Became Pregnant With the Demon King’s Child

From about a month before Choco’s death, Eunoh had rarely left the house. The fear that if he took his eyes off Choco for even a moment, he might lose his beloved companion and be left alone on the planet—it clung to him constantly. The aging dog would occasionally have accidents or even bite him, not recognizing who he was.
“It’s okay.”
Even that didn’t bother Eunoh. He knew it was selfish, but he felt like as long as Choco stayed alive, everything else would be fine. But partings always came without fail.

Choco, you’re in a good mood today, huh? You’re eating well, and you went to the bathroom just fine too. I wish you were this well-behaved every day.
Choco, who would usually have to be coaxed and begged just to eat a few bites, finished his food that day without even being told. Eunoh showered him with kisses, praising him over and over. After finishing a short walk in Eunoh’s arms, Choco sat down by Eunoh’s thigh and fell asleep.
“Sleep well.”

That was the last goodbye. When Eunoh woke from a deep sleep for the first time in a while, he found Choco’s lifeless body. During the funeral, Eunoh didn’t cry. Not because he wasn’t sad—his chest felt carved out, and he could hardly breathe—but the tears simply wouldn’t come. Maybe it was because, deep down, he knew [N O V E L I G H T] that even if he cried, no one would be there to witness it out on the endless ocean.
His tears stayed quietly sealed within his body.
“Stop showing me.”

Memories he thought he’d overcome were unspooling like exhibits in a gallery, tearing at Lowell again. The multiplication table he used to recite to keep from going mad was useless in the dream. His head was too foggy to calculate properly now.
The more he tried to force the calculations, the more vicious the dream became. Now, it had shifted to when Eunoh had just entered university. The person in front of him was a classmate rumored to date anyone, regardless of gender.
—Wanna go out with me?

—Why?
—You’re good-looking… but you look lonely?
Eunoh didn’t think long before answering.

—Okay.
It wasn’t like he suddenly fell for someone he’d only met a few times. But just having someone recognize his loneliness made him feel oddly liberated. It felt like having a lover might chip away at some of that isolation.
—Should we break up?

But the breakup came just as abruptly. Eunoh had prepared for their date with care, like always. They hadn’t even fought. The question came out casually over a meal.
—Why? Did I do something wrong?
Eunoh was caught off guard but surprisingly calm. The other person gave him a look as if they’d expected this and said:
—I thought I could handle your loneliness. But I feel like I’m catching it instead. I did like you, but I guess not enough to carry that weight too.

Then, with an awkward smile, they added:
—You didn’t like me that much either, right? So it’s fine?
—Yeah. If that’s what you want, let’s do that.

Truthfully, he wasn’t that fine. He hadn’t loved them with all his heart, but he had thought being with them was comfortable. It was what people called attachment. And for someone lonely, attachment came far too easily. He was just someone who’d learned to act like he was okay.
The breakups that came after varied only in dramatic flair. Most happened after three or four months. And what his partners said was always more or less the same.
—You’re better when there’s some distance between us.

—I don’t feel loved by you.
—I left because you couldn’t fulfill me. Don’t make it sound like this is all my fault.
“Why…?”

Now Lowell understood what Felix had meant when he said he cried out in the nightmare. That whispered resentment hadn’t been directed at anyone. He was simply asking: Why is it that the ones I give my heart to always leave… while the ones I want to give it to end up abandoning me?
There had even been someone who had loved Eunoh obsessively. They hadn’t wanted to be apart for a second and begged him to date them, claiming they’d never leave—not even in death. And yet, in the end, they left him too.
Those light breakups didn’t leave a scratch on Eunoh. But every time he was left behind, another lock formed around his heart. They didn’t just block others out—they blocked himself from seeing inside, too.

Ironically, the more locks he set, the more cheerful and affectionate he could pretend to be. The most private, vulnerable parts stayed hidden, while he gave away the rest freely. It was the same as how people could hand out cheap things without worry—because they held no real value.
This trait only intensified once he started working.
—You seem more outgoing since becoming a counselor. Maybe it’s the influence of your clients?

—I can’t talk to people who seem happy, but you’re different. I wonder why. Have you ever been depressed?
—I’ve never met someone as kind as you before.
The core of him hadn’t changed, but Eunoh had grown skilled at acting like he was fine. Listening to others’ pain, helping them work through their mental struggles—he tricked himself into thinking it was healing him, too.

