Under pressure from the Emperor, I was forced to carry that bastard's child in my body. Even knowing it was a cruel scheme to perfectly control and tame me, the hero of the empire, I swallowed that humiliation and conceived the child.

However, the being settled inside me began to cruelly eat away at me. Due to severe morning sickness, I couldn't even swallow a sip of water, suffering all day from a nausea that felt like my internal organs were twisting. The sharp sense of betrayal toward the Emperor and the hatred for the child growing inside me tangled together, causing agonizing pain.

Yet, ironically, the only way to quiet this terrible pain was the presence of the child's father. Whenever that dry, cold iris scent—devoid of even a hint of sweetness—passed by me, the nausea and sickness raging inside my body subsided as if they had never existed.

My skin crawled at how my body reacted completely contrary to my will. This child, who was ruining my life, found peace only in the cold scent emanating from its father.

This horrific contradiction—that I could only breathe properly by depending on the scent of the bastard I so despised and loathed—miserably cut through my pride.