Villain: System Supremacy
The room was thick with tension, the air heavy with antiseptic, and the faint sound of strained breathing filled the space. The woman on the bed, her raven-black hair clinging to her forehead with sweat, was drenched in perspiration. Each breath was more ragged than the last, her body trembling with the effort of bringing new life into the world. Her blue eyes were wide, filled with both pain and determination, and her jaw was clenched tight as she gripped the edge of the bed, her fingers turning white with the pressure.
"Push just a little more, madam. He's almost here," the female doctor urged, her voice calm but firm as she remained beside the woman, hands steady, her gaze full of practiced care.
With a sharp inhale, the woman pushed again, her body shaking with each wave of pain. The doctor remained close, her voice a soft, steady anchor amidst the storm of emotion and physical strain.
Outside the room, a tall man stood near the window, his dark gray hair and sharp gray eyes staring into the storm brewing outside. The sky, a swirling mass of dark clouds, seemed to mirror the turmoil in his heart. The wind howled, rattling the trees, their branches swaying violently as if caught in an unseen dance. His thoughts were consumed by the woman inside, the one who had given him everything—love, life, and the promise of family. The weight of what was unfolding pressed down on him like a heavy stone, but his expression remained unreadable, his posture stiff and stoic.
A soft tug on his hand broke his concentration. He looked down to see a small girl, no older than three, staring up at him with wide, trusting blue eyes. Her tiny hand gripped his, her gaze filled with concern.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. Momma's going to be fine, alright?" He spoke with a steadiness that betrayed the faintest hint of care. His voice, though routine, carried the weight of reassurance.
The little girl nodded, her worry not fully erased but soothed by his words. She peered up at the sky, brow furrowing as the clouds darkened even further. Just then, a beam of sunlight pierced through the storm, casting a warm, golden glow over the world below. The contrast between the light and dark seemed almost otherworldly, as though nature itself was fighting against the encroaching gloom.
The little girl squinted against the brightness, and at that moment, the unmistakable cry of a newborn baby echoed from within the room. The cry started weak but grew stronger, a sound that filled the air with life. Both the man and the girl turned toward the door, their faces lighting up with a mix of relief, anticipation, and wonder.
Inside, the woman lay exhausted, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of the ordeal. Her breath was slow and uneven as she gazed down at the infant in her arms. His tiny face scrunched up in confusion as he cried, his small hands flailing in the air. The doctor, her eyes kind and her smile gentle, stood nearby, watching the two.
"Where's my other baby?" the woman asked weakly, her voice strained.
"Just give us a moment," the doctor replied, her voice reassuring as she walked over to the table where the second baby lay.
The second baby, swaddled in a soft blanket, lay still. His skin was unnaturally pale, and his fragile body seemed too delicate. The doctor's heart sank as she gently lifted him into her arms, his lifeless weight sending a shiver of unease through her.
The door creaked open, and the Duke entered, his tall frame casting a long shadow in the dim light. His gray eyes scanned the room, falling first on his wife, then on the two infants in her arms. His expression remained unreadable, his face a mask of control. The weight of the situation hung in the air, but his composure was immaculate.
"I'm here, dear," he said in a steady voice, though there was a strange distance in his tone. He placed a hand on her shoulder, but the touch was detached, more a formality than an expression of tenderness.
The woman smiled weakly up at him, momentarily lifting her gaze from the two newborns. "Alice, come meet your baby brothers," she whispered, motioning for their young daughter to come closer.
Alice, no more than three years old, scampered over and climbed onto the bed. Her wide eyes, filled with awe, stared down at the babies in her mother's arms. The Duke's gaze shifted between the two infants, but it lingered on the still one—the baby whose body appeared too fragile, whose skin was an unnatural shade of pale. His lips thinned, and a flicker of unease passed through his eyes, though his face remained stoic.
"How about Mykel and Lucas?" the woman asked softly, her voice a mix of love and worry. She looked at her husband, silently searching for reassurance.
The Duke's expression remained unchanged, but his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at the two babies. His fingers twitched, a sign of something bubbling beneath the surface. "Lucas for the first, and Mykel for the second," he answered flatly, his tone devoid of warmth or affection.
The woman nodded, a faint smile appearing on her lips as she whispered, "Lucas, Mykel," as if the names held a weight she couldn't express.
The doctor, sensing the tension that had thickened in the air, spoke up, her voice soft but trying to offer some comfort. "He's just a little weak, but he'll be fine. We'll keep an eye on him."
The Duke's gaze remained fixed on the still baby, his thoughts clouded. Despite the doctor's assurances, an unsettling feeling gnawed at him. He nodded absently, but his mind was elsewhere.
Alice, unaware of the underlying worry, leaned in closer to get a better look at her brothers. Her innocent eyes sparkled with excitement as she gently reached out to touch their tiny hands. "They're so small, Momma," she said in awe. "I can't wait to play with them."
Her words, innocent and pure, brought a momentary peace to the room, but the Duke's mind was still clouded with unease. His eyes flicked once more to Lucas, the pale, still child in his wife's arms. The discomfort in his chest only grew stronger, but he maintained his composure, his indifference a wall against the storm of his emotions.