Kara's POV
I am Kara Ashthorn—seventeen, newly an adult, and the youngest daughter of House Ashthorn, a proud lineage of warrior-marquises.
I never had much passion for anything—just enough effort to get by, obeying those above me in the hierarchy with quiet efficiency.
"Create a competent heir with Grand Duke Abel and bring glory to our family name."
A somewhat difficult request came by—that too from the Matriarch herself, someone with whom my meetings could be counted on one hand.
A daunting task. One look at the Matriarch's grave expression told me this mission outweighed my life's worth.
I had a rare moment of reluctance built in my eyes, but the sparks of defiance left so fast it might as well have never been there to begin with.
Of course, I accepted.
I didn't need background research on Lord Abel. His name is carved into history, his stories are written in millions of words of inscriptions, whispered in every bedtime tale.
Who is Lord Abel?
From any mortal's perspective—he is a god.
The Grand Duke of the Vulcan family. One of the founding fathers of our planet, Zerra. A legendary figure who fought beside the Goddess of Humanity herself during the First Galactic Incursion, saving humankind from extinction and carrying its glory across the stars.
Ancient. Timeless. Revered.
Though no wound can break him, time has worn him. After millennia of service, he "retired" to Zerra. Yet even in retirement, he fulfills divine duties outside of combat.
One being the creation of children with superior bloodlines to serve our Goddess.
That's where I come in.
*****
Duke Abel's dukedom is vast—almost a country of its own. Many concubines, from across the world and even different worlds, arrived alongside me.
Just like me, all of them were mortals, and that's by design. The Duke does not accept awakened individuals as concubines. Only his three main wives have ever had that privilege.
Naturally, none of us concubines got to meet Lord Abel. Our role was not that of a lover; it was strictly a business transaction between our families and him.
The Duke's three main wives are the only ones of awakened ones. Concubines like us are chosen for duty, not love.
Each of us was granted an estate, attended by maids and physicians. Monitored daily. Fed strict diets. Evaluated constantly.
One night, I was informed it was my turn to spend the night with the Duke.
I was given potions to protect my mind from the overwhelming pressure of his presence.
Semi-Drugged and dazed, I remember nothing clearly—only a faint vision of the Duke's face. When I awoke, he was gone. I was alone in the sunlit chamber.
Soon after, I was informed: I was pregnant.
Seven months passed.
******
That's odd… shouldn't a pregnancy cycle last 9 months?Maybe I'm being paranoid, but there's clear panic on the faces of the doctor and nurses.
The doctors tried to calm me, but their eyes betrayed panic. A nurse stayed by my side, patting my head and whispering lies I wanted to believe.
The delivery lasted ten grueling hours. My mind spiraled to dark places—why early labor? Why the rush, the tension, the hidden fear? I clearly had daily health checkups, so why is such an emergency happening?Is it my fault?
I knew the child would be separated from me at an early age, barely remembering my face as it grew up, so I had steeled myself to not have much affection for it. Was God punishing me for abandoning my role as a mother even before birth?
In the end, all I could do was pray.
Please, Goddess—keep him safe. Let him be strong. Let him be happy. Even if he forgets me.
Then, he was born.
The nurse cleaned him with a blank expression, handing him to me wordlessly.
My child.
So small. So delicate. So adorable. All thoughts vanished. All I saw was love.
His skin and hair—pure white, like snow. An albino child. My heart ached just imagining the sunburns he may face in future.
'Oh dear, you will have a tough time playing in the sun, but don't worry, mom will take care of you.'
…A few seconds passed by, and a realization dawned.
He wasn't crying.
He didn't react. He just lay there. Silent. Asleep?
No—this couldn't be...
Seeing my clear panicked state the doctor snatched him, casting healing spells, warming his feet, rubbing his back. Panic clawed at me. I begged the Goddess again.
Please... anything... just let him live!
Then—
SMACK.
"Uwaaa!!"
My baby cried.
Tears burst from my eyes. He was alive. Alive!
I cradled him, kissed him, showered him in love. My tiny, confused angel—so warm in my arms.
I was speaking nonsense which didn't even register in my own head—but who cares?
Right now, nothing else mattered to me.
Only the sounds of a mother making cute, unintelligible talks with her baby filled the ward.
His tiny eyelids fluttered open.
'Oh my, is my baby trying to open his eyes? I have to make a good first impression, so let's make a good face.
Black. Pitch-black. No pupils.
Odd...
I hastily called the doctor. He inspected my baby's eyes with a flashlight and did some sensory mana checkup with a spell.
"…I'm afraid your child is blind."
"NO!!"
I broke.
Why?! Why must fate torment him?
"!!!!!!"
Then—silence.
It happened instantly—the world came to a pause. I even forgot my sorrow.
Only one thing remained in everyone's mind: one being.The presence felt outside the ward's door. And with that, primal fear overcame my mind.
Skrrk.
The door opened.
He walked in.
I dared not look. I held my baby tighter, shielding him. MY entire body shaking from fear.
He stopped beside me.
"Hand him over."
With trembling arms, I obeyed.
He placed a palm on my child's stomach.
He took my baby, placed a palm on my child's stomach and started inspecting his body with a spell.
A minute went by, and then he handed me my baby back.
After a minute, he spoke—
"…Crippled. Fragile."
That's all? Is that all he has to say for his newborn son?
He turned to me—
"You couldn't even fulfill the one duty given to you: bear a healthy heir."
He looked at my child.
"Still, I shall take responsibility. Live quietly from now on."
He turned to leave.
Resentment grew within me—enough to overpower my fear. And with that courage, I asked him:
"MY LORD! PLEASE—AT LEAST GRACE YOUR CHILD WITH A NAME!"
He paused. Shocked? Or annoyed?
Then, after a moment—
"…Nelor."
And he left.
"How cruel..."
Nelor meaning A frosted leaf at dawn—beautiful, yet so fragile it crumbles with a touch.
A name that symbolizes fragility and weakness. A name soaked in cruelty.
My arms trembled. My heart ached.
'Huh?'
Two tiny palms were touching my cheeks. I looked down and saw my baby reaching out his palm toward my face.
"Pfft! Haha!"
Is my baby already taking care of his mother?
This adorable touch enveloped in soft warmth melted every sorrow inside me. I forgot my pain. I forgot the fear.
Then it hit me—
'Wait... wasn't this my first time meeting Lord Abel?'
Oh no. I yelled at him.
"Pfft!"
I couldn't help but laugh.
'The Matriarch is going to lose her mind over this.'
But strangely, I didn't care. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise.
No interference. No expectations. Just my baby and I, in our own quiet corner of the world.
He may grow up blind, and fragile.
But I'll be here. I'll be his strength. His shield. His everything.
Goddess, I ask for no riches. No glory.
Just this—
Let us live a simple, happy life.
That's all we need.