Chapter 25
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Finally, the Social Dance
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After naming the baby "Yeppi," a strange change came over our daily life as a couple.
The biggest change was in me.
"Our little Yeppi~ Did you sleep well in Mommy's tummy today?"
"......"
Every morning, I greeted Kara's belly, and without realizing it, my tongue started forming those babyish sounds.
It didn't suit my usual deep, gravelly voice at all—like a bear trying to act cute.
At first, Kara recoiled with a "That's creepy, stop it!" but now she'd given up and just smirked.
There were some unexpected benefits, too.
I'd grown close to Kara, but my massive build still made me intimidating to the smaller maids.
But seeing me coo at the baby like that completely melted the mansion staff's wariness.
"Oh my, Lord Barg. Talking to the baby again?"
"Yeppi must like Daddy's voice."
The maids giggled and approached me more freely whenever Kara was nearby.
The baby wasn't even showing yet, but everyone doted on Yeppi and showered blessings.
Thanks to that, Kara's morning sickness eased up considerably.
She still craved Norheim food, of course...
But her references had broadened.
"Hmm... I feel like something sweet today."
Kara started asking for tarts, fruit drinks, and puddings shipped in from famous dessert shops and cafes in Eisen Guard territory.
The problem was the portions.
"This one's too sweet. Want a bite?"
"The texture on this is off. Finish half?"
Like a gourmet critic, Kara would take one taste and set it aside.
And the leftovers?
Naturally, they fell to me.
"Can't let it go to waste. Guess I'll handle it."
I became the human garbage disposal for Kara's desserts.
A few days passed like that.
"Huh? Barg, isn't your jawline getting a bit blurry?"
Kara pinched my cheek and teased me.
"You've gained weight, hubby. Gonna get too slow to hunt frost bears?"
"...You're not exactly slim yourself. Your cheeks are all plump."
"What?! Calling an expectant mom fat! This is just swelling, swelling!"
Kara pouted, but it was true.
We were both eating well and resting plenty, so we'd both plumped up nicely.
Proof of happiness, sure—but as warriors, it sparked some alarm.
That's why this social dance lesson meant even more.
It was exercise to trim the gut and loosen our stiffening bodies, disguised as a hobby.
Of course, when the Eisen Baron wasn't watching, we'd spar like we did as kids for workouts.
"Lord Barg! Miss Kara! Sparring's fine, but real swords?!"
We'd gotten an earful for that.
The mansion's banquet annex.
The Eisen Baron took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.
"Well then, Lord Barg. It's time for our promised lesson."
He flashed his glasses at me and extended a hand.
"Miss Kara needs her rest, so practice steps with me. I'll lead."
The mental image alone was horrifying.
A two-meter barbarian and a slender middle-aged gentleman, arms around each other's waists, twirling away.
Already heavy from the weight gain, my lunch threatened to come back up.
I shouted desperately.
"B-Baron! Wait a second!"
"What's wrong? Backing out now?"
"No, not that... Let me dance with Kara."
Kara, resting in a chair, widened her eyes at my words.
The Eisen Baron shook his head firmly.
"No. Miss Kara's rest comes first. Vigorous spins aren't good for the mother-to-be."
"I'll avoid vigorous dances too!"
I racked my brain.
I had to escape this crisis.
More than anything, I wanted to hold my nausea-stricken wife and comfort her.
"It's for parent-child bonding, giving the baby security... You know, what do you call it... Ah! Prenatal dance!"
"...Prenatal dance?"
The Baron's brow furrowed.
He looked like he'd never heard the combo before.
Honestly, I wasn't sure either.
Some vague memory from my past life, maybe? Or not.
But I wasn't in a position to be picky.
The image of Kara yesterday—vomiting everything up, limp and drained—burned in my mind.
Her nausea had subsided thanks to hometown food, but she still suffered at night. I wanted to do something, anything.
I'd heard skinship helps moms. Holding her under the guise of dancing might ease it.
'Screw it. Go big or go home.'
I put on my most serious face and spun a sales pitch like a peddler.
"Skinship where parents press close and share body heat. Add sweet, harmonious music, and it's great for the fetus's emotional development."
"And that has... basis?"
"Not the Empire's latest medical papers... but our tribe's elders said so. Babies learn to dance in the womb."
I brazenly mixed lies with folksy remedies that rang oddly true—hard to disprove on the spot.
"I'm serious, Baron. A happy mom means a happy baby."
My earnest gaze shook him.
"Prenatal" was like a magic spell to him.
He pondered, then went into workaholic verification mode.
"Hold on."
He dashed to his study and rifled through medical books.
"Hmm... Emotional stability and light exercise for the mother are beneficial, it says."
Not satisfied, he summoned the head maid with birthing experience.
"Of course! Couples who're intimate often have calmer babies. They grow up soaked in love."
Her ringing endorsement.
Finally, he dragged in Ronas, working in the office.
"Ronas, your thoughts?"
Ronas looked up at his father with hollow eyes.
A wad of receipts clutched in his hand.
