Hero’s Child C8

Chapter 8

“Ha… if it hurts too much, just tell me….”

A hand pressed against his lips, and Uichan’s eyes shut tightly. A strange shiver ran down his spine—a tingling, uncontrollable impulse that felt almost maddening. There were three of them. Three…

He couldn’t remember what he said in response, but he was certain he’d long since passed the point of resistance. What could he possibly have said to stop them? It must have been consent.

He didn’t know how long they stayed entangled like that. He’d hold on until he blacked out, then wake up to the same thing, over and over again. Then there came a moment when everything simply went black.

When he awoke again, Uichan was buried beneath a thick layer of clothes, sleeping in the arms of the men. He was drifting in a daze of fatigue when a sudden burst of light above made him jerk upright.

“We found it! It’s open!”

Heroes from above had finally succeeded in prying open the Earthen Maw and were calling to one another as they descended into the pit. Uichan immediately checked his bracelet—thankfully, the facial recognition jammer was still functioning.

As the rescuers began lowering themselves into the pit, a single blue petal fluttered down through the air. Everyone stopped, transfixed by the sight of it. When the petal finally reached the bottom and landed lightly on Uichan’s shoulder—

—Our youngest was here all along. Then, if you’ll excuse us.

With a soft pop, a single Joker card erupted into a puff of smoke, engulfing Uichan completely. The smoke cleared, leaving only a swirl of blue petals in his place. The heroes shouted in panic and scrambled out of the pit to escape the sudden gale that followed.

“It was In the Hell!”

When the petals settled, only three figures remained at the bottom—Korea’s three great heroes.

But something about them was off. Their eyes were vacant, unfocused. Without saying a word, they stood and climbed out of the pit. Their appearances were disheveled, their clothes in disarray—but not enough to betray what had truly happened inside.

From that day on, however, a strange madness took hold. The three heroes began scouring the nation in search of one man—Under Doom.

Meanwhile, Uichan had been retrieved by Phantom Thief Kill, who took him back to In the Hell’s hideout and, with a click of his tongue at the sight of Uichan’s mud-caked state, shoved him into an empty room with a bath.

He had slept like the dead for three full days. The exhaustion was overwhelming. By the time he’d managed to wash and drag himself to bed, a fever had already begun to burn through him.

Normally, such mistakes would have filled him with regret or shame—but Uichan had no room left for that. More precisely, he had no energy to feel it. Instead, what kept resurfacing in his mind were the gentle hands that had touched him, the desperate way he’d been held. The memory made his chest flutter strangely.

He didn’t understand why. No matter how much he thought about it, there was no answer. All he knew was that… he didn’t dislike it.

Still, personal matters aside, Under Doom had soon tracked down Seok Myeongcheol, who had tried to kill him that night. The man had been captured by Mother Ship and strung up like a carcass, but had somehow managed to slip away when no one was watching.

His talent for escape was uncanny. Yet when Uichan finally cornered him, the once-defiant villain could no longer speak a word.

That day, Seok Myeongcheol’s ribs and limbs were shattered and bent backward. Even so, his unnatural resilience mended him within a day. Uichan made sure to extract a written oath, forcing him to swear he’d never escape again. The tear-stained document now rested quietly in Uichan’s bedside drawer.

Whatever the cause, attempting to kill him inside that pit had been unforgivable. And considering Uichan’s current condition, his retaliation was nothing less than justified.

Because yes—Ha Uichan was now suffering miserably. To be precise, he had been utterly defeated… by morning sickness.

Cough, cough…

Is the road to parenthood always this cruel?

He’d never imagined it would be this difficult. Only three days had passed since his hospital visit, yet his body was already turning against him sooner than the doctor had predicted.

When he was hungry, he had to eat something—anything—or his anxiety spiked. But if he ate even a little too much, his stomach revolted, and he spent the night heaving into a basin. It drained him to the point of exhaustion.

The doctor had said that a small number of male carriers experience abdominal pain or cramping in early stages, assuring him it was natural. But was this really what “natural” felt like?

