YWPWYLFDM 57

Chapter 57

“Congratulations! It’s a very handsome little lord!”

At the words coming from inside the birthing room, Roderick unconsciously lifted his head toward the ceiling and burst into laughter. He was simply overjoyed—his wife and child were both safe.

“Your Grace, would you like to come in?”

The midwife stepped out, lifting her skirts slightly, and asked. Without a moment’s hesitation, Roderick entered the room. There, Ophelia lay on the bed, drenched in sweat, her face pale and exhausted.

“…Roderick.”

“Ophelia.”

Roderick hurried to her side and clasped her hand tightly. He was overwhelmed with gratitude.

“Thank you, Ophelia. Just… for everything.”

His voice trembled, on the verge of tears.

“Oh, Roderick, don’t tell me you’re about to cry,”

Candice teased as she followed him inside. Her words, however, seemed to act as a trigger—Roderick truly broke down in tears.

The one who ended up flustered was Candice. She had never imagined that her taciturn, stoic friend’s husband would sob so openly, tears streaming down his face.

“…Why are you crying, Roderick? This is a happy day.”

Even Ophelia shed a single tear as she smiled at him. Husband and wife weeping together in joy—it was a rare sight, at least for Candice.

But the midwives, who had seen such scenes countless times, remained composed. With practiced hands, they placed the tiny baby—no bigger than a small loaf of bread—into Ophelia’s arms.

“The baby looks like you, Roderick.”

Unlike their daughter Aila, who had been a large, healthy baby, this child was born two weeks early and so small it was hard to tell whom he resembled.

Yet, through a parent’s eyes, the likeness was clear. Ophelia, gazing at the child’s dark hair, spoke softly.

“…Is that so? To me, he looks… more like you, Ophelia.”

Roderick sniffled, struggling to speak through hiccups.

To see the Duke of Weishafen—known as the guardian of the Pelles Empire—crying and hiccupping like a child! Candice almost felt it was a waste that she was the only one to witness such a spectacle.

“Have you thought of a name yet?”

Candice, arms folded, leaned against the wall and asked. If she didn’t, the couple would likely spend the entire night just staring at each other and crying.

“…Noah. Little one, your name is Noah.”

Ophelia looked down at her newborn son with tender eyes as she spoke.

Noah Abner Weishafen.
His middle name came from Abner Heilring, Ophelia’s father and the child’s maternal grandfather.

Thus, the baby had his name.

News of the duke’s son spread swiftly to the Imperial Palace, given the close friendship between Roderick and Hiram.

“Already? I thought the due date was still two weeks away?”

Hearing the news, Winfred’s eyes widened in surprise.

“It seems the baby was eager to see the world sooner—just like you, Win. You were born ten days early, remember?”

“Yes, you were. Do you know how much your mother suffered because of it? Even now, when I think of it—”

Winfred had only meant that the child’s early birth was unexpected, but instead of an explanation, he received a scolding—from his father, no less.

Awkward, Winfred scratched the back of his head. He already knew that Empress Selene, frail to begin with, had weakened further from the strain of childbirth. He had always felt both guilty and grateful toward his mother because of it.

Still, being chastised for something that had happened before he could even remember felt unfair. Especially since it was his father, Hiram, doing the scolding—who was far more likely teasing him than genuinely rebuking him. Hiram always seemed to look for ways to poke fun at his son.

Selene, too, caught the mischief in her husband’s eyes and gave him a stern look, silently urging him to stop.

“In any case, it’s wonderful news. I can’t wait to visit and see the baby…”

Winfred shifted in his seat, practically bouncing with excitement, as if he might dash off to the duke’s estate that very moment.

But he knew he couldn’t. It was tradition that no guests were received for a full month after a child’s birth. Not even the crown prince was exempt from that custom.

“You know you can’t see him for another month. That’s why we’re only sending gifts for now. Winfred, do you have something you’d like to send as well?”

The empress soothed him with gentle words.

