Three months later.
Spring had arrived.
The once-frozen earth had begun to thaw, and life was returning to the land. Plants, which had withered under the weight of a daunting winter, now stirred with gentle vitality. Fresh buds peeked from branches, and green shoots pushed through the soil, reaching for the sun.
The warm sunlight bathed the village in a soft golden glow, carrying the tender warmth of a mother's embrace. After months of cold silence, the air now buzzed with quiet renewal.
It was a season of healing. A season of hope.
In front of a church-like house, a small group of people stood, quietly waiting. The air was still, but their expressions were tense—heavy with worry and anticipation.
A middle-aged woman stood with her hands tightly clasped in prayer, whispering softly under her breath. Beside her, two men murmured to each other in hushed voices, their faces drawn with concern.
Suddenly—
"Waah! Waah! Waah!"
The sharp cry of a newborn rang out from inside the house.
All three froze, eyes wide in surprise. But only for a moment. Relief and joy spread across their faces almost instantly, and without hesitation, they rushed into the house.
In front of them stood a young woman dressed in nun's robes, cradling a newborn baby in her arms. Beside her, lying on the bed, was the pale but conscious figure of the mother—exhausted, yet alive.
"Father… it's a boy," sister Lily said, her voice trembling with joy.
When Father Orsi—clad in his priestly robes—heard the words, his eyes welled up with tears. The middle-aged couple, who had taken the mother in, also began to cry—tears of joy and relief streaming down their cheeks.
Father Orsi stepped closer to the bed, his gaze softening as it fell on the weary woman.
"How are you, Miria?" he asked gently.
"I'm… fine, Father," Miria replied, her voice faint but filled with emotion. "Could you… please let me hold my child?"
"Of course," Father Orsi said with a warm smile. "Sister Lily, please."
Sister Lily nodded silently and stepped forward, gently carrying the newborn over to the bedside. With utmost care, she placed the baby into Miria's waiting arms.
As soon as Miria held the child, her body trembled. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled freely down her cheeks. She pulled her baby close, hugging him tightly to her chest as if afraid to ever let go.
The newborn, who had been crying moments ago, slowly quieted. His small hands curled against her, and he nestled peacefully against his mother's shoulder—calm, safe, and warm.
As Miria gently patted her baby's back, something unexpected happened.
A dark, ominous mana began to leak from her body—thick and heavy, like a suffocating fog. The warm light of the room seemed to dim under its presence. Miria's face went ghostly pale, her lips losing all colour. Her body trembled uncontrollably, and her breath came in ragged gasps.
Everyone in the room—Father Orsi, Sister Lily, and the middle-aged couple—froze in shock, their joy shattered in an instant by the unnatural shift.
They hadn't expected this. No one had.
"F-Father…" Sister Lily's voice broke the silence. Her eyes widened in horror as she stared at the swirling dark aura. "It's a curse. And not just any curse—this one is designed to devour life."
She clenched her fists. "It's draining her vitality... and if we cannot stop this curse now, she will die."
Hearing Sister Lily's words, the eyes of Father Orsi and the middle-aged couple widened in shock and helplessness. Panic began to creep into their expressions.
They wanted to do something—anything—to stop the curse. But none of them had the power. None of them knew how.
They could only watch as the dark mana swirled around Miria like a hungry mist.
"Hehe…" A weak, broken laugh escaped Miria's lips. "It seems… my time has come."
Tears streamed down her face as she looked down at the child in her arms—her voice trembling with regret.
"I'm sorry, my child… I lied to you. I told you we'd live together… happily, in peace… but…"
Her arms, trembling from weakness, still tried to hug her baby tighter.
"I'm sorry…"
As if sensing his mother's sorrow, the child in her arms gently reached up and touched her hair. His tiny fingers brushed it clumsily, and a soft giggle escaped his lips.
Miria, startled by the sound, looked down at him. His skin was warm and slightly tanned, his face round and soft like jelly. A small, innocent smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"Hehe…" Miria chuckled weakly, her eyes glistening with tears. "You look just like your father, my sweet boy…"
But as she spoke, the dark mist around her stirred violently, as if enraged by the warmth between them. Her body convulsed, and she began to cough violently—sharp, wracking coughs that left blood on her lips.
"Cough… cough… huff…" She gasped, but still held her child close. "It's… okay. I just realized… cough, cough… I haven't even given you a name."
She smiled through the pain, her voice barely a whisper now.
"From now on… you are my Julio… Julio Patricio…"
"Cough—COUGH!"
Her body trembled under the strain, but her arms never let go of the child she named.
When Father Orsi, Sister Lily, and the middle-aged couple heard Miria's final words, tears welled up in their eyes. Watching a mother speak her last words to her newborn child was truly heart-wrenching. A deep sense of helplessness settled over them.
"Father…" Miria whispered, still cradling her son, "please raise this child well. I'm just… an unfortunate mother… who couldn't even live long enough to let her child breastfeed…"
Father Orsi stepped forward, his voice trembling with emotion.
"Of course… I'll take care of him as if he were my own," he said through quiet sobs. "There's Asta and Yuno as well—he'll never feel alone. We're all here for him. Always."
A faint smile touched Miria's lips. "Thank you, Father… I'm… relieved…"
With those final words, Miria's voice faded into silence.
Her breathing slowed... and stopped.
But her face remained serene, a peaceful smile etched into her pale features. As her life left her body, the dark mana that had coiled around her vanished—fading into nothingness with her final breath.
The moment she passed, Julio began to cry—his wails cutting through the heavy silence like a blade to the heart.
The middle-aged woman broke into sobs, unable to hold it in any longer.
"Oh God… how can you be so cruel?" Father Orsi murmured, his voice thick with grief, tears falling freely as he let out a long, aching sigh.
Seeing Julio crying in his mother's arms, Father Orsi stepped forward, his heart heavy with sorrow.
Gently, he reached down and lifted the child from Miria's embrace.
"Don't cry, little one," he whispered, cradling Julio carefully in his arms. "We'll take care of you. You will never feel alone—not while I'm here."
He began to gently sway, rocking Julio back and forth. His voice was soft, soothing, filled with the warmth of a man who was already raising two orphans as his own.
Julio's cries slowly softened, his tiny fists clutching at Father Orsi's robes as he began to calm.