The Maid With a Child - Chapter 30

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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30. Hands
Adlen shook her head hastily, forcing a smile onto her face.
“Oh, no, it’s just—my jaw’s been feeling stiff today, that’s all.”
It had already been over a month since she’d started living in his room. Her nerves had naturally grown slack.
She’d wake half-asleep in the morning and greet him with a mumbled “Morning…” before moving on. She could sprawl carelessly on the sofa, and even when she saw him come home while she was lounging about, she could manage a lazy “Oh, you’re back” without so much as a start. She’d learned to rise without alarm.
Her master proved remarkably forbearing.
More than forbearing—he was magnanimous in a way that seemed almost inhuman. As if he had neither blood nor tears, and therefore no anger either.
Yet she couldn’t let herself slip into carelessness. No matter how generous he was to her, a maidservant didn’t become a lady. She had to keep her wits about her.
She was trying to at least feign eating out of respect for his efforts when the Baby stirred with a fretful sound.
“Uh… mmm…”
“Oh, Baby, is something wrong?”
Adlen seized the moment as though it were gold, jumping up from her seat. A Baby-related excuse—perfect!
“Are you sleepy? Master, I’ll just put the Baby down to rest and be right back.”
She made to flee.
But before she could, Lacalte glanced at the Baby, made a small sound, and rose from his chair.
“Master…?”
“I’ll hold him for a bit.”
“Pardon? You, Master?”
Adlen looked up at Lacalte in shock from where she sat, as though he’d just offered her ten extra bowls of food.
Lacalte opened his arms and gestured with his chin.
“That’s right. I’ve been too busy all this time to think about learning how to care for the Baby properly.”
“But Master, why would you…? There’s no need…”
“Whether I entrust him to you or not, ultimately it’s my responsibility. I ought to know the basics of handling a child, don’t you think?”
“No, I mean…”
“And if there’s someone to help out even briefly, it’ll give you a chance to catch your breath.”
Her master’s words made sense. Having more people to look after the child was good for both her and the Baby.
Yet could she really rest easy handing the Baby over to him?
As Adlen hesitated, unwilling to hand the Baby over, Lacalte opened his broad chest wider still.
It was a posture of unmistakable determination.
“Very well…”
Adlen reluctantly offered the Baby up.
Lacalte carefully drew the arm cradling the Baby toward himself. It was an absurd situation—an enemy general holding the heir of an enemy kingdom close to his chest.
Yet Lacalte was grave about it. In this moment, his face was not that of a man holding an adversary’s heir, but of one cradling a life for which he bore responsibility.
“Is this the right way to hold him? Like this? Should I rock him like this?”
Lacalte’s forearm was more than twice as thick as Adlen’s. In those arms, the Baby—who had grown enough that Adlen worried she’d soon be unable to carry him—suddenly looked small again, newborn once more.
“Uh… mmm…”
Though it looked incredibly comfortable and plush, the Baby, sensing the unfamiliarity of these new arms, squirmed and fretted. His small limbs thrashed with unusual vigor.
“What’s the problem? I’m holding him much the way you do.”
“Well… it does look similar, but… maybe I should tuck my arms in more? Cup the bottom, maybe…?”
“Like this? Is this it?”
“Eee-ing…”
The Baby’s whimpering grew louder, like thunder before a downpour. His thrashing intensified. A vigorous kick from the Baby’s small foot struck Lacalte’s abdomen with an audible thwack.
It was only a baby’s foot, yet the sound rang out sharply.
“Oh! Are you—are you all right?”
Adlen flinched as if the blow had landed on her, her breath catching in her throat.
“What is?”
Lacalte himself seemed oblivious to what had happened, focused entirely on holding the Baby.
“Uh-uh-uh! Kree!”
There was no time to dwell on Lacalte’s abdomen—the Baby’s ominous whimpering demanded all their attention.
“No, I mean—more gently, just a little… wait, pardon me, Master.”
What followed was a touching, desperate attempt by two adults to prevent disaster before it arrived.
