I narrowed my eyes at Mia, unsure of how much weight her tempting offer actually held. "What kind of partnership are you proposing?" I asked, my skepticism cutting through the air like a cold blade.
Mia grinned conspiratorially. "I can see through my Fate Eyes that you're strong—strong as me, even. So, I'll acknowledge you as my equal," she began, her words carefully chosen. "I can do a lot for you. Besides warming your bed, I can serve as your decoy, your shield. When trouble comes your way, I'll step into the spotlight and handle it, while you stay behind the scenes, living your normal, quiet life. And if things go south, you can always just run. Leave me to deal with the fallout."
Her offer sounded generous—too generous. I raised an eyebrow, my skepticism deepening. "And how exactly do you expect to stay obscure while you're constantly in the spotlight? And this offer? It sounds like you're begging me to freeload off your hard work. What's the catch?"
Mia waved off my concerns with an almost dismissive gesture. "It's your house," she said, as if that explained everything. "Sure, I've handled the paperwork and bribed the right people, but ultimately, it's still your estate."
"And if I say no?" I countered. "Why not just kill me and be done with it? Take the estate and avoid all the hassle." My words hung in the air, challenging her to reveal whatever darker motive she might be hiding.
For a moment, Mia looked genuinely taken aback, speechless even. I leaned back in my chair, a wry smile creeping onto my face. Huh? So that was it, huh? It struck me—
"Wow, that didn't cross your mind? Unexpected." I paused for effect, watching her closely. "Or... let me guess. You've used your Fate Magic to simulate possible futures, and there are plenty where you end up losing if you make a move against me."
Her silence was all the confirmation I needed. The ever-confident Fatemancer, outplayed by the unpredictability of fate—or, more accurately, by me, the side character who refused to play along with her grand designs.
I decided to lay it all out. "Look, I'll be honest. I don't care much for this estate. I've actually been planning to move on. Find a quiet village somewhere, start farming—live the normal life I've been dreaming of."
Mia's confident facade cracked. There was a look of genuine concern flashing across her face. "No, don't go," she pleaded, her voice a mixture of urgency and frustration. "You don't understand. I'd be losing so much if you left. You know how merchants think, right? If they expect ten gold pieces and only get five, they feel like they've lost five, even though they still made a profit. You leaving would be like that for me. I'm not just losing five gold—I'd be losing everything."
That was kind of… weird logic, wasn't it?
Wouldn't it be better for her if I just leave?
"What do you want me for, exactly?"
Mia dropped a bombshell, "I want to bear your child!"
I blinked. Once. Twice. Did she just say what I think she said? I stared at her, waiting for the punchline, maybe a dramatic "just kidding" or some laughably insane excuse. But no, the silence that followed was painfully awkward. Mia's eyes were dead serious.
"You... want to what?" I finally managed to stammer, still processing the bombshell she'd just dropped.
"I want to bear your child," she repeated, as if she had just asked for a cup of tea.
I blinked again, this time harder, as if that would somehow clear the ridiculousness from the air. Nope. Still here.
"You've gotta be joking," I said, hoping—praying—that this was just some strange, twisted form of Fatemancer humor.
But Mia shook her head, completely unfazed. "I'm dead serious, Randel. Your Destiny is strong, and I need that kind of strength for my future… for our future."
I laughed nervously. "I think you're confusing me with a main character, Mia. I'm just the guy in the background, the one holding a pitchfork in some village scene, not... whatever this is!"
Her eyes narrowed with determination. "You underestimate yourself. I can see things that others can't. Our children would be unstoppable—legends."
Unstoppable? Legends? I could barely handle being responsible for myself, let alone some mythical offspring!
"Look," I said, trying to steer the conversation back to sanity, "this is a very elaborate way of saying you want a roommate, but I'm really more of a 'rent a farm, live quietly' type of guy. Not 'father of a magical dynasty.'"
Mia leaned forward, unflinching. "You don't get it, do you? Together, we can rewrite the world. Your obsession with ordinariness is what makes you so... perfect."
I sighed, realizing she wasn't about to drop this. "Let me make something clear," I said, raising a finger. "If I wanted kids—big if—it wouldn't be because of Destiny, or Fate, or some grand cosmic conspiracy. It'd be because I made a horrible, sleep-deprived decision after too much wine. You know, normal reasons."
She giggled, as if I had just told the funniest joke in the world. I stared at her, thoroughly unamused.
"Well, I suppose we'll see," she said cryptically, her smirk never fading. I had the distinct impression that she wasn't taking no for an answer.
Great. Just great. First, I try to escape the plot. Now, I'm dodging unsolicited marriage proposals and magical dynasties. What's next? A prophecy that says I'm destined to open a bakery?
My frustration had finally boiled over, and I responded with unfiltered honesty. "You're thirsty, lady! I don't want to get involved with you in any way, so hell no, I don't want you to bear my child. I want a normal wife!"
