Became Pregnant With the Demon King’s Child

Tia could tell that Lowell was significantly distressed about the one-sided imprinting between him and Felix. Considering she’d seen him whispering to himself that it was his fault the day Felix returned—burdened by guilt—it would have been stranger not to notice. But lying about it would have been pointless; the man in front of her would immediately sense it. It was better to speak honestly.
“I imagine it must hurt.”
“It does, doesn’t it?”

Lowell set down the clothes he had been about to put on and let out a deep sigh. When he lowered his gaze, his long eyelashes fluttered. He looked so pitiful that even though Tia knew full well he was a strong-willed man, she still couldn’t help but feel anxious.
“But I hope you won’t feel guilty about something like that. Anyone in love would hope the person they love isn’t suffering.”
That was why Tia added words she wouldn’t have bothered saying to anyone else.

“Thank you for saying that. I really do try not to show how I feel, but it’s hard to hide it. Please don’t tell Lord Felix I asked you this.”
Keeping secrets from one’s master was unacceptable for a knight—but something like this wouldn’t be a major issue. Felix himself had ordered that, except in matters related to safety, Lowell’s wishes were to be prioritized.
“Unless His Highness asks directly, I’ll keep silent.”

“Thank you.”
However, not long after, Lowell came to realize—through a way he never expected—why he hadn’t been able to imprint.
“Lowell, wake up.”

It was one of the nights he had fallen asleep with Felix, as always. The urgency of the hand shaking him made Lowell think something serious had happened. He immediately opened his eyes and sat up.
“What’s wrong?”
Felix was looking down at him, worry clouding his eyes. Once Lowell fully came to, he looked around, but nothing in the room seemed out of place. It was still the middle of the night. No signs of intrusion, and the world beyond the window remained quiet.

Why did he wake me?
Lowell blinked, confused, staring at Felix’s face. Felix’s brows were furrowed as usual, but he soon relaxed his expression. His lips opened and closed repeatedly. Then, letting out a sigh like a deflating balloon, he gently brushed Lowell’s sweat-drenched hair back.
“You were having a nightmare.”

“A nightmare?”
Lowell tilted his head, trying to remember. He hadn’t even realized he’d been dreaming. No matter how hard he tried to recall, he couldn’t grasp what the dream had been about.
“Yes. You mumble in your sleep now and then, but tonight it was especially bad. You cried, asking why something was happening.”
Instinctively, Lowell raised a hand to his face. It really was damp around his eyes—just as Felix said. And though he hadn’t noticed it earlier in his surprise, his body was drenched in cold sweat, and his jaw ached slightly as if he’d clenched his teeth too hard.

Felix wouldn’t lie about something like this. The strange part is that I don’t remember the dream at all.
Silence drifted through the dark. Lowell tried to recall the faces of people he had every right to resent—those who had cheated on him, and the lover who had betrayed him in the end. Under normal circumstances, they were the ones he might have blamed. But the endings with them hadn’t been all that tragic. Of course, it had been hard at the time, but that was it.
It wasn’t the kind of thing I’d dream about. Even if we dated, I wasn’t that emotionally invested.

More accurately, every time he tried to grow attached, something bad would happen.
I guess it’s no wonder none of them got attached to me, either. One of them even said that being with me felt lonelier—that I was just a hollow shell pretending to be human.
Once his thoughts got that far, Lowell gave up trying to remember. His head felt sluggish from not being fully awake. Overthinking things in the middle of the night was never helpful. He’d mull it over in the morning with a clearer head.

“Sorry for waking you. I don’t remember what the nightmare was, but if I forgot it already, it couldn’t have been that important. Should we go back to sleep?”
“For someone supposedly unfazed, you looked pretty tormented.”
“Still, we can’t stay up all night.”