After rinsing his mouth, Uichan stumbled out of the bathroom, rubbing his trembling arms before crawling back into bed. The world spun dizzyingly. Despite religiously taking the iron and folic acid the doctor had prescribed, bouts of vertigo still struck without warning.

He had grown so weak that his days were now spent shut inside, barely functioning.

“Ugh…”

Another cramp twisted through him. Fear began to set in. He’d closed his eyes hoping to sleep it off, but the pain only worsened.

There wasn’t much research on male pregnancies, so he had resorted to reading medical texts on his own. Most men, the books said, experienced only mild cramps and no nausea at all. Then why was his body constantly aching and rebelling against him?

Could pregnancy even cause this kind of pain?

“…Maybe it’s because they’re twins.”

Or perhaps because they’re heroes’ children.

Muttering to himself through dry, cracked lips, Uichan winced. The pain felt like someone hammering against his gut. Finally, he threw off the blanket and staggered to his feet. He remembered that sweets sometimes eased the cramping and made his way to the kitchen.

It was a temporary fix, but better than suffering helplessly.

“Okay… I’ll give you milk. Both of you, calm down for a bit.”

He opened the fridge, grabbed a black paper carton of chocolate milk, tore it open, and drank greedily. The carton was empty in seconds, so he reached for another and downed it just as fast.

Leaning against the counter, he waited. Slowly, the pain began to fade. He ran his hand over his flat stomach, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead—the heat was still there. How long would this last? The doctor had said the early phase would be the hardest, and that it would soon pass.

“You two… just who’s your father, anyway?”

Three faces flashed through his mind. He’d shared that night in the pit with Noatis, La Épée, and Blacktan. It meant the twins’ fathers were among them—or perhaps… all of them.

“…Two out of three, maybe. One would be ideal, but still.”

Call it a mistake, call it an accident—it had been something beyond his control. Even so, it hadn’t been unwanted. Whatever had happened that night hadn’t been forced. There was no reason to expose it or turn it into a scandal.

By law, if even one parent possessed an ability, the child’s birth registration required both parents’ ability certifications—and if the ability was classified as high-risk, a genetic report was mandatory.

If the father couldn’t be identified, the child would be placed under government guardianship until their ability awakened—“protection,” as the officials called it, though in truth it was surveillance.

To Ha Uichan, that was unacceptable. There was only one path forward: steal the heroes’ ability records and submit them himself.

Erasing the children was never an option. Nor was surrendering them to the government’s control.

They had come into his life unplanned, but he was determined to raise them well—because they would be his only family in this world.

[Beep—It is now seven a.m.]

The mechanical voice from the wall clock broke the silence.

“Ah… time to go to work.”

Uichan lifted his head toward the balcony, watching the scarlet sun rise over the pale horizon. He had stayed awake all night battling nausea and pain. There was no time to rest, though—he’d already taken several days off, and the head of his security agency had demanded he report in today.

He moved quickly, washing up, sipping a warm cup of tea, and toasting two slices of bread. Cutting them cleanly in half, he ate each piece carefully. Then, from the fridge, he took out a red apple and clumsily peeled it, dividing it neatly into two even halves.

He ate one half, then the other.

“Don’t fight, okay? I gave you one each.”

The twins couldn’t hear him, of course—but saying it out loud made him feel strangely content.

Two bites of side dish. Two spoonfuls of rice. Two sips of water. Even fruit had to be eaten in pairs. It made him feel as if he were treating them both fairly.

When he checked the clock again, it was already past eight. He put on a light jacket, perched his thick-rimmed glasses on his nose, and watched his reflection blur into something plain and forgettable. After ruffling his hair, he grabbed his phone, slipped on his sneakers, and made sure to stuff snacks into his pocket.

“Good. All set.”

The click of the door echoed softly through the apartment. A gentle spring breeze swept into the entryway, carrying a single pale blossom that drifted lazily before settling on the living room floor.