Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – The Baptism Ceremony

Aidan’s baptism ceremony was held when he was eleven months old—barely shy of his first birthday.

The novel had never explained why it happened so late. Normally, baptisms were performed around the hundredth day after birth. Perhaps they had waited for Cynthia Pencilnia’s recovery… or perhaps the original Cynthia had simply refused to attend until the last possible moment.

Whatever the reason, in the story Cynthia returned home immediately after Aidan’s baptism concluded at the temple. Lias Pencilnia remained behind and intended to bring Aidan home by carriage.

However, Aidan cried incessantly whenever near him, so Lias didn’t ride in the carriage at all. He avoided it and returned separately on horseback.

It was during this time that the carriage was attacked by those seeking the Light Magic his bloodline might possess. Upon seeing Aidan’s brown eyes, the assailants grew furious that he did not possess the rare golden eyes. Their frustration turned violent, and the nanny—caught in their rage—was killed on the spot.

Aidan had not even reached his first birthday, yet the memory burned itself vividly into him. Just when he was about to be thrown aside, a knight finally arrived and rescued him. The emotional scars, however, ran deep.

—My earliest memory is the blood-soaked corpse of the woman I believed was my mother lying before me.

That was how the story began.

How dark.

Why did that girl lend me something this depressing to read?

But more importantly—

Light Magic was truly rare—its healing potential unmatched by any regular healer. Only one or two people in an entire generation ever possessed it. That was why the Pencilnia Ducal Estate was guarded with layer upon layer of knights.

Cynthia herself had never once stepped into town. From childhood she had been told that assassins lurked everywhere outside, seeking her life. And within the palace she always had everything provided—no need to go anywhere at all.

“Baptism…”

Her small whisper prompted Maia, who had been at her side, to gently squeeze her hand.

“Master Aidan is only nine months old, my lady. You still have three months left.”

Cynthia wondered what Maia thought she was worried about.

Surely she knew how much Cynthia cared for Aidan.

Was Maia concerned that Cynthia wouldn’t physically endure the ceremony?

Or perhaps she was worried because the baptism was a public event—Aidan’s attribute would be revealed to society as the Earth Affinity of the Pencilnia line, not the rare Light.

Or maybe she thought Cynthia dreaded going out together with Lias.

“What are you worried about, Maia?”

“I worry only for my lady’s health. Nothing else.”

Her firm tone made Cynthia laugh softly.

“I’m all right. Thank you.”

“Truly? After meeting the Duke, you always…”

That was true. After every encounter with Lias, Cynthia would rage. Anything in the room that could be destroyed was destroyed—ripped apart or thrown to the floor.

She no longer had the strength for that, and simply seeing his face didn’t provoke the same disgust anymore.

Well—she still felt anger.

He was a terrible husband.

But husbands weren’t easily replaceable. And… he was handsome.

The kind of breathtakingly handsome that made one wonder how such a face existed in this world—

—No, no, no. What am I thinking?

As she shook her head vigorously, Maia peered at her with renewed concern.

Why had the original Cynthia despised Lias so fiercely? Did she simply need somewhere to direct her anger?

Her mother had died giving birth to her younger brother. Cynthia had been five at the time.

Since then, Maia had practically been her substitute mother.

“I’m fine, Maia. I need to regain my strength before the baptism ceremony.”

“Yes, my lady.”

If only she could use Light Magic on herself.

She could—but because the power was spent from her own reserves, self-healing would drain her body significantly. Ultimately the recovery rate was the same. No one normally used Light Magic on themselves unless desperate.

“Maybe I should try drinking that suspicious medicine…”

A tonic said to improve strength was served with every meal. It looked like muddy water with moss floating in it and tasted even worse. After one sip that nearly killed her, she had refused it ever since.

Still, surely no one would poison the Duchess of Pencilnia.

“It would be best if you did, my lady. That medicine is so rare even His Majesty struggles to obtain it.”

