Soon, exhaustion overwhelmed Aether. His tiny body yawned involuntarily, and his eyes fluttered closed.
Inside, Aden sighed in frustration with his adult voice playing in his head.
"Stupid baby body," he thought, annoyed. "I didn't ask to be knocked out like this."
Jean noticed the baby struggle to remain awake and smiled gently. She turned to the nearby maids.
"Take him to his room," she instructed softly. "Make sure he sleeps comfortably. Stay with him until I come."
The maids nodded, bowing respectfully, and carried the sleeping infant out of her lap with great care.
Jean sighed, running a hand through her hair. She let a slight breeze of anemo wind energy swirl around her face and cool it down.
"I crave something sweet," she murmured. "Maybe… some Dango milk."
Diluc raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Still obsessed with that Inazuman specialty, huh?"
Jean gave him a playful glance. "It's relaxing, honey. You wouldn't understand."
Diluc chuckled. "Seems like your Kamisato friends are rubbing off on you too much."
Jean walked over to the table and sat down, stretching her legs. "And what's wrong with that?" she asked, teasing. "Dango milk is therapeutic, babe. You should try it sometime."
Diluc poured himself a small glass of wine from a nearby bottle. "This is fine for me."
Jean giggled softly. "Of course it is. You are always suggesting it as a performance booster for the knights."
"It's true," Diluc said with a grin. "They'll need courage to fight off hilichurls and Abyss Mages. "
Jean stood, her expression playful, and walked over to him, slipping her arms weakly around his waist.
"Or maybe you just want to boost sales," she teased.
Diluc cautiously wrapped an arm around her shoulder, his voice lowering. "But I'd sell the whole winery if it meant keeping you happy."
Jean laughed, leaning her forehead against his chest. "You're smooth tonight. What's gotten into you?"
Diluc glanced down at her, "You are looking very energetic as well."
Jean raised an eyebrow. "Trying to distract me from resting, are you?"
"Maybe," he admitted. "You look radiant."
She playfully tapped his chest with a finger. "The doctor said a week."
Diluc frowned. "I'll have a word with that doctor."
Jean laughed again and pulled him closer with the strength she had left.
The long night was exceptionally quiet. Moonlight spilled through the tall windows, casting pale streaks across the nursery walls. A gentle breeze stirred the white curtains, making them flutter like ghostly hands reaching inward.
Aden stirred in his crib.
His stomach growled.
The hunger twisted inside him, pulling him awake. He groaned instinctively, trying to call out—but the sound that came from his mouth was a sharp, pitiful wail. He stopped, wide-eyed, horrified by the sound.
"Ugh… seriously? I'm crying?" his adult voice rebuked him.
He felt embarrassed. He was a grown adult—well, he had been. Now reduced to an infant, crying for food in the middle of the night. He clenched his tiny fists in frustration.
But then again… how else was he supposed to get fed?
As he debated whether to cry again, a flicker of blue light blinked before his eyes.
[System Installation... 30%]
Aden's breath caught. He had almost forgotten about it— the system that had started installing. The message faded after around a minute, and he took it as a courtesy notification. A sense of eagerness overcame him as he started longing to see what cheats and hacks awaited him in this reincarnation life.
He stared up at the ceiling, running through fantasies about it—until something shifted.
A sudden crackle in the air. The warm glow of the chandeliers above him dimmed. One by one, the candles extinguished with a hiss, as though an invisible wind was snuffing them out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Aden's tiny body froze.
Then came the cold.
A chilling wave swept through the nursery, unnatural and sharp. The warmth of his blankets faded and they felt like ice blocks wrapped around him. His breath fogged in the air as his lungs grew heavier. He tried to move, but it was like his limbs had gone numb.
Then—he saw it.
Floating above him, just within reach of the shadows, was a shape.
Small, pale and seemingly emaciated. Her fearful eyes stared straight down at him.
Paimon.
Her expression was blank. Lifeless. Her floating body was still, too still, like a puppet on invisible strings.
Behind her, the ceiling warped.
Where the chandelier had been, a twisted, inverted version of the Statue of the Seven emerged—its mouth stretched open, hollow and endless. It stared down with eyes that bled red with blood and darkness, shifting, squirming.
Aden opened his mouth to scream—
But no sound came out.
His voice was gone. The world tilted. The shadows writhed. Whispers crept into his ears—jagged, broken words he couldn't understand.
[System Installation… 35%]
The message flickered again, pulsing like a heartbeat.
And then—
Light.
Jean BURST through the door, her hair wild, her eyes blazing with panic.
"I heard him cry!" she shouted. "Why wasn't anyone—"
She stopped.
The maids ran in behind her, confused. "My lady," one began nervously, "we… we didn't hear anything. The child hasn't made a sound."
Diluc followed, his brows furrowed. "Jean, are you sure? You might be—"
But Jean didn't hear them. Her eyes were locked on her baby—quietly staring at him with wide, alert eyes.
The candles on the chandelier subtly flickered back to life as the chill in the air vanished. The room returned to normal.
But Aden's gaze was fixed behind what was behind Jean.
Just for a moment, just a second too long— He saw the edge of a tiny white cape disappear behind his mother's shoulder.
Jean stepped closer to the crib, her expression softening with concern.
"You were crying," she said softly, brushing his forehead. "I know I heard you."
Aden said nothing—could say nothing—but his tiny hands gripped the edge of the blanket that had now gone back to being soft and warm.