"...I'm bored."
A hollow voice echoed through the living room.
Hearing it, Laira, who had been watching TV, casually replied without looking away from the screen.
"Why don’t you go online or something?"
"That’s boring too."
"...Hmm."
Laira fell into deep thought.
She was probably trying to think of something I might enjoy.
Lately, I hadn’t been going out much because of my pregnancy.
Before coming to this world, I hadn’t been particularly fond of going out either... but people change.
Maybe it was because, over the past year or so, the time I’d spent at home had been so scarce.
Now that I was stuck inside, I was just... too bored.
"...What about that book I gave you?"
"Finished it ages ago."
"And that game you bought a few days ago... I don’t even need to ask."
I nodded slightly.
At first, I’d thought it was perfect.
New stories, new series—dozens of AAA games I’d never even heard of had suddenly appeared, right?
Of course, I’d bought a few and played them. I had nothing else to do while waiting for Siwoo.
...Well, the fact that I was now whining about being bored probably said enough about how that turned out.
They’d all ended up as useless piles of scrap.
"I *told* you they’d be useless."
"I didn’t think they’d be *that* easy..."
"Games aren’t made for people like us."
Right.
That was when I realized just how boring games were for superhumans.
No matter how powerful or influential our abilities were, they were still just games.
Since you only bought them once, the main consumer base was obviously normal people... and because of that, they were painfully dull for superhumans.
No matter how much you cranked up the difficulty, it didn’t matter.
It just felt like playing a game designed for children.
The only ones we could enjoy were simple puzzle games.
The moment anything even slightly physical got involved, the game instantly became unbearable.
"If you’re *that* bored, why not go out for a short walk?"
"No, I can’t."
"...You’re so overprotective."
The doctor had said it was fine to live normally for now.
But even as I complained about being bored, I still chose to stay inside as much as possible.
If something happened and the baby was in danger, that would be a disaster.
Unless it was absolutely necessary, I wanted to stay home.
Laira sighed softly, then gently rubbed her belly, which had swollen enough that anyone could tell she was pregnant.
"Your mom’s bored, Irene."
"What are you doing?"
"I’m talking to your daughter."
"..."
That wasn’t what I was asking.
Ignoring my exasperated stare, Laira kept fiddling with my stomach.
"If our niece is born, then Mom won’t be bored anymore, right?"
"...Who said she’s your niece?"
"Well, she’s your daughter, so what else would she be? Am I not old enough to be her aunt?"
Unbelievable.
I had a million things I wanted to say in response, but I kept my mouth shut.
Where had the girl who used to be terrified of me gone?
It was a good direction, but…
Since I still remembered her old self so clearly, I couldn’t shake off the awkwardness.
Whether she noticed my feelings or not,
Laira, who had been pressing her ear to my stomach and rubbing it, suddenly started making a fuss.
"Hey, hey…! The baby, the baby kicked! It kicked!"
"Huh? What are you—"
"Irene kicked! Didn’t you feel it?!"
…The baby kicked?
I didn’t feel anything.
Laira’s serious expression as she stared at my swollen belly was almost comical, but I didn’t say anything.
I was too busy focusing all my attention on my stomach.
But no matter how long I waited, I couldn’t feel the kicking sensation she mentioned.
"You know, Laira, maybe it was just—"
"Just wait a little longer. It’s probably staying still because it doesn’t want to hurt its mommy."
"No, a baby that hasn’t even been born yet wouldn’t—"
Thump.
A tiny vibration echoed from deep inside my stomach.
"D-Did you hear it?! You heard it this time, right?!"
"…Unbelievable."
"It’s so amazing. Does it know we’re talking about it?"
We both knew that was impossible.
But we ignored such trivial details and happily chattered away about the baby in my belly,
completely forgetting the boredom that had been gnawing at us just moments ago.
After talking for a while,
Laira suddenly asked me a question, as if it had just occurred to her.
"Hey, boss."
"Hm?"
"Your daughter—how do you want her to grow up?"
"…Suddenly?"
"No, just… I got curious."
How did I want her to grow up?
I’d never given it a single thought.
