The night was deep and silent.
The dimly lit room carried the lingering scent of intimacy in the air. A chill seeped in through the cracks, but the thick blankets cocooned the two figures beneath them.
Celia, small and delicate, curled against the man's side like a drowsy kitten, her entire body pressed close to his warmth. His large, elegant fingers brushed aside the damp strands of hair clinging to her tear-streaked face before pulling her even tighter against him.
Enveloped in that embrace, her consciousness slowly faded…
---
The next night.
Celia stirred in her sleep, a strange sensation tugging at the edges of her awareness.
At first, it was faint—barely noticeable. But as time passed, the discomfort swelled into sharp, wrenching pain, as though something inside her was trying to force its way out.
By the early hours of the morning, she could bear it no longer.
With a gasp, she wrenched herself from the man's arms, her breath ragged.
Blinking through the haze of sleep, she looked down—
And her mind shattered.
Her stomach was swollen.
As a girl—she was pregnant.
Panic set in immediately. The pain didn't fade—it only grew worse, twisting inside her like a knife. She clutched the sheets, writhing helplessly against the agony.
Unsurprisingly, the commotion woke the man beside her.
At first, he snapped at her for disturbing his sleep.
But then—
Lian's expression shifted as awareness sharpened in his eyes.
He sat up in an instant, pulling her into his arms, one hand resting on her abdomen. His voice, usually so cold, softened as he murmured reassurances.
It didn't take him long to figure it out.
With just a glance, he understood—
The unnatural speed of her condition traced back to the crystal sphere in his spatial ring, the one brimming with condensed natural magic.
Last night, when he had poured his energy into her, the sphere had absorbed everything around it—amplifying the process beyond normal limits.
No wonder the egg had developed so quickly.
---
It was almost laughable.
Celia had lived as an elf for over twenty years.
And yet, she'd always assumed elves gave birth like humans—live births, not eggs.
Only now, as the reality of it crashed down on her, did she realize the truth.
That was why Lian had kept mentioning hatching.
She'd thought it was a joke.
But no—it was literal.
She could feel it—a smooth, round shape pressing against her from within, stretching her body to its limits.
The pain was unbearable. It blurred her vision, made her certain she would die from this.
But Lian—
Somehow, he was different now.
Gentle.
As she teetered on the edge of consciousness, his voice anchored her, steady and calm. The care in his words was so unexpected, so precise, that for a moment, it reminded her of her brother.
Her family wasn't here.
In this moment, Lian was all she had.
She clung to the fleeting warmth he offered.
This man—this invader who had treated her so roughly—
Yet now, she wanted nothing more than to rest her head against his shoulder and let sleep take her.
"Hey. Stay awake." His fingers pinched her cheek sharply. "If you don't push that egg out now, the magic inside you will rupture. You'll die."
Then, his arms shifted beneath her, carefully lowering her onto the bed.
The sudden loss of contact made her whimper.
Her hands flailed weakly, searching for the comfort that had vanished.
But there was nothing.
Only emptiness.
She sobbed, twisting the sheets in her fists.
"L-Lord Lian…" Her voice cracked. "It hurts… please… help me…"
"Stop panicking." His grip returned, firm around her fingers.