Chapter 2
My hand, which had frozen mid-air, instinctively moved toward the metal piercings in my earlobes and along the rims of my ears. After feeling the cold metal, I lowered my hand and carefully stroked the baby’s right arm. It was rough and hard.
I felt like I’d brought something dangerous into my home, but I couldn’t just throw it back outside right away. I didn’t want to create a situation where a baby who couldn’t even open its eyes would be abandoned twice.
If I hadn’t brought it home in the first place, that would be one thing. But hadn’t I experienced firsthand what it was like to be abandoned as a child? To know that being cast aside once meant you’d be cast aside again and again?
“…It’s too cold right now.”
When the weather improved, I could find another solution. Orphanages were scattered all over this country. Maybe even a child like this would have somewhere to go—though I wasn’t sure if that could truly be called anything other than abandonment.
Just then, the baby coughed and its body jerked. It was such a small, weak movement, but I startled and pulled my hand back. That’s when I noticed the heat radiating from its body. Whether from sweat or melted snow, its forehead and hair were soaked through. At this rate, it would die. I knew it instinctively.
Whether I sent it to an orphanage or somewhere else, since I’d brought it into my home, I had to keep it alive for now. Delivering it to an orphanage with my own hands would feel less disturbing than burying it with them.
“First, I need to bring the fever down…”
I went straight to the kitchen and boiled water. I filled a pot, set it over the fire, and soaked a clean cloth in it. I rummaged through the house and found some medicine packets, but there was nothing suitable for a newborn. Besides, they were so old I couldn’t even remember when I’d gotten them.
But I had no choice. Even if I carried the baby down to the village in this weather, the hospital would be closed. And even if I woke the only doctor in the village, would they be willing to examine a baby like this? I’d probably be turned away—or worse, dragged off by the Knights.
What about going down to the village alone to get medicine? I turned to look at the baby lying on the sofa. Could I leave a child like that alone in the house? What if it was cold by the time I got back…
For now, I just roughly wiped off the medicine bottles and stuffed them in my pocket. I wrung out the thoroughly boiled cloth and began wiping down the baby. Since it wasn’t wearing any clothes, I was spared the trouble of undressing it. Despite my hands going all over its body in what should have been an uncomfortable way, the baby didn’t cry at all. Not even a whimper—just heavy, labored breathing.
I pulled a medicine bottle from my pocket. Inside the transparent glass, a red liquid sloshed around. A fever reducer. I had enough common sense to know I shouldn’t give medicine to a newborn without proper guidance, but there was nothing else I could do.
“When did I even buy this…”
I opened the cap and brought it close to my nose to check the smell, then dropped some on the back of my hand to taste it, but neither told me anything useful. At least it didn’t seem spoiled, but I had no medical knowledge. When I’d studied alchemy, there had definitely been content about drug combinations, but nothing specific came to mind now.
I got up and headed to the bookshelf in the bedroom. Maybe from tension, I only found the book I needed after scanning the shelf five times.
“Found it.”
The fifth element—Aether. Engineers like me only used it as a power source for machines, but medical practitioners also used it to create medicine by converting it into bioenergy.
Since the book only covered basic principles, I couldn’t find instructions for making a fever reducer suitable for a newborn. But I could make something that would artificially infuse the baby with energy for immediate use.
After laying the book open in a corner, I took out my Aether collector and started it up. Normally, materializing Aether was the domain of alchemists, not engineers, but I could manage it to some degree. It was precisely this ability that had allowed me—with no distinguished background or family name—to become an imperial court engineer.
The Aether materialized through the collector gave off a subtle blue light. Since it was for a baby, even a tiny fragment would be more than enough. When I dropped the small Aether shard into the water, it gradually dissolved, turning the previously clear water blue. In theory, that was all there was to it. It was such a simple process it was almost embarrassing to call it alchemy.
I took the prepared medicine and returned to the baby. It was still burning up. While wiping its body once more with the lukewarm damp cloth, I fidgeted with the medicine bottle in my other hand.
“I hope… it’s alright to give this…”
My fingertips trembled as I prepared to administer medicine made by someone who was no expert. Supporting the baby’s tiny head with one hand, I carefully placed the bottle’s opening against those small lips and tilted it. The medicine, colored like a clear sky, slowly flowed onto the baby’s mouth. Though it spat out more than it swallowed, the liquid gradually seeped through the gap between its lips.