Mia, undeterred, insisted, "I can be normal!"
"You're not convincing," I shot back, my patience waning.
"We're going to create a Hero-Class offspring!" she declared with wild enthusiasm.
"Fuuuck… You used prophecy magic to figure out how to make a powerful kid. Didn't you? Tell me the truth! You monstrous, freaky, ambitious bitch!" My filter was completely off, my real persona slipping out. "You're a villainess through and through... That's why you're here, right? To ambush me? I don't even know you on a personal level! You stalker pervert!"
Mia vehemently denied the accusation, but I wasn't buying it. "I am not a stalker!" she protested.
"Sure, that's exactly what a stalker would say," I scoffed, feeling the tension rising as the truth of our bizarre interaction became more obvious.
The revelation hit me like a bolt of lightning—Mia wasn't trying to build a family; she wanted to bear my child to create a Hero-Class offspring. The theory, well-known in sorcerer circles, said the union of two powerful sorcerers could produce a child with monstrous, illogical abilities. A Hero-Class. The kind of legacy that could etch your name into history.
I recoiled at the realization.
I stared at Mia, my frustration mounting with every absurd word she spoke. "You've got to be kidding me. You used prophecy magic—like, actual time-peeping witchcraft—to figure out how to breed a Hero-Class kid? That's... that's a level of crazy I didn't even think was possible!"
She blinked, completely unfazed by my incredulous tone. "It's efficient," she said, as if this was the most reasonable plan in the world.
Efficient? Efficient was making sure you had enough bread for the week, not magically stalking someone through time to produce a superhuman child.
I rubbed my face, trying to process the madness. "Lady, you basically stalked me through time and space to figure out how to make a hero-baby. Do you not hear how insane that sounds?"
Mia crossed her arms, her expression utterly serious. "I was being thorough."
"Thorough?!" I threw my hands up. "That's not thorough, that's a full-blown villain origin story! I don't want to create some overpowered offspring who's destined to overthrow empires or whatever it is you've got rattling around in your head. I want peace, potatoes, and maybe a normal wife who doesn't time-travel to figure out how compatible we are!"
"It is not time-travel, but precognition overclocked to the nth." She rolled her eyes as if I was the one being unreasonable. "You're thinking too small, Randel. We could leave a legacy. Our child could change the world."
"Yeah, well, I don't want to change the world!" I shot back. "I just want to avoid it! You're out here plotting world domination by diaper, and I'm just trying to figure out how to retire early and not die in some hero's prophecy!"
Mia looked at me as if I was some curious specimen she couldn't quite figure out. "But you're strong. Powerful. Don't you want to pass that on? Imagine what our child could become—"
"Yeah, probably a walking apocalypse!" I interrupted, throwing my arms wide. "And guess who's going to be cleaning up after that disaster? Me! The dad who never wanted to be in this situation in the first place!"
Yeah, in the duration of my recluse lifestyle and obsession—I've definitely become so much stronger, but that wasn't the point. But that wasn't the point!
Her gaze softened, like she thought she was about to drop some grand revelation on me. "But you and I together—it's destiny."
I stared at her, deadpan. "Destiny? No, Mia. That's not destiny. That's nightmare fuel."
She huffed, crossing her arms. "You're overreacting."
"I'm underreacting!" I yelled back. "I should be halfway to the nearest village, digging a hole to hide in right now!"
Mia sighed dramatically. "I can be normal, you know."
I squinted at her. "You're literally suggesting magical eugenics, Mia. You're as far from normal as it gets."
For the first time, Mia seemed to falter, her confidence wavering. "But... you don't understand. I've seen the future. Our child could save countless lives. They could become—"
I knew immediately she was manipulating me emotionally. I cut her off again. "A hero. Yeah, yeah. And how many villages would they accidentally blow up in the process? No thanks, I'm opting out of this hero-making business."
Mia's shoulders slumped in defeat, but she wasn't about to give up just yet. "You're really going to pass on this? On me?"
I nodded, firm in my decision. "Yes. For the sake of my sanity, and for the sake of not unleashing a magical demigod on the world, I am absolutely passing on this. Find some other poor soul for your hero-baby factory. I'm done."
"Yeah, I admit it, I used prophecy magic, and I have ambitions, but fuck you!" she snapped back defiantly.
"Yeah, fuck me! I'm going!" I declared, standing up, ready to storm out, frustration propelling me forward.
"You can't!" Mia protested, her tone desperate.
"Of course I can! I'm freaking free, bitch!" I shouted, flipping her off, asserting my independence.
But then Mia dropped a bombshell. "You abusive bastard! I'm already pregnant!" She stood up, her cheeks flushed with anger, tears streaming down her face. The emotions in the room turned volatile, the air thick with tension.
What the fuck!? I froze.
