Side Story – Chapter 4
“Damian.”
“…Damian.”
Diana repeated the name that Harold had just given their baby. The moment she said it, Damian whimpered softly, as if recognizing his own name.
“Damian Baisen… it really suits our baby.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
Diana smiled bashfully, then yawned, clearly exhausted. She looked up at Harold.
“I’m going to lie down now. Can you hold the baby for me?”
“Of course.”
As Harold stepped closer to take Damian, Diana seized the moment. She suddenly grabbed his collar and pulled him down hard.
“…!”
Caught off guard, Harold leaned forward—and smooch!
Diana kissed his cheek and grinned triumphantly. She had aimed for his lips, but her aim was a little off. Still, her goal had been to heal him, so it was a success either way.
“Haa—”
Harold let out a breathless sound, looking utterly defeated.
“When did you become this mischievous?”
“I’ve been by your side for more than three years, Harold. I had to pick up a few tricks, right? Hehe.”
“Seems I’ll have to keep my guard up from now on.”
“Oh, come on, let it down sometimes.”
While Diana giggled proudly at her little victory, Damian whimpered again.
“Oh no, was I too loud? Sorry, baby.”
Harold realized it was pointless to stay far away and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached toward her.
“Give Damian to me, I’ll take him.”
Once in Harold’s arms, Damian started fussing even more. But when Harold adjusted his hold and began gently patting the baby’s back, he slowly drifted off to sleep—though he kept grumbling softly until the very end, as if protesting.
Diana’s eyes softened completely as she looked at her sleeping son.
His pink hair, his tiny wrinkled skin, his plump cheeks, his pebble-like hands and feet—every part of the newborn was so precious she couldn’t look away.
“Our Damian is so adorable.”
“Really? To me, he looks like a wrinkly potato.”
“Harold.”
Diana scolded gently, and Harold smirked playfully.
“Still, that pink hair he got from you is worth admiring.”
“What kind of compliment is that?”
They both laughed quietly. Then Harold followed her gaze to the baby.
Until he’d made sure Diana was safe, Harold hadn’t even noticed what the baby looked like. Only afterward did he register that the child was healthy, a boy, with pink hair—and such a tiny, fragile body.
His first thought upon seeing the baby had been, ‘He’s so small.’
And that feeling hadn’t changed. So small, so wrinkled, so funny-looking. If he really takes after us, how could he be this ugly?
But the weight and warmth in his arms weren’t unpleasant. Seeing Diana smiling so brightly at the baby didn’t even stir his usual jealousy.
Harold poked the baby’s soft red cheek and brushed a hand through the wisps of pink hair. The gentle warmth against his fingers made him chuckle quietly.
‘He might look wrinkly, but… maybe I understand why Diana finds him so lovable.’
“Damian.”
He called the name again softly. The baby, fast asleep, made tiny breathing sounds. Watching him, Harold murmured,
“You made your mother suffer so much when you were born. Don’t give her a hard time as you grow up.”
“Baby, Daddy’s speaking in a way you can’t understand again,” Diana teased, resting her head on Harold’s shoulder.
“What Daddy means,” she continued gently, “is that he hopes you’ll grow up healthy and strong. That you won’t do anything dangerous, and if something ever worries you, that you’ll always come to us first—because we’ll always protect you. And also… he hopes that if you’re ever sad or hurting, you won’t keep it to yourself.”
Her words flowed softly, like a lullaby. Harold didn’t interrupt or disagree once.
Time passed—seven years later.
“Mother, are you inside? I want to talk to you.”
“Come in, Damian.”
Damian took a deep breath. He wanted to rush in excitedly, but stopped himself.
‘I’m seven now, so I can’t act like a little kid anymore!’
After another deep breath, he opened the door to Diana’s office—and his face fell the moment he saw the same navy-blue eyes as his sitting on the sofa.
“…Father, why are you here?”
“I came first.”
“Aren’t you busy?”
“I’ve finished all my work.”
“…”
‘Tch. I wanted to talk to Mother alone today.’
He resisted the urge to puff his cheeks—because that was something kids did.
So instead, he walked forward calmly. His curly pink hair, inherited from his mother, bounced lightly as he moved.
Taller and more mature than most children his age, Damian sat politely across from his parents. Diana smiled warmly and met his eyes.
“What did you want to talk about, Damian?”
The moment she smiled, all his irritation about his father’s presence melted away.
“Well, today I had my first sparring match with the trainee knights.”
“That’s right. How did it go?”
“I fought three of them—and I won against all of them!”
Oops—he realized too late that he’d sounded a little too proud.
But Diana clapped her hands and cheered.
“Wow! That’s amazing, our Damian!”
“Hehe, and my tutor also said I don’t need any more lessons in Imperial History. He said I have incredible learning ability, even better than most adults!”
“I actually heard that from Professor Gazelle. He said you pick up things so quickly—when someone teaches you one thing, you understand ten—and that you work very hard too.”
“R-really? All I did was read whenever I had free time…”
Damian’s chubby cheeks turned pink, and he smiled shyly. He was swinging his ankle under the table but quickly froze when he saw Harold glance at him. ‘He didn’t notice, right? I stopped really fast, so he definitely didn’t see.’
“Damian, my dear, reading regularly in your free time is an amazing habit. Oh, my sweet boy.”
Diana sat beside him and pulled him into her arms. Damian normally hated being treated like a child—but when it came from his mother, he loved it. Her warm embrace, her scent—it was comforting. ‘Mother smells so nice.’
“Mother, can I sleep with you tonight?”
“Diana has to sleep with me, so you can’t, son.”
“I was asking Mother, not you, Father.”
Damian pouted at Harold, who just smirked with amusement. Then, just like Diana often did, Harold sat beside him and ruffled his curly hair.
“Father, I’m not a kid. I’m already seven.”
It was fine if his mother saw him as a child, but he didn’t want his father to. He immediately scowled and brushed Harold’s hand away.
“You’re still a kid, little one. Wanting to sleep alone with your mother proves it.”
“That’s not—”
“If you weren’t a kid, you wouldn’t be asking to sleep alone with her, right?”
Damian rolled his navy eyes, unable to argue back. Then, frustrated by the teasing look in his father’s eyes, he shouted,
“I’m seven, so I’ll sleep alone like a grown-up!”
“Good. Then I’ll sleep alone with your mother.”
“…”
‘That’s not what I meant…’
Damian buried his face in Diana’s chest, pouting. ‘Ugh, Father’s so annoying.’
“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep with us?” she asked gently.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
He wasn’t fine, but he said it anyway—because if he changed his mind now, his father would definitely tease him again.
So Damian went back to his own room. He opened his diary and began writing furiously, pressing the pen hard against the paper.
‘I just wanted to talk to Mother alone and sleep beside her. It’s not because I’m a kid—I’m all grown up! Everyone says I’m mature, but Father always treats me like a baby and keeps hogging Mother…!’
He sniffled, feeling wronged. ‘If this keeps up, Father might steal Mother forever!’
‘There must be a way…’
As he stared at his pen, his navy eyes suddenly widened. ‘That’s it!’
Excited, Damian scribbled down his brilliant idea in his diary.
[Imperial Year XXX, XX Month XX Day
Weather: Sunny. Mood: Happy, then sad because of Father, but happy again! 😀
(omitted)
I’ve come up with a way to take Mother back from Father.]
