“Have you made contact with the person Andre sent?”
Chaika asked in an indifferent voice, his gaze fixed on empty space. The physician checked the closed bedroom door once, then nodded.
“I contacted them four days ago. I informed them that you, Lord Chaika, have safely conceived, so they’ll proceed according to the plan.”
“When will the pregnancy stabilize?”
“Considering rapid travel and any unexpected situations that might arise, it won’t be safe until about two months have passed.”
At the physician’s answer, Chaika’s eyes twisted sharply.
“You’re telling me to keep this up for two more months?”
Chaika snapped, his voice thick with irritation. But in truth, it was something he had already known. It took at least two months for a pregnancy to stabilize enough to allow long-distance travel without worry. If he rushed recklessly and lost the child he had only just managed to obtain, everything would have to be started over from the beginning.
“I’m so irritated I can’t stand it.”
Chaika lowered his gaze from the air and looked directly at the physician. It was a side of him very different from his usual self—normally someone who calculated everything and executed plans with cold composure.
“It’s natural. When someone becomes pregnant, their personality often grows volatile, and their patience shortens.”
The physician said this with a faint smile. Chaika let out a long, irritated sigh.
“Since you’re pregnant, no one will find it strange if your temperament seems a bit different from usual, Lord Chaika. Most people are like that during pregnancy.”
“So you’re saying I should tone down the acting and just behave more like my usual self?”
Chaika said with a crooked grin. The physician flailed his hands in alarm.
“That would be going too far. Even if someone changes, there are limits.”
What part of that was funny, no one knew, but Chaika suddenly let out a small laugh. Seeing him laugh, the physician awkwardly laughed along.
“Guess hormones really do have an effect.”
Chaika muttered after the laughter subsided.
“Yes. There’s no way they wouldn’t. So rather than bottling everything up, it’s fine to let it out in moderation.”
“Hm….”
Letting out a low hum, Chaika imagined a few scenarios in which he loosened his true personality just a little, using pregnancy-related hormonal changes as an excuse. No matter how “moderate” he tried to be, the other party would surely find it anything but moderate. The gap between the persona he’d been playing and his true nature was far too vast to bridge casually.
“Two months, huh….”
Chaika muttered, drawing out a long sigh as if trying to suppress his mounting frustration.
It had taken exactly half a year to get this far. Not a casually wasted half-year, but a fiercely fought one. If he endured just two more months, he could finally reap the results—so no matter how hard it was, he had no choice but to endure.
“Tell them to prepare for two months from now.”
Chaika said, firming his resolve. The physician nodded as if he understood.
***
The festival that had continued for nearly a week finally came to an end. Yet the excited atmosphere refused to settle, both inside Castiya Castle and in the villages outside the walls. Mihail had received congratulations until his ears rang, but instead of growing tired or annoyed, he did nothing but smile pleasantly again and again. People whispered among themselves that Mihail was completely smitten with Chaika.
The Mihail who never left Chaika’s side was, surprisingly, alone in his office today. Considering how recently he had listened to reports while holding Chaika in his arms, and read or signed documents without ever letting him go, it was unexpected.
“What’s going on that you gathered everyone like this?”
Ilya asked.
Inside the office were Ilya, the estate’s financial administrators, and its legal advisors. The Castiya domain was vast, and the taxes collected each year were immense, so there were several financial managers and legal advisors by default.
Normally, Mihail was lazy by nature—he selected capable people, placed them where they belonged, and then refrained from interfering, only receiving reports. Aside from annual gatherings, this was the first time he had summoned everyone like this.
Ilya sat crookedly on the edge of Mihail’s desk, while the others stood in a neat line, exchanging subtle glances. Perhaps the Duke of Castiya, now that he had an heir, intended to take estate management more seriously. Having someone to inherit one’s legacy was that significant a matter.
If Mihail truly began scrutinizing estate affairs, even a single administrator who had been siphoning off private gains would be exposed immediately and end up in utter ruin. That was why the administrators were eyeing one another cautiously. Fortunately, none of the exchanged looks carried guilt or unease. Everyone knew very well that no one who dared to screw over the Duke of Castiya could expect a peaceful death.
All eyes were on Mihail, waiting for him to speak. As usual, he leaned back deeply in his chair, legs crossed atop the desk, lost in thought. In his hand was the seal of the Duke of Castiya, which he idly rolled around, fidgeting with it.
“Mihail.”
When he still didn’t open his mouth after a long wait, Ilya called out to him. Mihail snapped his gaze up at Ilya, then finally spoke.
“The reason I gathered everyone here today is….”
At last, words came from Mihail’s mouth. Everyone leaned in to listen.
