Hero’s Child C43

Chapter 43

“I’ve been thinking, Phantom,” Hyde began, his tone casual but edged with purpose. “It seems this time, you’ll have to move personally. I can’t entrust this task to anyone else—it makes me uneasy.”

“If it’s about the youngest,” the Phantom replied, his monocle glinting as he adjusted it with a faint smirk, “then I suppose it can’t be helped. Tell me what you need. After all, everything we do is for our brothers, isn’t it?”

Hyde gave a small, approving chuckle, patting the thief’s shoulder twice. Compliments were rare from him, so when they came, they always carried weight. It meant responsibility—something delicate, something important.

Whenever Hyde said things like that, Phantom Kill knew: he was being trusted with something that could not fail. He’d investigate with precision, execute flawlessly—and this time would be no exception.

“I like you, Phantom. You and I understand each other too well,” Hyde said, smiling faintly.

Kill sighed, already resigned. “So, I take it I won’t be seeing my brothers for a while.”

“Don’t be so gloomy. I’ll keep them informed. And if you miss Uichan, you can always write. This is all for our sake, after all, isn’t it?”

“…Letters, is it? Hah.” Kill rubbed his temple. “Fine. What do you need me to do?”

Hyde’s gaze dropped to the wooden box where the goblin’s remains were neatly packed away. The otters that had cleaned the floor were now grooming each other, calm and orderly, before vanishing with a soft pop.

“I need you to steal something. Quietly. No traces, no witnesses. I’ll tell you the time and place later.”

“Is it related to the ear we gave to Mother Ship?”

Hyde tilted his head. “I’ll know when I see what you bring me. But… let’s hope it isn’t.”

Kill collected the scattered playing cards and slipped them back into his deck. The bodies were gone, but the goblin’s spilled blood still painted the floor in a thick, metallic sheen. Hyde snapped his fingers, and the scenery around them warped.

In an instant, the dungeon melted away, replaced by a highland meadow blooming with wildflowers.

“And what about you, Hyde? What will you be doing?”

“I have another task,” he said softly, turning his back to walk into the field.

Then he paused, reaching down to pluck a crimson flower from the grass. The petals opened brazenly beneath his touch, bold and beautiful, unashamed of the attention it drew.

Kill blinked, startled. The man standing before him was no longer Hyde.

He had changed his face—his “skin”—and now looked like an utterly ordinary man. Not a trace of the terrifying beauty Hyde usually favored remained. His new appearance was plain, almost forgettable, the kind of face that slipped through one’s memory like mist.

Yet that was precisely what unsettled Kill. Hyde had always crafted his disguises with artful perfection, turning every form into something dazzling. But this time, he’d chosen anonymity.

“So, for now,” Hyde said with a faint smile, “don’t follow me. It’s been a while since we’ve all had some privacy, hasn’t it?”

Kill opened his mouth to question him but stopped. He knew better than to pry into Hyde’s thoughts. The man’s heart was a labyrinth—deep, dark, and filled with things no one could safely touch.

For now, it was enough to do his part: clear the path of danger, maintain the fragile peace among their brotherhood.

He watched until Hyde’s figure vanished into the sea of flowers, the air still scented faintly with blood beneath the mountain breeze.

Uichan held the new ultrasound photo carefully between both hands, staring at it in quiet awe.

Three small beans nestled within the grainy image—tiny lives he still couldn’t quite believe were real. Even the third, which had been hidden between the other two before, was now faintly visible within its sac. But it was still blurry, fragile, like a candle flame flickering in the wind.

“Mr. Ha Uichan, you said you haven’t had any severe pain since that day, correct?”

“Ah—yes. That’s right.”

“And have you spoken to the fathers yet?”

“…”

Uichan lowered his head, the photo trembling slightly in his grip. The doctor sighed, smiling awkwardly at the silence. With triplets, there were bound to be complicated circumstances—and sometimes, fathers who chose to disappear. It wasn’t his place to judge.

Instead, Dr. Oh Juhyuk cleared his throat and began explaining calmly.

“For now, the babies are holding on well. But… their growth rates are off. About a two-week difference between them. If that gap widens, it could become dangerous.”

His tone was even, but the meaning landed like a weight in Uichan’s chest.