At that, an idea struck Winfred, and he leapt to his feet.

“J-Just a moment! I’ll go fetch it right away!”

Ignoring Joseph’s frantic calls of “Don’t run, Your Highness! You’ll fall!” Winfred sprinted from the empress’s quarters to his own palace. Hidden in the vault of his bedchamber was a gift he had personally prepared for the baby.

Throwing open the door, Winfred hurried to the safe and retrieved a freshly finished mobile he had completed just the night before. With deft hands and a keen eye for aesthetics, he had cut and assembled each piece of colored paper himself.

He had planned to take his time, with weeks still remaining, but for some reason, inspiration had struck yesterday, and he’d rushed to finish it. Almost as if he’d known the baby would be born today.

Carefully, he packed the mobile into a sturdy box, cushioning it with soft cotton so it wouldn’t be damaged during delivery.

Just then, a knock came at the door—but before Winfred could answer, the door swung open. It was Binka, the maid in charge of cleaning his chambers.

“Oh! Forgive me, Your Highness, I didn’t know you were here.”

Binka looked around nervously, fearing another scolding. She had once entered without knocking and been harshly reprimanded by the head steward. This time, though she had knocked, she hadn’t waited for permission before entering. If Joseph had been present, she would have been in trouble again.

Luckily, only Winfred was inside, and she let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, hello, Binka.”

Winfred, who usually greeted her with a bright smile, remembered Joseph’s warning and stiffly muttered his greeting instead, like a broken ventriloquist’s doll.

Joseph had cautioned him against acting overly familiar with her, lest others mistake his friendliness for romantic interest. Since then, Winfred had deliberately kept his distance.

“Ah… hello.”

Binka, who was used to his warm demeanor, seemed disheartened by his coldness. Seeing her expression, Winfred’s resolve wavered, but he steeled himself again, wary of any misunderstanding.

“Well then, I’ll be going. Please take care of the cleaning.”

Clutching the gift box to his chest, Winfred stood. Glancing at the scraps of paper littering the floor around his desk, he felt a pang of guilt for the mess she would have to clean up.

Still, he forced himself to leave quickly. He wanted the gift delivered to the newborn as soon as possible.

But he couldn’t leave.

Binka’s voice, trembling on the verge of tears, stopped him.

“Y-Your Highness… did I do something wrong? If I made a mistake, please tell me. I’ll fix it. I’ll make sure to knock properly from now on.”

The pitiful sight tugged at Winfred’s soft heart.

Though he still feared others might misinterpret his behavior, he couldn’t just walk away and leave her believing she had earned his dislike. That felt wrong.

So, after sending another servant to deliver the gift in his stead, Winfred stayed behind with Binka. He felt he owed her an explanation.

“The truth is… you haven’t done anything wrong. I was only keeping my distance because I was worried people might misunderstand. I should’ve told you sooner—I’m sorry for making you worry.”

Winfred spoke honestly, watching her reaction.

“Misunderstand? What kind of misunderstanding?” Binka asked, wide-eyed.

“That… that I liked you. That some people might look at you badly or gossip about you because of it. So I thought it would be safer if I—”

But Binka quickly waved her hands, flustered.

“M-me? That’s impossible! How could someone like me ever…! I’m not even from a noble family!”

“No, of course I think it’s absurd too. But listen—it’s not because you’re a commoner! Don’t talk as if your worth is less for that.”

Winfred’s voice grew firm as he countered her words. For a crown prince, such a statement could have been scandalous—but it was how he truly felt.

Noble or commoner, people were still people. What did status matter in something as simple as liking someone?

Most importantly, he didn’t like Binka as a woman in the first place.

“I just meant… you really feel like an older sister to me. That’s all.”

He pouted slightly as he spoke. If anything, he wished Binka were his actual sister—or at least a cousin.

“Your Highness…”

Binka’s face softened at his words, a strange expression between a smile and tears.

“I may be far beneath you, but… if I may say so, I too wish I had a younger brother like you.”