I used my finger to push the medicine that had dribbled around its mouth back inside, all while watching the child closely. I knew there wouldn’t be any visible change right away, but I kept watching anyway.
What was it like when I was sick as a child?
At the orphanage, even when I was ill, I’d often had to just endure it. Even after meeting Plin, I couldn’t break that habit—I’d once collapsed after suffering alone in silence.
What I remember is Plin carrying me on his back at dawn, running around looking for a hospital. After I regained consciousness, Plin bought me fruit pudding. After that, whenever I got sick, he’d always buy me fruit pudding.
But even then, I’d been seven years old. Not a helpless infant who couldn’t even open its eyes like the baby in front of me now.
“Maybe I should feed it something.”
Although I’d given it medicine, I thought something soft might help, so I headed back to the kitchen.
The only thing remotely suitable was strawberries, and even those were so overripe they were practically mush. As I searched the cupboards, I found myself wondering what exactly I’d been eating all this time.
I washed the strawberries hastily—so thoroughly they completely lost their shape, not a single seed visible on the surface anymore. I transferred them to a bowl and tried mashing them with the handle of a knife to prevent lumps, but it didn’t work nearly as well as I’d hoped.
“…What should I do.”
Muttering to myself while staring at the poorly mashed strawberries, I changed tactics. Giving up on mashing, I transferred them to a pot and boiled them over high heat. As I boiled them down, adding small amounts of water, the lumps dissolved much better than before.
Thinking this would be enough, I pulled the pot off the heat and dipped my pinky in to taste it—and nearly dropped the whole thing. Biting back a groan, I quickly plunged my burning finger into cold water, but a large blister had already formed.
“Ha… stay calm. Stay calm.”
After cooling my finger adequately, I filled a large bowl with cold water and placed the pot of boiled fruit inside. Feeling rushed, I even grabbed a thin book and fanned it frantically.
Instead of using my finger, I took small spoonfuls and dropped them on the back of my hand to test the temperature. Not knowing exactly how cool it should be, I kept thinking “just a little more, just a little more,” and before I knew it, a significant amount of time had passed.
After transferring the boiled fruit juice to a small bowl, I returned to the baby. It still wasn’t crying. I couldn’t tell if it was sleeping, unconscious, or awake but simply unable to open its eyes.
I touched the baby’s cheek with the back of my hand, then dipped my finger in the fruit juice before pulling it back. The droplet clinging to my fingertip fell near the baby’s lips. The baby’s mouth twitched.
Lowering my finger closer, right in front of its lips, the baby opened its mouth slightly. I pushed one finger into that small gap, and the baby began to suck.
The sound of the snowstorm raging outside. The sound of firewood crackling in the stove. The sound of lips sucking against flesh. And the surprising strength behind that sucking for such a tiny newborn.
“Fighting to live…”
It was both impressive and heartbreaking to watch this newly born life clinging to a finger, fighting so hard to survive.
“…Huh?”
The sensation was strange. When I shifted my hand slightly from the ticklish feeling, I felt something hard. Something protruding over the lower gum. Teeth. Despite not yet being able to open its eyes, two small front teeth were already trying to emerge.
Did teeth normally grow this fast? I tried to recall what the babies at the orphanage had been like, but I couldn’t remember anything clearly. Just then, the sucking weakened, so I pulled out my finger and pushed in another one moistened with fruit juice.
“Please eat more… hm?”
Even though I put my finger in its mouth several more times, the child stopped sucking. Finally giving up on feeding it more, I lifted the baby into my arms.
I’d thought it would feel awkward, but I held it more naturally than expected. The memories from my childhood must have lingered.
Shouldn’t I burp it after feeding? I wasn’t sure if what it had done could even be called eating, but since it had taken something into its mouth and swallowed, I figured I should try.
I rested the baby’s face against my shoulder and supported its bottom with one hand. Patting its back gently with my other hand, I settled into the rocking chair near the stove and began to rock slowly.
Maybe because our bodies were pressed so close together, warmth seemed to spread from my cheek to my shoulder, my chest, my palm. The baby’s face against my shoulder burned with fever.
The wind battering the window was still fierce. It would be nice if the weather calmed when morning came, but I had no way of knowing if that wish would be granted. I couldn’t predict tomorrow’s weather, but it seemed clear I’d need to go down to the village no matter what.