All I’d been thinking about was that there was a fruit of love between Siwoo and me inside my belly.
"How do I want her to grow up…"
"Well, you can just say it lightly. Kids don’t grow up the way you want them to, anyway."
If anyone knew that, it was me.
How many people had seen Amelia and her father’s relationship and not thought the same?
Mr. Lionel probably hadn’t wanted Amelia to grow up into the kind of girl who’d swindle him…
Maybe it was because of our connection from the frontline incident, or because she was one of the few close friends my daughter had,
but he always contacted me right around the time I was starting to forget about him.
…Mostly just to vent, though.
Amelia really should show her parents a little more respect.
Her casual attitude around them was… a bit much.
Even so, her dad’s light novel reading sessions were a little—
"…Arte?"
"Ah, sorry."
What were we talking about again?
Oh right, how I wanted my child to grow up.
"A free child."
"…Free?"
"Yeah. A child who isn’t bound by anyone, completely free."
Sometimes I think about it.
If I hadn’t had Siwoo… would I have spent my whole life as the author’s puppet?
Every time I have that thought, I hope my child with Siwoo never ends up the same.
"I want her to be a child who can think and act for herself, not someone else’s puppet."
"…It sounds easy, but it’s actually a hard thing to wish for, boss."
"Is it?"
At Laila’s words, I gave an awkward laugh and rubbed my stomach.
…It might be a little difficult, but I’d like her to grow up into that kind of child.
Siwoo and I continued chatting until he returned from the Academy.
"Daughter, when are you going to give me a grandchild?"
"…Ah, please. Dad, I’m still an Academy student."
"Being an Academy student doesn’t mean you can’t get married. You’re an adult, so dating and marriage should be fine."
I wanted to punch that smirking face of his, but I held back.
Not like I could even land a hit with my current skills anyway.
He’d just dodge it effortlessly and tease me again, asking if that was supposed to be an attack.
"Why, even your friend already caused a scandal. You should start dating soon too…"
"Ugghhhhhh—!"
"Pffft."
I tried my best to ignore him, but I couldn’t.
This was psychological warfare.
"That’s because *they’re* the weird ones! Who even gets pregnant at that age without using protection?!"
"Daughter, I’m heartbroken. I might close my eyes without ever seeing my grandchild… The tears are blurring my vision…"
"Aaaaaah! Why are you doing this to me?!"
"…Why am I doing this?"
The playful grin vanished from Dad’s face, hardening into a stern expression.
As if to say, *Now we’re talking.*
"I haven’t forgotten the shameful photo you secretly posted on my SNS a few days ago, daughter…"
"C-Come on, that was just one little thing—!"
"Just one? JUUUUUST OOOOONE?!"
"…"
"And you know full well it wasn’t just that."
"Uh… um…"
I had no comeback.
Okay, fine. I *had* been attacking Dad a little too much lately.
But as the eldest daughter of the Lindberg family, I decided to be shameless.
"That was because *you* filled my room with weird traps last time!"
"That was because *you* read my book aloud right in front of me."
"That was because *you* sprayed water on my bed while I was asleep and then made fun of me for being rude at my age!"
"Remember, daughter, that *your* actions were the cause of *my* actions."
Dad and I both realized that if we kept arguing over who started it, we’d never reach the end.
We’d been like this since I was little.
Neither of us even remembered who had started it first.
You hit me, I hit you back.
That was the only thought driving us, the reason we kept this up.
And now, neither of us had any intention of stopping.
After all, the one who stopped first would lose.
No one had ever said it out loud, but that had been our unspoken rule all along.
"So that’s how you’re playing… Fine. Just wait. Next time, I’ll make you cry like the old man you are!"
"Hah, my dear daughter. I might pee myself from fear…"
He wiped away a fake tear, looking completely unfazed.
Damn it. He was mocking me again.
"Just wait…! I swear on Grandpa’s name, I *will* make you cry!"
"Then I’ll swear on *my* name that I won’t. Does that work?"
"Ugghhhhhh—!"
Unforgivable.
I started racking my brain for ways to torment Dad in return.