Became Pregnant With the Demon King’s Child

"Do you dislike the idea of becoming the Crown Princess, Robin?"
"Excuse me? It’s not that, it’s just… I don’t think I’m suited for the role. Either in status or personality."

Robin was a royal servant, so technically part of the nobility. But he lacked far too much to be considered a viable candidate for Crown Princess—and he knew it better than anyone. He had never resented his social standing, but the mere thought of standing beside the Crown Prince made his vision go dark.
"That sort of thing doesn’t really matter."
Lowell spoke clearly enough that it came off as firm, even to a worry-stricken Robin.

"Sorry?"
"Is His Highness the kind of person who insists on doing things he can’t?"
"No, not at all."

"Then if he says he’ll make you the Crown Princess, that means it’s something he can do. And he’s probably already preparing to handle whatever risks come with it. Don’t you think so?"
"That… does sound like him. He’s capable at everything."
The Crown Prince’s competence was undeniable, but Lowell couldn’t help thinking Robin was utterly blinded by infatuation.

"So just set aside all those external concerns. What actually matters is this—do you want to be by his side, or not?"
"But if I do that, I’ll become his one and only stain."
You already are—personality-wise, Lowell thought privately, so why worry about just one stain? But he didn’t say it aloud. Robin hadn’t come here to hear bad things about someone he liked.

"Then ask yourself: do you want to stay by his side even if you’re a stain, or would you rather leave so you aren’t one? Not that he’ll necessarily let you go."
That was a decision Lowell couldn’t make for him.
"Try not to overthink it. It’s not like I’m a proper match for the Grand Duke either, but I’m shamelessly living here just fine, aren’t I?"

Even if he couldn’t solve the problem, he could at least make it feel a little simpler. At Lowell’s teasing tone, Robin finally burst into the clear, bright smile he usually wore. Strictly speaking, their situations weren’t really comparable—but still.
"Thank you."
"It was nothing. It’s not like I actually helped with anything."

Lowell meant that sincerely, not as a show of modesty.
"People always say words can save a person, right? And besides, you saved me from getting hurt earlier. Today’s been full of things to be grateful for."
"Anyone else would’ve done the same. You even fell into the lake in my place."
Robin shrugged and glanced over at Lowell, who was staring off into the distance. For some reason, this beautiful and gentle man looked a little lonely.

"Lowell, I think you’re a truly kind and good person."
The sun had fully set, and stars now dotted the sky. Lowell had lifted his head to look up at them, but his breath kept fogging up his vision.
"That’s only because you are kind enough to see me that way."

"What! Why would you say that? Anyone else would see it too, not just me!"
Robin responded brightly, as if the weight on his heart had finally lifted. Lowell was relieved that Robin seemed to bounce back quickly from things.
"Anyone can say the right things. I only act like a good person because I can’t actually be one. If that helped you even a little, then I guess it wasn’t a bad thing."

Lowell regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Maybe it was because he’d been thinking about this so much lately—or because Robin made him feel a strange kind of inferiority—but he’d let it slip.
"Even if you’re just pretending to be a good person, I still think that’s okay. Because to me, you are a good person!"
"...What?"

"Honestly, from my perspective, I can’t even tell the difference. Unless you’re pretending to be good while secretly doing bad things behind someone’s back—if all you do is act like a good person and that’s it, then how is that different from actually being one? If anything, the fact that you’re trying makes you even more amazing. So have a little more confidence, Lowell!"
Lowell stared at Robin, lips slightly parted, caught completely off guard. Robin was pointing out something very specific: that Lowell was being too unforgiving toward himself.
"You think I’m a kind person, right, Lowell?"

"Yes."
"That’s probably because you’re not me. You’re judging based on my actions. But when you evaluate yourself, you take your thoughts into account too. That’s why you’re harsher. You don’t know what other people are thinking—but you do know your own thoughts!"
Robin had a point. In truth, Lowell already knew what he said was logically correct. But hearing it from someone like Robin—someone he’d always thought of as kind and ideal—made something inside Lowell stir unexpectedly.

The fog that had been rising from Lowell’s breath stopped for a moment.
"Thank you for saying that."
A wind blew gently over his doubt in himself, the belief that he didn’t deserve love, and the loneliness he’d tried to cover up by acting like someone better. It was small, but something in him began to erode.

Maybe… maybe I really am a little kind. Maybe this version of me I’ve created isn’t completely fake after all.
The thought came out of nowhere, but it soothed him deeply.
"I only told the truth! Oh—His Grace is coming outside."

Robin nodded toward the front of the ducal castle. Felix, who looked like he’d rushed out the moment he heard they were outside, had been frowning—until he spotted Lowell and his expression eased.
"Felix!"
By the time he reached Lowell, Felix was practically running. They hadn’t even been apart for long, but the longing in his movements was obvious. As Felix draped his coat around him, Lowell gathered his scattered feelings.

For some reason, he felt like he could love Felix even more now than before.
That night, Lowell had a truly blissful dream. In it, he sat with Felix in the greenhouse, basking in the sunlight. In Felix’s arms was a child—still blurry, but growing clearer.
***

A week after the Crown Prince left, peace seemed to return to the ducal castle. The only notable event was that a tailor was scheduled to arrive.
"I’m hungry."
Until Lowell suddenly declared this while reading.

"It’s not even lunchtime yet. Did your hunger spike early? If there’s something you want, just say the word."
"Ah, it’s not that… I’m not actually hungry."
"But you just said you were? You don’t have to hold back, you know."

In truth, he wasn’t really hungry.
Not exactly hunger—more like a craving?
Lowell glanced down at his noticeably protruding belly, one he could no longer ignore, and smacked his lips.

I want something spicy. Something rich, something that makes you go “Aah!” the moment it hits your tongue.
Just thinking about spicy food made his mouth water.
Kimchi stew sounds good. Or gamjatang. Ooh, dak-galbi sounds amazing too.

Every dish he thought of was something he couldn’t eat right now. He shook his head, telling himself not to think of food he couldn’t even look at—but once the thought had entered his head, it wouldn’t go away.
He never thought of himself as having a big appetite, but right now, he felt like he could do anything if it meant getting just one of those dishes.
"Lowell? What is it you want to eat?"

Felix gave him a worried look when Lowell went completely quiet after saying he was hungry.
"I want spicy food."
Lowell, while fantasizing about all kinds of Korean dishes, gave a vague answer aloud. Truthfully, no matter what Felix brought, it probably wouldn’t satisfy his cravings.

Should I just make it myself?
He had lived alone for a long time, so he knew how to cook. The problem was that none of the ingredients here were familiar.
"I’ll have them prepare something right away."

Felix, treating Lowell’s craving like the most urgent matter in the world, gave the servants detailed instructions.
Maybe if it’s spicy enough, it’ll hit the spot. I’ll at least give their version a try and decide after that.
Lowell tapped his feet and imagined what might show up for lunch. Even though he tried not to expect much, he was getting excited.

"Your meal is ready."
It was still a little early for lunch—probably rushed per Felix’s order. As Lowell practically danced his way to the dining room, Felix fought back a smile. But that joy faded with every dish that arrived.
"Beef and potato stew."

Lowell glared at the stew on his table like it had personally wronged him. It was red, sure, but the smell was completely off. He brought a spoonful to his mouth.
This is paprika powder.
It was nothing like the sharp heat of chili powder. There was definitely a bit of spice, but not nearly enough for Lowell’s taste.

Calling this “spicy” is an insult to actual spicy food.
His legs, which had been swinging happily under the table, now dangled limp with disappointment. Felix’s expression turned cold as he watched.