The more Maia explained, the more suspicious it sounded.

“Well, once I can sit upright all day, I’ll try. The ceremony is long.”

“Yes.”

Strategy would mean nothing without physical strength.

And so her personal “recovery month” began.

In the end, waiting for the physician’s approval brought them right to Aidan’s eleven-month mark. She had hoped to schedule it earlier, but there was no helping it.

Thanks to that questionable tonic, she improved enough to walk through the garden. She still sometimes grew feverish at night, but compared to before, it was miraculous.

No pain. No exhaustion.

Health was wonderful. Youth was glorious.

“Aidan, come here!”

From where he had been playing in the dirt, Aidan turned.

He could walk now—no, run. Before turning one.

The Pencilnia bloodline was known for early muscular development, apparently. Even though Aidan was still soft and chubby, Cynthia could feel the beginnings of muscle beneath that baby fluff.

Growing so fast… it was a little lonely.

Once he started walking, Aidan could no longer be contained. Faster than expected, drawn by every new curiosity, he went dashing around the garden.

“Mm! —nn!”

Aidan held out his tiny fist. Cynthia extended her hand to receive—

A flower, a stone, and… a bug.

“Hh—ah, thank you…”

At her thanks, Aidan bowed deeply.

Whenever someone said “thank you,” he bowed. Adorable.

She had accidentally taught him that during their playtime. Maia had nearly fainted—because a duchess and her son bowing was unthinkable.

But it was cute.

Cynthia gently stroked Aidan’s satisfied little face.

“Ai-tan, tomorrow we’re going out together.”

“Bu, bu.”

“Buu~? Oh, the carriage? Yes, we’ll ride the carriage. Rattle, rattle.”

“Nai!”

“No ‘no,’ we are going.”

She twisted the flower into a tiny ring.

“Nai!”

“We’re going together. Look, a ring.”

She slipped it onto his pudgy finger.

Aidan became fascinated immediately, and Cynthia discreetly disposed of the bug.

“Papa is coming too.”

She patted his head. Soft baby hair brushed her fingers.

A peaceful moment—until she saw an unfamiliar carriage and unfamiliar men at the far end of the estate.

Lias had returned for the ceremony. It had been three months since the last time.

Even when he returned, they lived in separate rooms, barely seeing one another. And he never came to see Aidan.

Basically… It was a complete separation.

A divorce-worthy situation.

Cynthia sighed deeply.

“Haa—”

Aidan copied her exactly.

“Oh no, oh no. Happiness escapes when we sigh. Inhale—inhale!”

“Su—u.”

He imitated her, and she hugged him tight midway through.

The next day.

The carriage held Cynthia, Aidan, and the nanny. Maia stayed behind because Cynthia placed a knight beside the nanny, and the carriage seated only four.

Besides, Maia’s back had been hurting recently. In an emergency, she wouldn’t be able to move. Although Cynthia herself wasn’t exactly ready for sprinting either.

Ideally, Lias should have been in the carriage. But he was already on horseback before Cynthia even stepped outside.

So eager? Like a child excited for a field trip?

A dry laugh escaped her. Their eyes met briefly before he looked away.

Lias—the man with looks and absolutely nothing else.

She exhaled and boarded the carriage.

She had spent weeks arranging the perfect knight formation.

“Please take care of us today, Lord Orencia.”

“Yes, my lady. Even at the cost of my life.”

He placed a hand on his chest. Dramatic—but perhaps appropriate.

Cynthia had ordered him to abandon everything and flee with Aidan if anything happened. She chose him not for his swordsmanship but for his speed—having seen him run across the training grounds with heavy loads. Well, he was skilled with a sword too, being part of the Pencilnia Knight Order.

And importantly, Aidan was comfortable with him.

She had spent the last month making sure he stayed close as Aidan’s guard—and occasional playmate.

“Ma, ma.”

“Yes, come here. Sit now, it’s dangerous.”

The carriage jolted as it began moving.

