By Zephyria 
Ruberian Calendar Year 6, February 4th.
Morning sunlight spread softly through curtains that fluttered like ripples on a lake on a clear summer day. Amidst tapestries woven with threads of every color draping the room, a large, round egg lay wrapped in a soft blanket atop a cradle crafted from gold.
The surface of the massive egg, measuring about one meter, was a milky, pure white. Occasionally, auspicious blue mana swirled around the egg, crumbling away in a scatter of light particles.
Lately, Yong-yong’s movements had been unusual. It had already been a month since the baby stopped accepting mana feedings.
During that time, both Mika and I spent most of our days by the cradle. It had also been exactly one month since Spiritus, having been contacted by Mika, called Gano Paquin and Saras to linger on the first floor, just in case something happened.
I knew the child was sitting leaned against the inside of the egg, but seeing the little one—who used to make newborn faces and roll around so much—now curled up motionless made me incredibly worried.
When Spiritus first explained it, he said mana had to be fed for five years before the baby could emerge, but Yong-yong had only been receiving mana for 43 months.
I wondered if this was how it felt when a premature baby was born. I felt anxious and impatient every day, fearing that something might have gone wrong with the baby.
Mika and I sat side-by-side in high chairs next to the cradle, which had its legs fixed to prevent shaking. Too afraid to touch the side where the baby was leaning, I only cradled and stroked the highest point of the egg, while Mika gently comforted me.
“Yong-yong is healthy. The heartbeat is loud, and hasn’t the baby already started mana breathing on their own? Spiritus said it’s normal not to breathe with lungs until they emerge from the egg…”
“…I know. I know, but…”
It was something I had heard yesterday and the day before.
But this was a first for both Mika and Spiritus. They had likely never awakened a dragon egg that had gone without mana for this long, nor one that had grown by alternating between the mana of a god and a human.
The unknown breeds fear. That was why I was even more anxious.
I poured mana over the shell, though Yong-yong couldn’t properly absorb it. The mana the baby couldn’t eat pooled around my feet.
“Cheer up, Titi.”
“…Right. Your father has already skipped two meals just to stay by your side.”
“Is that the problem right now…?”
“Then what else is the problem? Parents must be healthy to take care of a child about to be born.”
“You’ve been feeding me too much; if this keeps up, I might actually start rolling.”
“Hardly. Your waist is still just a handful.”
“…”
It was a kind remark, but it wasn’t the truth. It had been less than three months since I had my measurements taken again because none of the clothes I had tailored last year fit.
I gave Mika a glare at her mischievous smile and turned my gaze back to the egg.
No matter how much I looked, I never grew tired of it.
Titi.
Justitia Heart Sierren.
The baby’s name was decided based on Gano Paquin’s advice. It was a name modeled after the Goddess of Justice from another world-line, not this continent. It was an uncommon name in Sierren, but I liked it very much because the sound was pleasant and the nickname was cute.
My hand, extended cautiously, touched the top of the egg again. I couldn’t even bring myself to touch the spot where the child was leaning for fear of something going wrong; my heart was aching as I stroked only the empty shell.
It was then.
Tuk. A small, black hole appeared in the smooth, thick eggshell.
Startled, I pulled my hand away. I looked at Mika. Mika, having seen it as well, met my eyes.
The two of us stared at each other, blinking for a moment, before immediately fixing our gaze on that tiny hole.
Crack.
Crunch. Snap.
One by one, pieces of the shell were pushed inward. If it were a bird or a lizard, they would wake by pushing their beaks from the inside out, but Titi was different. It was as if the baby were grasping the shell with tiny hands and pulling it inward.
The hole was too small to see inside clearly. It was heartbreaking and pitiful to see the baby make such a tiny hole and then rest for a long time; I wanted to help. However, I had heard that the birth of a life requires sufficient waiting, and that dragons sometimes take fifteen days, or even a month, to break their shells slowly, so I endured.
Crack. Crunch.
The shell had seemed so hard when I touched it. I was anxious and worried that the baby might get hurt while breaking out. As I watched intently, a tiny hand suddenly appeared, resting on the gap.
It was… smaller than I thought. Despite growing for over three years, I was shocked to see a tiny, chubby human baby’s hand that looked barely a year old.
“…Hah.”
“…They really are small.”
“Yeah…”
Mika’s hand rested on my shoulder. As she pulled me closer, I held Mika’s waist and leaned into her embrace. My eyes still did not leave the egg.
The tiny hand gripped the shell like a newborn’s reflex, pulling it inward several times.
The shell, which had been chipping away bit by bit, finally fell away in a large piece.
Through that gap… my eyes met the baby’s.
They were eyes that shone a deep, pitch black. Those wide-open eyes were staring intently at me.
Blink. The eyelids opening and closing were perfect. Despite being so small and squirmy, the shape of the eyes was distinct. Mika chuckled and whispered softly in my ear.
“The eyes look exactly like Ruben’s.”
“…No, no. Surely not…”
…I wanted to deny it, but it was true.
I slowly reached out and touched the area near the broken shell. My fingertip brushed against the hand the baby had extended to pull the shell. It was small, moist, and soft.
Titi, meeting my eyes again, opened their tiny mouth in a circle.
“Huuu.”
“…Did they just sigh?”
“They must be exhausted. How diligent.”
“Should I… help a bit?”