Lowell smiled faintly and soothed Felix with a calm face. Even though he was the one who had the nightmare, it was Felix who looked more distressed. Not wanting to see the man he loved hurting, Lowell raised the corners of his lips playfully.
“I feel like I won’t have nightmares if you sing me a lullaby, Felix.”
“A lullaby?”

Felix let out a bewildered laugh at the joke. Seeing him smile at last, Lowell grinned back in satisfaction.
“I was just kidding. But if you ever want to hear one, let me know. I’ll sing for you anytime.”
“That’s—no, wait.”

Felix had almost said, “Forget it, I’m not a child,” but stopped himself. He imagined what Lowell would look like while singing. Lowell’s voice was already as clear as a bird’s chirp—how lovely would it be to hear him sing?
“Sing for me later. Your voice hasn’t fully recovered yet.”
“Just so you know, I’m not terrible at singing, but I’m not exactly great either.”

Felix nodded, thinking that even if Lowell sang completely off-key, he would still find it pleasant to hear.
“Alright. For now, drink some tea—it’ll help you sleep better.”
But unfortunately, Lowell had another nightmare that night. The only difference was—this time, he remembered exactly what it was.

***
The dream’s setting was the world he had once lived in, now so unfamiliar it felt strange. Like an out-of-body experience, Lowell watched the scene from above, detached and confused.
This is the most vivid dream I’ve ever had.

Even though he knew it was a dream, he didn’t wake. Might as well watch, he thought. As he looked down, the silent film of the dream gained sound.
—It’s your birthday today. Is there anything you want?
It was Lowell’s—no, Eunoh’s—mother. With that alone, Lowell immediately realized what this was, and why it was a nightmare. It was the most vivid, most weathered memory from Eunoh’s life.

No...
Lowell was seized by the urge to wake up immediately, or to somehow silence his high school self. But as a disembodied spirit, he could do nothing. All he could do was suffer.
—Hmm… There’s nothing I really want. How about we just watch a movie together? I’ll skip night study today.

—Is that really enough?
What do you mean, “is that enough”…?
Eunoh had been unusually close to his parents for a high schooler. So much so that people would joke, “That family’s son is more like a daughter,” and express envy. Eunoh would always respond, “What difference does it make? Sons and daughters should both treat their parents well.”

Yeah, right. I treated them “well.”
Lowell ground his teeth and glared at the version of himself straightening his school uniform. But the scene suddenly sped up like a fast-forwarded video. Daylight passed in a blur, and the real nightmare arrived.
While waiting for his parents to pick him up, an ambulance passed in front of Eunoh.

—Why aren’t they here yet?
“Don’t just stand there like an idiot.”
Lowell’s voice didn’t reach him. It wasn’t until an hour later that Eunoh received a phone call from the hospital. His parents had been in an accident—on their way to pick him up.

—Mom! Dad!
Eunoh jumped into a taxi and raced to the hospital, but it was already too late. A drunk truck driver had hit them. His parents hadn’t been able to wait for him.
A sharp hospital disinfectant smell grazed Lowell’s nose. Even with his eyes closed, he couldn’t block the nightmare. He felt like throwing up. Not remembering would have been better.

There had to be a reason I forgot this memory...
After the funeral, Eunoh returned to an empty house and hugged their old dog.
Looks like it’s just you and me now.

The dog, old and probably uncomfortable, nestled quietly in his arms and licked his hand. It was the only comfort Eunoh had.
—Choco, let’s live together. Don’t go anywhere. Just stay with me.
There were relatives who offered to take care of Eunoh, but none were willing to take in the dog as well. To Eunoh, that dog was the last family he had left. So he chose to live alone. His aunts promised to visit weekly—but that was all. In the house where his parents no longer lived, Eunoh cried for a long time with the dog in his arms.

Choco, you have to live a long time, okay? I hear dogs live past twenty these days. You have to too.
Lowell already knew what came next. If the death of his parents taught him how sudden partings could bury people in grief, then the death of that old dog taught him how even expected partings could leave someone utterly hollow.