It shook more than expected—Cynthia nearly bit her tongue.

“How much longer?”

“My lady… only five minutes have passed. The temple is almost an hour away.”

An hour. Her backside was doomed.

One hour later, they arrived.

Priests and attendants lined up to welcome them.

Lias walked ahead with Cynthia, the nanny followed carrying Aidan. Aidan cried if Lias held him, and Cynthia couldn’t walk while carrying him.

It should have been a joyous milestone—like a child’s first shrine visit. Poor Aidan.

The temple interior was built like a grand cathedral—marble floors, stained glass, a goddess statue.

The High Priest stood waiting at the altar.

“To the noble Pencilnia family—on this blessed day, it is my honor to celebrate the birth of your son.”

His calm voice echoed.

Cynthia managed to sit through the long ceremony. Aidan behaved well in the nanny’s arms.

Normally, there would be a feast afterward, or a grand party to announce the child’s birth. But that was impossible for Cynthia’s condition—they would return home immediately.

On the walk from the temple exit to the carriage, nobles visiting the temple glanced their way.

Many familiar faces—Cynthia had attended social events before marriage, after all.

“—Red.”

“His eyes…? Ah, brown.”

“So he isn’t Light…”

The murmurs reached her.

She was surprised.

Because he was her child, they were this interested?

Well… let them talk.

“The nanny is holding him.”

“Of course. Everyone knows what the princess thought of the duke.”

“And the child resembles the duke… she must be uneasy.”

Cynthia stopped abruptly and turned toward the voices.

She couldn’t tell who said it.

Did they really speak aloud so brazenly?

“What is it?”

Lias had walked a few steps ahead and turned back.

“Did you not hear them?”

“Gossip is beneath your concern.”

He said it as if accustomed to it.

But such things could one day reach a child’s ears.

Rumors that his parents despised each other—that he was unwanted—could wound him deeply.

“I found it unpleasant. And you?”

“Shall I punish whoever spoke?”

His tone suggested that one word from her would be enough. He sounded like a subordinate, not a husband.

The nobles looked away quickly whenever she met their eyes—but the moment she turned away, they stared boldly.

She wanted to say more, but arguing here would only feed the rumor mill.

Fatigue washed over her, dizziness followed. As she pressed her hand to her head, Lias stepped closer.

“You look pale. Shall I call a knight?”

“Why a knight?”

“To carry you.”

His expression was tense. The watching nobles held curious gazes.

“Wouldn’t it be simpler… if you supported me?”

“—…What?”

For once, Lias looked genuinely flustered.

“Is it… permissible to touch you?”

“Do you need permission to touch your own wife?”

Then she remembered the words the original Cynthia had spat at him—

Don’t touch me, filthy. Lay a finger on me and I’ll bite my tongue and die.

Oh… right.

“Ah… I said that, didn’t I. I take it back. I’m sorry. Please lend me your hand. I truly can’t walk anymore.”

Lias froze.

Of course—after being rejected for so long, this must have felt sudden.

At last he approached. Cynthia reached out—

—But he didn’t take her hand.

Instead, he lifted her into his arms.

“—Kyah!?”

A strange sound escaped her.

He was carrying her. In a full bridal-style hold.

“E-excuse me…”

“You granted permission.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“You look as if you could collapse any moment. I will take you to the carriage.”

Being held, his voice rumbled through her. And he carried her so effortlessly.

Her face heated, and she covered it.

“I must be heavy. Just supporting me would’ve been—”

“You are light as a feather.”

He walked steadily, not strained in the slightest.

A feather? Hardly.

“Is it so unbearable you must hide your face? We will be there soon.”

Unbearable? It was embarrassing, yes, but not unbearable.

She peeked up—

He was beautiful.

Would Aidan grow up to look like this?

Would he call her “Mother” with this face?

Wonderful.

Just imagining it made her heart flutter.

Her tension melted away, and leaning against his broad chest felt surprisingly comfortable.