“Let’s just leave it. They’re doing great.”
It was exactly as she said. Thanks to the shell pieces falling away one by one, the gap on the surface had already grown round and large, like a window.
Titi, who had been exerting effort for a while, rested for a moment. Leaning their back inside the egg, the baby swayed their body. Then, they stretched out their hands, checked their feet, and began to eat the pieces of eggshell.
Sunlight penetrated deep into the egg. The hair, wet with what could have been sweat, amniotic fluid, or albumen, was a vivid pink.
A sense of relief washed over me, cooling my heart, and I let out a mindless laugh.
“…No, they look like Mika. Thank goodness.”
“Thank goodness? I would have been happy even if the child only looked like Ruben.”
“Still.”
This child would not receive the same gaze I once did.
I looked closely at the baby munching on the eggshell. Tiny front and upper teeth, small as grains of wheat, had sprouted.
They were truly no different from a child about a year old. Though perhaps a bit more spirited… and more self-directed…
After watching for a while, just as the baby, having swallowed all the shell pieces, gripped the shell once more, our eyes met again.
A smile escaped me reflexively. With trembling hands, I brushed over the eggshell. The surface of the egg, which had always felt smooth and moist, felt dry and rough for the first time.
“Titi. It’s Daddy.”
At that, the baby, who had been quietly crunching on the shell, curled the corners of their mouth into a grin.
“Amma.”
“Yes. It’s nice to meet you. I missed you so, so much…”
“Baba!”
“…I really, really… love you.”
Strangely, my heart felt full. Perhaps it was because I had prepared for this for so long, truly so long.
From the time this baby was smaller than my palm, I had watched over them almost every day, looking in and feeding them mana. While meditating, talking to the baby, and listening to the whispers, I discovered that I was capable of such a ticklish emotion.
Facing the beaming baby, I extended my index finger toward that tiny palm.
Mika looked surprised and gripped the eggshell warily. She was worried the baby might accidentally break my finger.
But the baby did not harm me. Instead, with a wide, radiant smile that lit up their entire face, the baby said:
“Aa!”
To me, it sounded like they were saying, “Me too.” It truly sounded that way to my ears.
* * *
Justitia was a girl. And she was very spirited.
Unlike other foolish dragons, Titi broke completely out of the egg in just one full day.
The three gods, who came up to check the baby’s health, personally bestowed their blessings. Spiritus, in particular, knelt in tears, and when I took the opportunity to ask him to be the child’s godfather, he happily agreed.
With a dragon as a godfather, the child would never be pushed around by force throughout their life.
Titi whimpered a bit when being dressed in the newborn clothes I had prepared, but fortunately, she remained well-behaved while munching on the remaining eggshells.
Only after eating every single piece of that large shell did she let out a long sigh—just like the first time—and flop down to sleep, as if she had finished a very grueling task.
I had been afraid she might show power not belonging to humans and thus hadn’t chosen a nanny, but now it was time to decide who to place around the baby. Although she hadn’t gripped an object properly yet, judging by the grip strength when she held my finger, she could truly be considered human.
For now.
…Would it be better to raise her in my arms a little longer?
Overwhelmed by happy dilemmas, I left Titi with Mika and returned to the Imperial Palace.
With the portal, the journey took less than an hour. I hated to leave the baby’s side even for a moment, but most of the gems in Duke Ernhardt’s Territory were sapphires or obsidian. Since the baby was born in February, I had to make an identification necklace using amethyst.
I opened and closed dozens of jewelry boxes to find the most round and safely cut amethyst.
It was then that I discovered a bracelet of a very familiar shape.
Five mana stones were embedded in a row atop a thick, square gold mold in the center of a round loop. In the center of the bracelet, where a faint radiance lingered, the familiar emblem of Shierun Academy was engraved.
An artifact that brought back the happiest memories of academy days when one gently rubbed the gems—the Shierun Academy graduation bracelet.
“This too,”
I spoke unconsciously, as if talking to Mikael.
Perhaps because I hadn’t been alone for a while, the empty space beside me felt very awkward. Still, I was no longer anxious. Perhaps because I knew that even if we were apart for a moment, we would soon meet again.
With a small smile, I slipped the bracelet onto my wrist.
It’s been a really long time since I wore this.
With all my heart, I pressed my thumb upon it and rubbed it sideways. Soon, a familiar voice was heard.
[Why?]
It was the voice I had heard in the library that day, when a brash, young Mikael looked straight at me.
On graduation day, I had been baffled as to why those few words had lodged themselves so deeply in my heart, but thinking back now, it was one of the finest memories among my happy ones. Because every moment spent with Mikael was a fulfilling happiness for me.
Mika. Why did you ask me back then why I kept staring at you?
At the time, I didn’t know the answer, so I couldn’t respond. But now, I know why.
I think even then, I knew you would become my love.
I recognized that you were the one and only, eternal person who would fill me with love.
And because I wanted to fill you with love as well. That’s why I kept staring.
As the things I wanted to say piled up, a corner of my heart felt ticklish and overwhelmed once again. Ah, I can’t do this. The longing to see them had overcome the tasks at hand. I placed all the remaining unchecked jewelry boxes on the table and called for a servant.
I’ll open the rest at Duke Ernhardt’s castle.
In front of Mika and Titi, the two people I love most in the world.
The Fifth Story, The Man Who Knew Not Love Complete