“If the growth difference keeps increasing,” the doctor continued gently, “it might lead to miscarriage. You should have a serious talk with the fathers before that happens.”

Should I ask about the healed wound?

He hesitated but swallowed the thought. No—if he brought that up now, it would only complicate things.

He’d secretly hoped that one of the babies—the one with the mysterious healing ability—might have helped the weakest of the three recover. But the results crushed that hope.

All three had grown slightly, yes, but the third still struggled, its heartbeat faint, its body fighting just to exist.

Talking about recovery now would only invite suspicion. It was better to wait, to be sure.

After listening to a few more medical instructions, Uichan tucked the ultrasound photo carefully into his bag and left the consultation room.

As he stepped into the corridor, a nurse called the next patient. Their shoulders brushed as they passed. Uichan looked up, his cap pulled low. The man was tall, broad-shouldered, with a calm, unremarkable face.

“I—sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” Uichan said quickly.

“No, my fault. I didn’t see you there,” the man replied politely, his voice low and warm. Then his eyes flicked to Uichan’s belly. “You came out alone… Are you a male expectant parent?”

Uichan blinked, startled, glancing around to make sure the corridor was empty. This hospital specialized in both male and female obstetrics—it wasn’t a strange question. People in his position sometimes recognized each other.

But something about the man didn’t fit. His physique, his presence—it radiated strength. He looked too composed, too steady to seem like someone in Uichan’s condition.

Still, Uichan reminded himself that everyone had private circumstances. He couldn’t assume anything. The man wasn’t wearing a ring, nor did anyone accompany him. Alone, then.

“Yes, something like that,” Uichan said cautiously. “But how did you know?”

“Pure coincidence,” the man said with an easy smile. “I’m expecting too.”

…What?

Uichan blinked rapidly, eyes widening as he looked up at the much taller man. Seeing his disbelief, the stranger scratched his neck and laughed awkwardly.

“Haha… yeah, I know how that sounds. I didn’t believe it myself until a few days ago. So… how many weeks along are you?”

“Oh—uh, sorry. You just… sounded familiar. I’m at eight weeks.”

“I’m nine,” the man replied, smiling. “We’re almost the same. Anyway, I should go. Take care of yourself—and I hope your baby’s beautiful.”

“Thank you. I hope yours is too.”

The words beautiful baby filled Uichan’s chest with a strange warmth. For the first time in days, he felt less alone. The world, it seemed, had more people like him than he thought.

Feeling oddly lighthearted, he stepped out into the sun, crossing toward the traffic light.

Then—

“Ah…”

A sharp pang spread across his lower abdomen. Not unusual, he told himself. It happened sometimes. He decided to wait it out, buying the babies’ favorite chocolate drink and sitting on a bench near the hospital to rest.

But the pain only grew.

“This… feels wrong.”

Was it the babies again? Were they fighting? His stomach churned with fear.

He rubbed his belly anxiously, glancing at the hospital sign across the street. Maybe he should go back. But what could they even do? A painkiller, perhaps—but nothing to truly stop this.

“Still… maybe I should—”

He pushed himself up, planning to hurry back before it got worse. But his knees buckled, and he collapsed back onto the bench.

“Ah… hhh…”

The pain spiked so sharply it took his breath away. Sweat drenched his body; he gripped the edge of the bench with trembling hands. The chocolate drink toppled from his grasp, spilling over the ground in a dark puddle.

“N-no… please… babies…”

He curled forward, clutching his stomach. The pain wasn’t as terrifying as the thought of losing them. If the third one failed—and if the others followed—

He tried to stand, to move, but his body wouldn’t listen. His vision blurred.

And then—he realized someone was in front of him.

A man knelt down, not caring about the spilled drink soaking into his knees.

Through the haze of his vision, Uichan strained to focus—and saw—

“Uichan.”

The voice was gentle. Familiar.

A man in a pristine shirt and gray eyes smiled down at him, his tone soft and intoxicating.

“What are you doing here?”

He reached out, removing Uichan’s thick-rimmed glasses and brushing his cheek with a cool hand.

The chill of that touch hit Uichan like water in a desert. Burning with fever, he clung to it instinctively, breathing raggedly.

“Ha… ngh…”

“Do you need help?” the man asked quietly, his eyes unwavering.