There was a notably large estate that seemed almost out of place if one were to consider the modest surroundings and nearby homes.
It was around three hours before dawn, when this story began.
In Buena village, located on the outskirts of the Boreas Greyrat Dukedom, Asura Kingdom.
Inside the pompous house, a gorgeous woman with wonderfully blonde hair lay in postnatal—looking very exhausted.
Her complexion has somewhat become softer now actually, at least compared to a few minutes before, but still her breathing was a little too erratic.
And her temperature was high, with unnatural redness in her cheeks.
Heavy sweat oozes from her skin in an unending stream, and clung to her were the soft lenin she wore for comfort.
Despite having endured discomfort that would've equal all of the experience she has in suffering for her entire youth, a remarkable strength and determination still etched onto her face.
On one hand, it was true that childbirth was heavy on her body beyond what she'd imagine.
But the emotion of joy that accompany her pain could all but overwhelmed her dislike for it.
Now her body may be weak, and still she couldn't get any more excited.
Weakly glancing sideways, at the backs of her hubby and their maid steadily, she silently anticipates the baby she'd just birthed to be brought to her.
Contrasting her hopeful imagination, were the other occupants of the same room—ugly and tinted with gloom.
The father who was on the verge of tears for seven minutes now and the maid, who still refuses to deliver the news to her madam.
The reason of this contrasting grim ambiance upon the estate was all due to the appearance of the baby.
It was a boy, that was nothing of a shock.
He was incredibly adorable, again that was to be expected.
His skin were soft and smooth, with a little ears that were perfectly honed, a nose that was perfectly formed, with the most striking being the beauty marks that were on his cheeks, just like his father's, right below the eye.
Just by listing the perfection that the boy bore, nobody could acknowledge the definite wrongness that also present itself.
The father, the man whom bore a naturally proud facial structure of the south, right now could only try his very best to keep himself steady.
Oh how much more comfort he would have felt if his armed were to be chopped off instead.
Sniffling to himself as softly as he could manage, and using his palm to wipe the occasional tears that trickled down his face were the sole action he could took to tend to his heart ache.
The maid on the other hand was holding the baby very cautiously, as if afraid she would ruin the baby furthermore and trying to hide him just out of sight from her mother.
She bore no expression on her face at the moment, and, as if attempting to stretch the silence to its absolute limit, she slowly and gently wiped off the yellow fluid from the boys lips.
Perhaps because of impatience or she was unwillingness to wait for more, there was a soft, very exhausted voice reverberating from the bed.
"L-Lillia, is, is it a boy, or a girl?" It ask.
The maid knew the voice was addressing her, and it was by her madam who she ought to serve.
Even then, she ignore it. It was not so easy to know what to say on such occasions.
'Normally anyone should understand by now, but...'
She stop her movement and gazes silently down at the newborn, 'It is also quite natural to cope and escape this way too..'
At the same time, hearing his wife who was clearly anticipating this moment as much as he did, the only man in the room could no longer hold himself back and choke ou his breath, soon followed by sobs.
The sound that came out of his mouth were not pretty, because he pushed out all of what he was suppressing, therefore it wholly came like a Tsunami that considered nothing.
His voice was cracked, his sobs were terribly loud and his hiccups make him resemble a peasant girl who have been abused by his lord with no one to save her from the pit.
He slowly collapse down and crouch, covering both of his eyes with his palm, saying nothing coherent.
"H—honey??What's wrong?" His wife asked, her voice became a little bit more hesitant than before, like she was now starting to understand what was it all about.
"Is everything fine? Lillia, Paul?" It was the loudest voice she could manage, "WHY WON'T ANYBODY ANSWER?!!!"
Even then, the maid still hadn't averted her eyes from the baby to contemplate what she should say.
The baby's flesh lacks any pinkish hue, his temperature were getting colder, and his little hands were becoming limp.
It was only natural because she was now detached from his mother, and his breath was no more.
"Sigh..."
"Is, is everything all right?" Her madam ask hesitantly, and began crying.
Perhaps she hoped her intuitions were wrong.
And, finally, maybe the maid has judged that it was enough, with a solemn expression, she finally turn and faced the mother of the baby.
"Madam..."
She wanted to explain the situations, but turns out she needn't to worry herself.
By the time Lillia opened her mouth, the tearful woman has already set her eyes upon the limp body of the baby.
Her eyes were wide and her trembling lips slightly parted yet no sound could emerge.
Only a brief gasp escaped her lips, but no air follows after, with her chest immediately locked in her own ribs.
While laying still and her body tense, her exhale momentarily trapped her, like the air she usually inhaled gained several mass, and she could not manage any more strength to pull it inside.
She has her mouth open, probably to inhale, but it was useless.
All the while something inside her was constantly pushing the air out.
Lillia, the maid observed all of this and she was unable to witness the miserable state of her madam any longer, thus she avoided seeing her.
"Madam Zenith, try taking a breath," She approached her and suggested, laying the baby beside her.
After she was done releasing her hold on the baby, she raised her hand again and thump onto her madam's back lightly, caressing it up and down to assist her breathing.
And finally, the mother manage to wail out loud.
While constantly sobbing, she moved closer to her baby in desperation.
The boy was hers and hers alone.
Her exhausted hands softly cradled the baby who would have become a handsome young man, if only he'd live.
"Aaah, aaahh. Paul, My baby... My baby is." Her voice was not loud. But the sadness in them were tragically concise.
"DO SOMETHING PAUL!" She shouted.
But there was nothing he could do either, his husband was no God.
But she wasn't at fault, all she could do really, wad pressing her lips to the baby over and over and over again, hoping for a miracles that should not occur.
Very suddenly, while she kissed on his soft cheeks once more.
She withdrew swiftly and like someone in hysteria, look at the maid who was promptly startled.
"The baby, My Baby, He's Breathing, my, He LIVED." Her voice were cracked and her words disjointed.
Naturally the maid hesitated to believe her, as she had herself make sure the baby did not survive his Birth.
"Madam—"
"Guu? Aa... Ga?"
"!!!!!!"
"!!!!!!"
"ZENITH!" The father who had broken down by himself suddenly Jolted up and moved closer to the bed faster than anyone could blink, "Is That!—"
He was unable to continue his sentence, as a pair of eyes, clearly with sentience inside them was curiously assessing him.
And he was not alone in feeling utterly suprised.
The maid was too, wide eyed.
She stood still as the couple who were previously mourning their child has a happy, joyous celebrating cries this time around.