DING!

Like usual, it sounded like a temple bell dropped directly onto her frontal lobe.

"Ah! Finally!!!" Cecilia roared.

The maintenance period was over, the twenty-four hours of silence in her own head, broken only by the telepathic bickering of her husbands, had felt like an eternity.

[We are back, Cecilia!]

The System’s voice was bright as usual. Like a friend returning from a long journey. Or... a parasite returning to its host. Depending on one’s perspective.

"Welcome baaaaaaaack!" Cecilia sighed. "I missed you, System. It felt like it had been a loooooong time..."

[Aww, Cecilia. We are very moved.]

Well, yes, it was only twenty-four hours, but it had been a while since she had to suffer through the gacha.

[Now, are you ready for the next Romance Trope Exclusive Banner?]

Cecilia sat up straight, her eyes sharpening, her mind already shifting back into tactical mode.

Alright. She had learned that the Romance Trope Scenarios were the gods’ way of ’training’ her. The Athenaeum, the magic academy scenario was all preparation. All practice.

Both she and her husbands had agreed that entering that alternate universe had given them a better understanding of their powers, their bonds, their ability to work together under strange and unfamiliar constraints.

But to prepare them for what?

Cecilia had speculated that it was whatever they needed to do to save the world without killing Oathran.

Or—

To kill Oathran without losing him.

Because what if he truly needed to be killed? What if the divine Dragon Lord truly had to die for the world to survive? What if the gods were training her, preparing her, shaping her into someone strong enough to do what needed to be done, and then bring him back?

What if—

DI-DI-DING!

The cheerful chime shattered her spiraling thoughts.

[Regret! Escape the CEO as the Missing Pregnant Wife!]

Cecilia stared at the notification.

And stared.

And stared.

...

...

...

What?

The words floated in her mental vision, bright and bouncy, totally incomprehensible. They were arranged in an order that suggested they formed a coherent sentence, but Cecilia’s brain, which had learned multiple languages refused to process them.

Regret.

Escape.

CEO.

Missing.

Pregnant.

Wife.

C... C-what?

"More than a trope, this is a whole novel title." She said incredulously. "But what is a... CEO?"

The System chimed in immediately.

[A CEO (Chief Executive Officer) is the highest-ranking executive in a company, responsible for making major corporate decisions, managing operations, setting strategic direction, and acting as the main link between the board of directors and employees. They are the ’face’ of the company and bear primary responsibility for its success or failure!]

Cecilia blinked.

"Huh."

She turned the concept over in her mind, comparing it to the familiar structures of her own world. A leader. A decision-maker. Someone who bore ultimate responsibility for an organization’s success or failure. Someone who was, apparently, the "face" of a "company"—whatever that was.

"So... like the lord of a merchant family...?"

[Yes!]

Cecilia nodded slowly after successfully translating alien terminology into something she could work with. Interesting. A merchant lord. A trade patriarch. The head of a powerful commercial enterprise?

So why had the System not simply called it that?

[Would you like to roll?]

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait—"

Cecilia’s hand flew up, palm outward. Her eyes now sharpened to dangerous points.

"There is a second part of this trope. ’Escape’ the CEO..." She paused. "...as the Missing Pregnant Wife."

She glared at the empty air, or more accurately, at the System’s invisible presence, which was currently hovering somewhere in the space behind her eyes. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

"Am I this ’Missing Pregnant Wife’?"

[...]

Ah. This told Cecilia everything she needed to know before the System even finished generating its response.

[...Yes! You are this ’Missing Pregnant Wife’, Cecilia!]

Motherfucker.

When the cheerfulness was back, mind you, suspiciously and aggressively cheerful, Cecilia knew she had just been told she was about to be yeeted into an alternate universe as a pregnant runaway wife escaping a merchant lord.

"System." She said, holding onto her sanity with both hands. "I am not pregnant."

[...in the scenario, you will be!]

"System."

[It is very romantic! There is angst! There is pining! There is the dramatic revelation of a secret child! There is—]

"System!"

The System fell silent. For a moment.

Pregnant. This... this was a very dangerous foreshadowing.

[The rewards are very good,] the System added, its voice small but hopeful. [There are... baby items. In the shop. For the future. When you... you know. Eventually.]

"...Baby items?"

[Yes! Very cute baby items! With stat bonuses!]

Motherfucker.

There were reasons why Cecilia mentally blocked herself from thinking about babies.

She was, by nature, a planner. She already got used to looking at the sprawling chaos of the world and immediately began sorting it into categories, timelines and actionable items. Babies, for all their theoretical appeal, did not fit neatly into any of her current spreadsheets.

First, she was not in the right place to be a mother yet.

She knew she wanted to be one. Someday. The imagination surfaced occasionally of a small, black-haired child with Arkai’s serious eyes, or a golden-maned toddler with Eastiel’s infectious laugh, or a pale-haired infant with Oathran’s serene gaze.

She would love that child. She would burn the world down for that child. She would be... decent at it, she thought. Motherhood, the nurturing, the protecting, the shaping of a small soul into something brave and kind and unstoppable.

But she was not ready.

Not now. There was still so much to do.

Her revenge, for one thing. The slow, meticulous destruction of Ruby Vaiva’s reputation and power and sanity. It was nowhere near completing.

The uncertain future, for another, the gods’ plans, the mysterious preparation the Romance Trope Scenarios were designed to provide, the looming specter of whatever catastrophe required her to be trained like a weapon being sharpened.

Ruby’s future. Ruby’s prophecies. Ruby’s stupidity. Also, the people around Ruby’s weaponized stupidity.

The fact that she was currently balancing three husbands and a System that had just suggested she roleplay as a pregnant runaway wife.

If she got pregnant she would want to focus on that child completely. She would want to step back from the chaos, to create a space of peace and safety, to pour every ounce of her considerable energy into motherhood rather than revenge.

She would not be able to do both. She refused to be the kind of mother who did both.

Pregnancy, to be completely, brutally honest, was the last thing on her mind right now.

Second—

Well.

It was Oathran.

Arkai had told her he wanted Oathran to have her baby first. It was only right, Arkai had said, that Oathran’s child be the first.

And Eastiel was excited about any notion of baby-making, regardless of whose seed took root.

The problem was Oathran himself.

He never said it outright, but Cecilia knew he would refuse to have any children at all. Not because he did not want them or because he did not love her enough to imagine a family with her...

But because the key was attached to his bloodline.

His children would inherit it, and he could not bear the thought.

He could not stomach the idea of passing that burden to an innocent child. To his innocent child.

And if, despite all precautions, despite the contraceptive spell, she did get pregnant from him... he might want to die sooner.

He might see it as an opportunity. A deadline. A reason to accelerate his sacrifice.

If he died before the child was born, the key might not latch onto the baby’s soul. The child would be free. And Oathran would consider that a fair trade.

So no. No babies. Not yet. Not until she figured out how to save him. Not until she understood what the gods were preparing her for and whether it required her to lose him or keep him or something in between.

Come to think of it, she would get her period soon. In two or three days, if her calculations were correct. Oathran had checked her contraceptive spell just yesterday and it was intact.

There was no way she would get pregnant.

No way.

So. Alright. She needed to stay calm. Stay fucking calm. The System was not suggesting she actually get pregnant. It was a scenario. A roleplay. An alternate universe where she would pretend to be something she was not, for the sake of training and rewards and whatever cosmic purpose the gods had in mind.

It was not real. The baby items in the gacha were for the future. The hypothetical, distant, very much not now future.

She took a deep breath.

"Alright." She said steadily. "Let us... huu..."

She released the breath. Took another.

"Let us roll."