll struggle with it, I’m sure. Neither of them seems particularly comfortable with that sort of attention.”

Despite Kyle’s long years as a public figure and Bella’s tenure as a Saintess, both still acted awkwardly when they became the center of attention.

“They’ve never seemed inclined to get used to it.”

More than that, Owen mused, they likely had no desire to adjust. Both of them preferred quiet over the chaos that came with fame.

 

 

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