“It’s to find a way to grant legitimate inheritance rights to the child—if this baby is born an omega.”
His words weren’t vague or difficult to understand, yet no one grasped their meaning immediately. One by one, brows furrowed. Mihail, however, acted as though he’d already said everything that needed to be said. He placed the seal he’d been playing with onto the desk with a sharp thunk.
“Find it quickly.”
Then he added one more thing.
“Right now.”
Ilya could only stare with his mouth slightly open, looking utterly dumbfounded. The others, meanwhile, chewed over what they had just heard again and again, like cows ruminating cud, trying to fully comprehend it.
The people Mihail had selected to manage his domain were all exceptionally capable. True to an alpha’s nature, Mihail was greedy in all things—and that included talent. Among those standing before him were several individuals he had wrested away from the emperor himself after near-lethal political battles. Their abilities were, if anything, superior to those of imperial officials.
“Hurry.”
Seeing everyone merely frowning in confusion, Mihail tossed out the word curtly, clearly unwilling to wait. His brows were knit tightly. Irritation flickered in his gray eyes, a threat more than sufficient on its own.
“Y-Your Grace?”
The oldest of the legal advisors cautiously addressed him. Mihail jerked his chin, signaling him to speak. The advisor swallowed hard before carefully opening his mouth.
“What Your Grace has just said is…, that even if the baby to be born is an omega, you wish to grant them inheritance rights equal to those of an alpha son… Is that what you mean?”
“Yes.”
Mihail replied cheerfully. Then, as if wondering why it had taken so long to understand, he clicked his tongue and shot them a look of open disdain.
Mm.
Having confirmed he hadn’t misheard, the legal advisor squeezed his eyes shut and let out a low groan. The others reacted much the same.
“Um… Your Grace.”
Once again, it was the oldest legal advisor who spoke. Though a beta, he was so capable and wise that Mihail had effectively abducted him from the emperor’s service and installed him in his own castle. From his youth to his current white-haired age, he had worked for Mihail, earning considerable trust. That was why he could dare to speak up now.
“As Your Grace already knows…, it is the law that omegas cannot possess private property. Most nations enforce the same law. Therefore, if an omega child is born, it would be impossible for them to hold inheritance rights.”
At that point, Mihail’s eyes turned feral. Knowing his temperament well, the legal advisor hurriedly continued.
“Instead, it would be possible to appoint an appropriate trustee, place the assets the child is meant to inherit into a trust, and have them paid out in the form of an annuity.”
Mihail considered it briefly, then shook his head.
“That wouldn’t be property the child could use freely, would it? What I want is for my child—whether alpha or omega—to have and exercise the exact same inheritance rights.”
Then he added once more.
“Exact. Same.”
The absolute firmness in his tone, leaving no room for compromise, twisted everyone’s faces into despair.
Someone muttered a hopeless “Good heavens” under their breath. Given Mihail’s personality, it was obvious he wouldn’t let them go until he got what he wanted—and from the sound of it, the task was utterly impossible. Mihail was demanding they make the impossible possible.
“Hey… Mihail.”
Ilya, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. Everyone looked at him with the eyes of someone spotting a savior. Even so, Ilya scratched his chin, troubled and hesitant, unable to speak right away. After a brief moment of deliberation, he finally opened his mouth.
“I get that you want to give the child equal benefits even if they’re born an omega, but… you know… laws don’t really work like that. Isn’t it impossible?”
Ilya spoke in a roundabout way, unusually so for him.
“Yeah. It’s impossible.”
Mihail agreed brightly. Just as relief began to creep onto Ilya’s and the others’ faces, Mihail added,
“That’s why I called you all here—to make it possible. Hurry up and think of something.”
Mihail crossed his arms, as if demanding they conjure up a solution immediately. He showed not a shred of guilt for making such an outrageous demand, nor did he seem to think it was impossible at all. If anything, the way he glanced at the clock made it seem like he was impatient to wrap this up and return to Chaika as soon as possible.
A brief silence fell. No one could open their mouth. Naturally so—what could one possibly say when ordered to make the impossible possible? And yet, if they said they couldn’t do it, they’d be the first to bear the full brunt of Mihail’s temper. No one was brave enough to volunteer for that.
Mihail didn’t wait long. As if the brief silence had merely been time allotted for thinking, he pointed with his chin at the person standing at the far right of the line.
“You start. One by one.”
The unfortunate soul standing at the extreme end—specifically the rightmost end—froze in horror at being chosen first. Cold sweat poured down his face as he opened his mouth. Even so, he couldn’t stall for long. He knew Mihail’s impatience all too well.