"Dad... handle that stuff yourselves. I'm dancing with receipts right now. The numbers are waltzing. Twirling..."
He was beyond gone.
The Baron tsked, sent Ronas back, and gazed at a framed picture in the office corner.
A magic photo of his late wife Dalena, adult Ronas, and baby Alina.
The Baron's eyes grew distant.
'Dalena...'
When she was pregnant, he'd been work-obsessed, rarely by her side.
Through her nausea.
Alina's kicks...
Dancing together? Pressing an ear to her belly? He could count those moments on one hand.
It haunted him forever.
Barg's idea seemed absurd, but the love for wife and child rang true.
"...We should've done that when we had Alina."
He murmured to the photo.
Then turned, nodded to us.
"Very well. Permission granted."
"Yes!"
"One condition. Only very slow, gentle melodies. Stop if it burdens the mother."
"Got it!"
I whooped inwardly.
No waltz with the middle-aged guy.
Moments later.
The annex ballroom, lit by soft magic stones.
The Eisen Baron took up the violin himself.
Screee-.
He began.
A very slow waltz tempo.
I gently wrapped an arm around Kara's waist.
"Okay? Not dizzy?"
"Yeah. Feels good."
Kara smiled, hand on my shoulder.
We swayed slowly to the music.
Chests touching, warmth shared.
"Mmm... nice."
Kara leaned her face into me, eyes closing.
"Dancing close like this with you... Settles my stomach. No more queasiness."
"Glad. I'll hold you lots."
We danced the world's slowest dance.
Time seemed to stop, serene.
Norheim's snow winds hurried time, but mild Eisen Guard allowed this leisure.
But.
"......"
Kara's brow twitched.
"Barg... Isn't this too slow?"
"Huh? Baron said keep it slow."
"No, dragging like this might make me nauseous. Seasick."
To a born warrior like Kara, the sluggish beat was torture beyond boredom.
Thud!
She stamped her high-heeled shoe crisply.
Twisted to glare playfully at the absorbed Baron on violin.
'Faster!'
Eye signal.
Then whispered in my ear.
"Barg, hold tight. I'm gonna go for it."
"Huh?"
That instant.
Thud!
Kara's steps quickened.
The languid waltz exploded into lively quickstep.
Her moves were less dance, more swordplay application.
Like first snowflakes drifting delicately yet unpredictably on the wind, she led me.
"Wha? Whoa?"
The sudden speed threw my balance.
But as I teetered, she swapped feet, steadied my axis, spun me half-turn.
Perfect lead.
"Haha! That's more like it!"
Kara beamed, whirling.
Her skirt bloomed like petals.
The Baron faltered on violin.
'Wrong beat? Too fast?'
But entranced by Kara's freewheeling dance, he quickened his bow instinctively.
Screee- scree-!
Music sped up, our dance grew wilder.
Breathless.
But exhilarating.
My "sick" wife soared like the wind, hand in mine.
Ballroom corner.
Alina bounced on her butt watching, then grabbed Ronas's hand.
Looked like she'd dragged him from the office—where he'd been dying at his desk—for a break.
"Brother! Brother! Let's dance too! Spin like Kara-sis!"
"Alina... Brother really has to stamp those approvals..."
Ronas grimaced, thinking of his paperwork stack.
"Thank-you letters and settlements for the Grand Duke's house are mountains. Even if Young Lord Kairun covered costs, courtesy... Argh!"
Alina yanked him heedlessly.
"Don't care! I wanna dance! With Brother!"
Yeehaw!
Our lively footwork.
Screee- clang-!
The fired-up Baron's inspired violin.
Giggle!
Alina's laughter.
Ronas's mutters vaporized in the joyful din.
No one heard his work woes.
Couldn't.
Ronas stared blankly at the scene.
Beaming sister Alina.
Father sweating, lost in music.
Barbarian couple, gazing at each other, bliss incarnate.
'......'
When was the mansion last this lively?
Since Mom died, laughter echoing through the chilled halls felt new.
A faint smile tugged Ronas's lips.
"...Hah. Yeah, this is nice."
He flung the mental paperwork like petals.
Swept Alina up.
"Alright, let's dance! Today's the day Brother breaks his back!"
"Yay! Brother's the best!"
Ronas spun Alina in his arms.
Father on violin.
Dancing siblings.
Us, cherishing each other.
The Baron teared up mid-play.
Dalena's absence ached, yet the mansion's long-lost warmth swelled his heart.
'Dalena, if you're watching... are you smiling?'
I hugged Kara tight.
Through touching chests, her heartbeat—and the faint pulse of another life.
'Yeppi, hear that? That's happiness.'
We danced till deep night.
Thus, 1 a.m.
The happy dance party ended; mansion hushed in sleep.
But one room still lit.
"Gaaah! Not even halfway! Due by morning!"
Ronas's office.
A wretched scream pierced the walls.
Body wrecked from dancing.
Work piled as is.
Having mentally tossed it earlier, his planned order was now a jumbled mess.
"Save me... Someone save me..."
Ronas slammed his head on the desk, howling alone.