Special Story 15

They returned to their bedroom with the baby. Though Maria had her own room and plenty of maids capable of caring for her, both Armin and Vivian preferred to keep her close, tending to her together in their own room.

From the nursery to the bedroom, Armin handled Maria with such care it was as if she might burst like a soap bubble at the slightest touch. Perhaps because his arms were so comfortable, Maria didn’t stir once and continued to sleep peacefully.

With each breath she took, the warm, faint scent of milk lingered in the air. Her soft breathing echoed right by his ear. Armin thought to himself—was it really okay to feel this happy?

Even after he laid her gently on the bed, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. It felt surreal. Had all parents known this kind of happiness? Now, he couldn’t even imagine a life without Vivian and their child.

“I’m always home so late, I never get to see her awake,” he murmured with a hint of regret.

Their daughter’s eyes were the same shade of violet as his. But since he always returned late at night, she was already fast asleep, and he hardly got the chance to see them.

“Well, Father said he’d help out with your work. You can leave a bit later tomorrow, right?”

Armin chuckled slightly. He loved this side of Vivian—somewhat timid, yet completely uninhibited. She often voiced thoughts that would never even occur to someone like him, raised under strict discipline as the heir to a dukedom.

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Just say you overslept. Everyone makes mistakes now and then. Besides, I’ve been thinking…”

Vivian placed her hands on Armin’s face, gently turning it toward her so that he looked at her directly. Her crimson gaze was unwavering and sincere. And yet, what came out of her mouth always caught him off guard. Even after years together, his wife remained a mystery—fresh, unpredictable, and fascinating.

“It’s only hard the first time, you know?”

“What is?”

“The first time. That’s the hardest. The second time is easier.”

She nodded confidently.

“You’re too diligent, Armin. That’s the problem.”

She knew he was busy—his father had told her. Armin was doing far more than what was normally expected of him in the noble assembly.

“People who are good at their jobs are always the ones who get overworked. But look at me.”

She clapped her hands loudly for emphasis—startling Maria, who whimpered and stirred. Startled, Vivian quickly clamped her mouth shut and continued in a much softer voice.

“Look at me. I laze around every day, and no one says a word.”

Vivian’s motto was to live simply in a complicated world—enjoying life to its fullest, since we only get one. That said, it wasn’t as though she truly did nothing. Her work in publishing had grown to the point it was shaping a national literary foundation. With bestselling novels being exported abroad, the business brought in enormous profit.

Vivian now put on her serious face as she resumed persuading him.

“Fast horses are the ones that get hitched to more carriages. Isn’t that right?”

Probably no one but her could compare the heir of House Grey to a carriage-pulling horse. Her wild analogy made the exhausted Armin burst out laughing despite himself.

“You’re calling me a horse?”

“A good one! A racehorse, even. At least a racehorse gets to rest after reaching the finish line. You’ve been doing way too much. It’s time to rest.”

Her cheeks puffed up in frustration. Back when she was a clueless homebody who had no idea about the outside world, she imagined life as a noble was all parties and leisure. As the daughter of a viscount, she had lived comfortably, and thought the children of dukes must be even more spoiled.

But this—what good was a wealthy family if even after a daughter is born, her father can’t find time to be with her?

“Just listen to me. Tomorrow, you’re taking a break. No excuses. Look at your cheeks—completely sunken in.”

“That’s…”

“If you don’t take a break tomorrow,” she warned, “then I’m taking Maria and going to my parents’ house. I might stay for a month or so, who knows?”

There was a slight problem with Vivian’s threat—her nephew, Jace, had just been born a month ago at her parents’ house, making it a less-than-ideal place to take Maria. But she said it anyway, just to make her point.

Armin’s expression instantly grew serious at her words.

“That’s not happening.”

“Well, it’s not okay for me either. The baby’s father is so busy with work that he leaves me and our child all alone every day. It’s heartbreaking.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know. So what are you going to do?”

It was practically a threat, and a very effective one. If he made the mistake of trying to reason with Vivian now, she might truly follow through—and he could only imagine what sort of chaos would follow.

Armin thought it over. Maybe it really was time for a break. Work was hectic, yes, but since his father had offered to help, he should be able to manage the tasks he’d brought home tonight without much trouble.

“Alright,” he said, surrendering at last.

Only then did Vivian flash a triumphant smile and release his cheek.

“Maria’s a lucky girl. Tomorrow, her dad’s staying home with her.”

But when she looked into the crib, her expression suddenly changed to surprise.

“Armin! Look at this!”

He already had. Before Vivian even spoke, Armin had noticed their daughter—wide awake, quietly staring up at them from the crib.