Adlen, growing frantic, seized Lacalte’s forearm.
“!”
Lacalte’s eyes lifted from the Baby and fixed on Adlen.
Adlen, absorbed in adjusting the position, didn’t notice his gaze.
She guided his arm back and forth, fine-tuning the angle.
“Hhh… mmm…”
The moment the Baby began to cry in earnest was not the end—it was only the beginning.
Was it the angle of the arm? The curve of the back? The spacing of the fingers?
Adlen, thinking nothing of it, carefully adjusted Lacalte’s body this way and that, her hands moving over her master’s form without the slightest awareness of what she was doing.
“Mmm…….”
The Baby’s babbling, which had been turning restless as if about to cry, stopped abruptly. Instead, a long sigh escaped, and the little one pressed one cheek against Lacalte’s chest, all tension draining from that small body.
“!”
“!”
Both of them held their breath at once, gazing down at the Baby.
After watching for a long moment, the infant’s breathing remained steady and calm.
It had worked.
Lacalte had succeeded in soothing the Baby.
“……Did it actually work?”
Lacalte whispered, his voice barely above nothing.
“Yes, yes.”
Adlen too spoke in a voice like air itself, staring at the Baby in wonder.
How was this even possible.
A miracle had occurred.
The two of them stood entranced, gazing down at the sleeping child for some time.
“……Oh.”
And only then did they realize their hands had become intertwined.
Adlen’s eyes darted downward.
Lacalte’s followed hers in the same direction.
Long, firm fingers callused from wear—skin so pale it was nearly translucent despite the campaigns, a consequence perhaps of constant armor. If anything, Adlen’s hands, weathered from labor beneath the open sun, bore the darker tint. These two contrasting hands were joined together.
Both their gazes locked on that single point.
“Ah, ah, oh! I’m terribly sorry! Without thinking, I just—!”
Adlen jumped as if burned and snatched her hand away.
Lacalte’s eyes lingered where Adlen’s hand had been. Though she was gone, the warmth she’d left behind remained.
A hand.
Hand-holding was something that happened all the time in daily life. Nothing remarkable about it, nothing remarkable about the place itself.
Yet the sensation lingering in his palm kept demanding his attention.
Her hand was rougher than he might have expected. Calloused in places, coarse. And yet, somehow, it felt warm and gentle.
“Um, sir……. Is the place where the Baby hit you alright?”
Adlen asked hesitantly, trying to pull the conversation away from the awkward silence.
“Earlier, where the Baby struck you…… The sound was terrible. I do hope it’s not an old wound that’s been aggravated?”
Lacalte let out a dry laugh.
“It’s been healed for ages.”
“Ah……. That’s a relief. Still, you should be careful not to strain it.”
She’d meant only to change the subject, but now concern welled up in her. Adlen peered at Lacalte’s abdomen with genuine worry creasing her features.
“Are you quite certain it’s fully healed?”
Adlen had only tended to his wound through the fifth day.
After that, he’d refused, insisting it no longer needed care.
“It’s fully healed, I tell you.”
“Truly?”
“Want to see?”
Lacalte made as if to pull up his shirt with one arm, gesturing dismissively.
“No! No, please, no!”
Adlen cried out in alarm, startled enough that the Baby’s eyes flew open.
“Waaah!”
“Sir, someone from the Trading Company has come to see you.”
The Butler’s voice arrived on cue.
“……I’ll need to see them. Finish your meal slowly.”
“……Yes.”
Lacalte handed the Baby to Adlen and departed the room.
Walking down the corridor, his hand brushed absently against his shirt. He closed his empty hand once, then opened it again.
Then he drew his fingers across his abdomen, where only scars remained now.
His young maid, who worried over wounds long since healed, had Bandages wound tightly around both her wrists. The same Bandages he tied on her every morning.
At this rate, soon wrists alone would no longer suffice—he’d be binding her waist, her knees, her ankles too.
Here she was, never without Bandages, yet asking after his wounds.
Lacalte let out another quiet laugh at his presumptuous maid’s meddling concern.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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