I stood there, utterly gobsmacked. Pregnant? One time and she's pregnant? Of course, this would happen. Just my luck. My brain scrambled to process the bombshell Mia had just dropped.
"What the actual fuck?" I muttered, running a hand through my hair, the shock rippling through me. "You can't be serious. We did it once—ONE TIME—and now you're pregnant? I don't even remember half of that night!"
Mia's face turned redder, her tears still streaming but now mixed with a kind of defiant anger. "You were drunk, yes, but it still happened! And now… now I'm pregnant. What are you going to do about it, Randel?"
I felt like my head was going to explode. "Me? What am I going to do? You're the one who plotted this whole thing with your crazy prophecy magic! How do I even know this is real and not some scheme to lock me into your little hero-breeding experiment?"
Mia's eyes flashed with fury. "You think I would lie about this? This isn't some game, Randel. It's happening. You're going to be a father, and whether you like it or not, that means you're involved now."
I groaned, feeling like the walls were closing in on me. This was not happening. I was supposed to live a quiet, normal life far away from the chaos of the main plot. I wasn't supposed to be tied up in this epic prophecy nonsense, let alone responsible for some potential Hero-Class offspring!
"Look, Mia," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm just… I'm just a guy who wanted to stay out of all this. I don't know how to handle this kind of situation. And I'm definitely not ready to be a father."
"You should've thought of that before getting drunk and sleeping with me!" she snapped, her voice rising with frustration. "You don't get to run away from this, Randel."
Pregnant. A kid. With Miyandrel Celeste, of all people.
"Shit," I muttered, rubbing my temples. "This is so messed up."
Mia, regaining some of her composure, looked at me with determination. "It's happening, Randel. And you can't run from it. You're going to have to deal with it, one way or another."
I sighed heavily, feeling the walls of my carefully constructed normal life crumbling around me. "Fuuuck…" was all I managed to say. And in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but wonder if this was all part of her damn prophecy plan.
My mind raced through every possible option. If I were truly heartless, I might have considered an abortion, but I wasn't that much of a monster. The thought alone repulsed me. So, what else could I do? Abandon her? Cut all ties and disappear into the void? Nah, Destiny would probably hunt me down and screw me over in ways I didn't want to imagine.
The concept of destiny wasn't foreign to me—I was a Phantomancer, after all. My power came from the ethereal substance of thoughts, illusions crafted from the edges of reality. Sure, I didn't meddle with time like some sorcerers, but I knew enough to understand how fate could be manipulated, twisted, or worse, forced upon someone. My paranoia about getting sucked into the grand 'story' was so severe that I'd dipped into some... unconventional magic—the magic of stories and tropes. You know, the stuff that drags you kicking and screaming down the predictable path of your so-called "Destiny."
I had avoided my own tropes for as long as possible. Stayed out of the spotlight. Kept to my tower. But the moment I left? BAM! Destiny slapped me in the face like I owed it something. Damn it, I just wanted a simple life. Maybe a garden, a quiet corner of the world. Not… this. Not pregnancy and hero-child nonsense.
I didn't even know what my "Destiny" was, but being a Transmigrator came with a sixth sense. Something was lurking, waiting for me to mess up and trigger the next big plot twist. Something ugly, no doubt. I hated it. I hated all of it. I didn't want to be a character in a story; I wanted to be real. The only way I knew how to do that was to be normal. And right now? I was so far from normal it was laughable. I got Miyandrel—Miyandrel, of all people—pregnant. What the hell.
That left me with one option. Fake my death, disappear, maybe return to my tower and live in blissful solitude. Play dead for years while the world moved on without me. Maybe I'd die for real in some pointless battle. That sounded preferable to the crap destiny had lined up for me.
But… That 'one' option wasn't the only option. I knew it in my heart, yet I came to realize 'resisting' had become a reflex to me. My brain wanted it, but my heart was saying otherwise.
I squared my shoulders and strode up to Miyandrel, forcing an air of arrogance that I didn't quite feel. My gaze locked on hers, and I made my decision clear. "I've decided," I said, my voice as firm as I could manage. "I'll allow you to be my wife. You and the child—fine. I'll protect both of you until I die."
The words hung in the air like a sentence. A declaration I wasn't sure I meant, but I knew I had to say it. "Do you understand?"
Mia—no, Miyandrel—nodded, her usual fire doused by the weight of the moment. She looked meek, small, like she hadn't expected me to accept this twisted fate. But I had my own plans.
In my mind, I was already figuring out how to play dead. A quick "death" in battle, disappearing afterward—I'd live quietly, far away. Maybe even return to my tower, barricade myself in, and finally get that peaceful, uneventful life. But I wasn't about to tell her that.
I watched her expression closely, but she didn't argue. For now, it seemed, we were both stuck playing our roles. But deep down, I knew I'd do whatever it took to escape or fail trying so.