They say a newborn’s face changes day by day. When she was first born, he’d thought her eyes were exactly the same violet shade as his. But in the days he hadn’t seen her, they had subtly changed—now there was a trace of Vivian’s crimson hue, creating a strange and beautiful blend.

“See?”

Vivian nudged him, as if reading his thoughts.

“You already feel like you’ve missed too much, don’t you? All those days of Maria you didn’t get to see. Don’t regret it any more—tomorrow, you’re really taking the day off. Promise?”

Maria stared up at her father, and then suddenly broke into joyful giggles.

“Baa! Kyah!”

She flailed her arms and legs in glee, then, just as suddenly, began to pout—like the world was ending. A second later, fat tears rolled down her cheeks and she let out a loud wail.

“Waaah!”

Vivian had seen it a dozen times a day, but for Armin, it was his first. Maria, still a newborn, didn’t sleep through the night and woke every few hours crying like this. Armin stood there, frozen and unsure what to do, until Vivian pushed him forward with a laugh.

“Well, go on. Pick her up. You’re her dad.”

Vivian could have calmed her easily, but she wanted Armin to experience it too. With clumsy hands, he scooped Maria up into his arms.

When she was asleep, it was easy to hold her. But this—this was different. She was wailing, squirming, flailing. Armin was terrified he might drop her or hurt her by accident.

He quickly carried her over to the bed. At least if he lost his grip there, the soft mattress would protect her.

After several awkward readjustments, Maria’s cries finally began to settle. She kept wriggling, clearly not satisfied—it wasn’t the soft, familiar body of her mother. But eventually, she seemed to accept it. This wasn’t so bad, either.

Armin gently patted her back as he held her, and after a while, the only sound left in the room was her soft, sleepy breathing.

“You did great,” Vivian said, giving him a thumbs-up.

Armin, who didn’t sweat even during summer sword training, now had a damp back, soaked through with nervous perspiration.

***

The next day.

Just as Vivian had urged, Armin announced that he would be taking the day off to rest at home. But after giving notice, a faint sense of unease crept in.

As his father had mentioned, the noble council was going through a particularly busy season. By midmorning, Armin found himself considering whether he should take back his words and start getting ready to head out. He worried he might be tarnishing the Grey family name by staying behind.

But by the time afternoon came and no urgent message had arrived, Armin decided to accept Vivian’s words. The saying about fast horses pulling more carriages—perhaps there was truth to it. Even if he stepped away for a day, there were still plenty of capable talents at the noble council who could take on the work.

Noticing the slightly hollow look on his face, Vivian pretended not to and casually spoke.

“Duke Grey should be competent, yes, but he should also know how to trust others and wait. True ability lies in placing the right person in the right role.”

“Like how Father chose Sasha.”

“Exactly. After that, things got easier for him, and Sasha gained a chance to prove himself. Everyone came out happier, didn’t they?”

Armin nodded, unable to take his eyes off Maria as she giggled at the spinning mobile above her.

Vivian was right. Completely right.

“I married a very clever woman.”

“You’re only realizing that now?”

“Watching Maria is far more meaningful than any job at the council.”

Work at the noble council could be taken over by someone else. But no one could take his place in witnessing Maria’s everyday growth.

“Her eye color has changed a little.”

“Really? I haven’t noticed anything.”

“You see her every day—that’s probably why. But I’m sure of it. Her eyes have changed. It’s a beautiful shade, like your red mixed in with mine.”

“Ha, good. I was honestly a little disappointed that her hair and eye color were all Armin’s.”

Though her big eyes and chubby cheeks resembled Vivian’s perfectly, the features that stood out more were the ones inherited from her husband.

“Sitting like this makes me curious about something.”

“What is it?”

“You said you saw them in a dream—my father, mother, and you.”

“We’ll have to wait until she’s a bit older to be sure, but I’m convinced the child I saw in that dream was Maria.”

That little girl who had flailed her tiny legs while reading with her father, nestled in his arms.

Platinum hair and violet eyes—the hallmarks of the Grey family.

“Then who was the boy I saw in my dream?”

Unlike his visions of his parents or Vivian, the image of a boy with pink hair lingered in his mind, unsettled and unresolved.

“Maybe it was just stress? I mean, pink hair? There’s only one person around us like that.”

Pink-tinged silver hair was the trademark of the imperial family.

But the boy Armin had seen didn’t feel like he belonged to the palace.

In the end, he never figured out who that boy was.

And six years later, by pure chance, Armin would meet the boy in person.

But by then, he had long since forgotten that dream—and so, he failed to recognize him.