He never knew what was rotting away behind the locked door.
It was only after becoming Lowell that he found himself inside that room, through the path of a dream. The tears Eunoh had never shed had festered into something foul. Lowell held his breath and began walking forward without thinking.
—Lowell.

Lowell had been walking quickly when he realized he’d reached the edge of the nightmare. Because he heard a voice—a voice that could never exist in Eunoh’s world.
“Felix.”
Turning around, feeling like he could finally breathe, Lowell froze. Felix’s face looked exactly like all those who had said goodbye to him in the past.

—You’re a hollow person.
Felix calmly voiced the truth Lowell had tried so desperately to keep hidden. Lowell couldn’t even reach out to stop him from leaving.
“Why am I only ever this much?”

This time, it was a question with a target. It was directed at himself. Why was he always just himself? He’d tried to improve, tried to act like a good person—but in the end, it was just that: an act.
Of course I couldn’t imprint.
Lowell now understood why he had been avoiding imprinting. He’d wanted to leave himself a way out.

Subconsciously, I must have believed that if Felix ever saw my real self, he’d feel disgusted.
A fear he hadn’t even realized was there had been crouching inside him all along. The nightmare, like a broken record, kept replaying the moment Felix left. It was like watching the future on loop, and he couldn’t see any way out of this hell.
Can I really overcome this?

Half resigned to the nightmare, Lowell slumped to the ground. Without the will to keep trying, he figured he’d wake up when the time came. Expressionless, he sat still. Time lost all meaning.
Then, he heard a song.
Did I imagine that?

It was so faint and quiet that Lowell doubted his ears. But the melody didn’t fade. It grew clearer, and began to shake the nightmare apart.
Baby, may you dream well. Lowell, may you have happy dreams…
The lyrics gradually became distinct. And Lowell immediately knew whose voice it was. It wasn’t the Felix from this twisted dream—standing there ending things. It was the real Felix, in the waking world. The dream that had tormented Lowell crumbled beneath the tender melody. That solid nightmare—collapsed by something as simple as a lullaby.

The will he had lost slowly lifted its head.
“Felix… are you there?”
Rising slowly, Lowell stepped forward, leaving the crumbling dream behind, following the sound. Just before he escaped completely, he turned to look back. What he expected to be a horrific scene had unexpectedly returned to normal.

Is he… smiling?
He caught a glimpse of Eunoh’s face, smiling beside someone. The light had made him squint, turning it into a blur. He wanted to see more clearly, but Felix’s voice tugged at his ears.
“Lowell, the fairy will erase your nightmare.”

Lowell turned forward again and stepped out of the dream.
The first thing he saw upon opening his eyes was Felix, solemnly singing a lullaby. The sight was so absurd that Lowell couldn’t help but laugh. The terror from his dream suddenly felt like a lie.
“Why are you laughing?”

“It’s the first time I’ve seen someone sing a lullaby with such a serious face.”
“It’s the first time I’ve sung one.”
Felix cleared his throat and looked away from Lowell, clearly embarrassed.

And yet… he still sang it for me.
Just so Lowell wouldn’t have another nightmare.
“I didn’t think you’d really do it.”

Still drowsy, Lowell murmured as he closed his eyes. Felix, seeing how exhausted he looked, held him tighter and whispered with concern.
“You were really struggling tonight. Having two nightmares in one night—couldn’t that mean something serious?”
“But thanks to you, I’m okay now. Will you sing to me again sometime?”

“I’d rather you didn’t have nightmares to begin with.”
“Of course.”
Lowell chuckled softly and slowly opened his eyes to meet Felix’s gaze.

“Felix.”
“If there’s something you want to say, just say it.”
“I think… it might take me some time to imprint on you.”

Felix fell silent, fully focusing on the sudden shift in topic. Lowell continued in a quiet, sorrowful voice.
“I wish I were as brave as you.”
“You don’t have to imprint on me. Not if it’s hard for you.”

Felix said it didn’t matter—even if he had to bear the discomfort alone. Lowell didn’t want to leave him like that. But he didn’t share those feelings aloud. He knew Felix wouldn’t want to burden him either.
“The sun’s rising.”
Lowell turned his head toward the window to hide his expression and murmured:

“It’s morning now.”
The snowy mountains sparkled under the sunlight. It was a sight so beautiful, it made his heart ache.