"I'm pregnant?"
Ymina silently cursed herself. This was not the right time for Béatrice to learn such news.
She had let her guard down. After the doctor finished his check-up, they should have discussed this matter in another room.
The doctor was unaware of Béatrice's emotional and psychological state. All he knew was that she was fragile and unstable. Talking about such a delicate matter without understanding how she might take it was a reckless risk he should not have taken.
Perplexed, the doctor glanced at Ymina, unsure how to proceed.
Silence filled the room.
How is this even possible? he thought.
He had used magic and sedatives to ensure she stayed in a deep sleep. How had she developed resistance to such measures? It was beyond his understanding.
"I'm pregnant?!"
Béatrice grabbed the nearest blanket and covered herself, retreating into denial once again.
"..."
"Well, I believe we can stop using sleep magic. Let her eat regularly. I will provide a new prescription later. For now, I must take my leave."
The doctor decided to give her some time to process the news. From what little he knew, Béatrice's husband had passed away, and now she was pregnant? He assumed she would be raising her late husband's child without him.
He had done his job. It was better to leave them alone for now.
"I'll see you out," Ymina offered.
"Thank you."
Béatrice couldn't comprehend what was happening.
"I'm pregnant? How is that even possible?"
Hidden beneath her blanket, her mind was a whirlwind of confusion.
Who was that man? Why was he talking to Ymina in my room?
Questions upon questions swirled in her head. Only Ymina could answer some of them.
"I need to ask Ymina… but where should I start?"
Ha-ha-ha…
"No, this must be a nightmare. It can't be real. Me, pregnant? That's absurd."
"Unless… Oh, yes, it must be Ymina he was talking about. She's pregnant. That has to be it. When she returns, I'll congratulate her and then ask her why she hid such a thing from me."
Heh-heh.
Desperate to escape reality, Béatrice concocted a scenario in her mind that made sense of the limited information she had.
Then Ymina knocked at the door.
"Madam, it's Ymina!"
"Come in."
Ymina entered the room. An awkward silence filled the air. Or rather, it was Ymina who felt awkward. She had brought a doctor into the room without first consulting her mistress—a serious breach of etiquette among the nobility. To make up for it, she had announced herself properly before entering this time.
There was also the matter of Béatrice's newfound pregnancy, as well as her overall fragile health.
Ymina observed Béatrice, who couldn't meet her gaze.
"Is it true?"
Béatrice let out a bitter laugh. She already knew the answer Ymina would give, but she couldn't admit it to herself.
"Yes. While you were asleep, the doctor regularly monitored your condition. Recently, we discovered that a new life is forming within you."
"The fetus is already well-developed."
"With... everything that has happened recently, the father is undoubtedly..."
"Leave."
"Madam?"
"I need to rest."
Béatrice's mind fought against complete collapse, causing her even more pain. Ymina understood this. Béatrice was too strong for her own good.
In silence, Ymina left the room, closing the door gently behind her.
Another week passed, and Béatrice still hadn't left her room. Finally, she called for Ymina.
"Madam, do you need me?"
"I'm going out."
"Oh, really?!"
Ymina felt torn. On one hand, she was happy Béatrice would get some fresh air. On the other, she feared that the reason for this outing might be grim.
"I'm going to recruit a team of mercenaries."
"You... you're not planning to…?!"
Ymina turned pale. A team of mercenaries? For what purpose, she wondered. The only reason Béatrice might hire them would be for vengeance. But that was a path more dangerous than suicide.
If her mistress truly intended to avenge herself in this way, Ymina couldn't condone it.
"Why do you look so worried? I'm not foolish enough to hire mercenaries for revenge. There are other ways, even if the chances of success are just as slim. I need an escort to the dungeon."
"That's better, but it's still suicidal."
Ymina hadn't realized she was speaking her thoughts aloud, but Béatrice said nothing.
"Why go to such a dangerous place with untrustworthy people?"
"I just need to. In the meantime, I'd like you to handle something for me."
"What would you like me to do?"
"Order a device from Walpurgis. I want to get rid of this… thing inside me before it grows any further."
Sitting in her chair, Béatrice stared at her stomach. She felt nothing.
Ymina understood what Béatrice was asking. Though she had mixed feelings, she couldn't bring herself to disobey her mistress.
Shortly afterward, the device arrived—a magical artifact specially designed for extraction. It could separate two magical organisms without causing harm and preserve the extracted entity in any desired state.
Béatrice intended to use it to rid herself of the fetus.
Every time Ymina was alone, she sighed. It saddened her that Béatrice wanted to discard what might be the only child she could ever have.
"This is the SOM artifact from Walpurgis? They were thoughtful enough to include instructions."
Béatrice unpacked the device without a hint of enthusiasm.
"Yes, Madam. I made sure to keep the order discreet so no one would learn of this."
"..."
"I've hired a team of mercenaries. They will escort me to Amon's dungeon."
"Madam…"
If there was a reason behind Béatrice's decision, it didn't exist.
She simply decided to act because she wanted to. Did she find it absurd? The world already seemed absurd to her. But every action has consequences—an inevitability born of the nature of things.
All things are connected. One action triggers another. Events unfold as they must, shaped by the hero's disruptive influence on destiny, and now by the choice of a disillusioned woman.
"Are you the one who hired us for this escort mission?"
"Yes, I am Béatrice."
"Very well. My team is ready. I'll introduce everyone and give a briefing."
The dungeons of this world were ancient structures linked to the unknown. Their only common feature was the valuable resources they held.
At the entrance of Amon's dungeon—a small building in the middle of a forest—Béatrice stood with four others.
"I'm Igor, the team leader. From left to right, here's…"
"Melki, a veteran hunter. He's our eyes and ears. With him, the risk of ambushes is greatly reduced."
"At your service," Melki said, bowing slightly in mockery of noble manners.
"Danor, a former pugilist. He's our shield and possesses great strength. With him, you'll be safe."
"I'll do my best," Danor assured her.
"And Elea… uh, well, that's Elea."
"Hey, introduce me properly! I'm the only woman here, after all!"
"Anyway, that's it. The lady's name is Béatrice, and her circumstances don't concern us. Let's recap the mission objective."
"Tch," Elea huffed, annoyed at being dismissed so curtly. But she maintained a semblance of professionalism.
"Go ahead," Béatrice said indifferently. She paid little attention to such things these days.
"We'll escort the lady into the dungeon. Regardless of how far we get—provided we don't fake failure—we'll be paid."
"That's correct."
"We've made our preparations. For your safety, please follow our instructions."
The team entered Amon's dungeon.