A bolt of lightning split the sky, a white flash swallowing the dim room thick with the smell of blood and rain. His consciousness fell—then slammed into a tiny, lifeless body. No breath. No movement. His chest refused to rise, his throat sealed as if the world itself had decided he should not exist. Voices drifted through the storm, distant and cold.
"Midwife… you remember what I told you, don't you?"
"I do. Just a moment."
Calm. Too calm. Then—silence. A suffocating, endless silence.
"I'm sorry… the child isn't breathing."
"No… no, that can't be. Please, save our baby…"
"If she says so… then the child is gone. It won't come back."
In that instant, lightning flared—
CRACK!
Thunder tore through the sky.
"Waaah… waaah…!"
Air rushed into his lungs like fire. Pain flooded his chest—but with it came life. A weak cry broke free, then grew louder, sharper, cutting through the storm.
"He… he's crying…!"
"Wait… this—"
A trembling pair of hands pulled him close—warm, desperate, refusing to let go. The woman's breath shook, clinging to a miracle she didn't dare lose.
"My child… you're alive… thank the heavens…"
The man fell silent. The midwife said nothing more. Only the rain remained, and the frantic beating of a newborn heart.
"Can you hear me, my child… no matter what happens… I will keep you here…"
"I will protect you… with everything I have…"
"And from this moment on… you will have a name… a name this world will remember…"
"I will name you… Luciel Varyn."
The rain outside had eased, but the atmosphere in the room remained heavy, as if weighed down. The man stood near the door, turned halfway round, his gaze lingering on the child longer than usual—so long it made one feel uneasy.
"…It should have died by now."
His voice was low and hoarse, almost swallowed up by the receding thunder. The midwife paused slightly. The woman immediately clutched the baby tighter, as if by reflex.
"Don't… don't say that. It's still alive. You saw it yourself… it's still alive."
"Alive?" He let out a faint, dry laugh. "You call that alive?"
The baby in her arms stirred slightly. A tiny, feeble breath, yet steady. The tiny hand clenched unconsciously, as if clinging to something invisible.
Inside that body, he was fully conscious.
With a clarity that was terrifying.
Every sound, every word… he heard it all.
"Where… am I…?"
A fragmented thought flashed and faded. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He could only feel—the cold, the pain, and… the malicious glare from that man.
Danger.
His instincts screamed it.
"It's… only temporary," the man continued, his voice colder. "Newborns are fragile. Alive today… dead tomorrow."
"No! It won't die!" The woman was on the verge of tears, clutching the baby tightly. "I'll look after it… I won't let anything happen to it again…"
He remained silent for a few seconds, his eyes never leaving the child.
"…It's up to you."
He turned away, his heavy footsteps leading him towards the door. But before leaving, he paused briefly.
"Don't expect me to waste any more money on something not worth it."
The door swung open. A chill breeze and a hint of rain swept in, then it slammed shut.
Silence.
All that remained was the faint sound of breathing and the tiny heartbeat clinging to life.
The midwife stood still for a moment, then slowly began to pack up her things. Her hands trembled slightly; her gaze swept over the baby… as if looking at something that shouldn't exist.
"…You should rest, madam."
"Hmm… thank you…"
The mother's voice was weary, yet still gentle. She bent down, gently touching her forehead to the child's, as if afraid that if she let go even a little… it would vanish.
"Luciel… you must live… do you hear me…"
Inside that tiny body, he was still listening.
He couldn't understand everything.
But there was one thing he knew very clearly—
This world… does not welcome me.
And that man… will not let things end here.