After calming down a little and processing everything she had said, Ray finally spoke again.
Sitting on the sofa, his fingers intertwined, his posture still tense, he looked at her with weary eyes. His voice, though calr, still carried the weight of years of grief and anger.
"Why are you here, Es?"
The question lingered in the air, heavier than the silence that followed.
Es t his gaze, her expression unreadable at first. Then, a faint smile tugged at her lips—not one of joy, but of quiet longing, of sothing bittersweet.
"Nothing much," she said softly. "I just heard that I’ve beco a mother... and I wanted to see my children."
Her words landed like a blow.
The room, already heavy with tension, beca even stiller. The air felt thick, charged with emotions no one knew how to put into words.
Ray took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to steady himself. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, nails digging into his palms. There were so many questions, so many emotions storming inside him.
But Es had been awake for two days and hadn’t tried to reach them.
That alone told him—this was not the ti to be sentintal.
He parted his lips, his voice low yet firm.
"I gave birth to two children."
A flicker of emotion crossed Es’s face—a smile, yet one that looked painfully close to tears. Her head dipped, her arms wrapping around herself as if shielding sothing fragile inside.
"...."
Ray’s throat tightened. His next words ca heavier, slower, as if anchoring himself in reality.
"A son and a daughter."
Es had known. Even after waking up, she had heard whispers of it—fragnts of conversations, passing remarks that hinted at the truth. But hearing it now, from Ray’s mouth, made it real.
It felt like a shard of glass had been driven into her chest and twisted, over and over again.
She had never been the kind of woman who dread of motherhood. She wasn’t the dutiful, loving mother who eagerly anticipated her children’s birth, counting down the days with warmth and excitent. That just wasn’t her.
But the mont she first felt them move inside Ray’s womb... sothing had changed. A warmth blood in her chest—subtle, foreign, but undeniable. It wasn’t overwhelming, nor did it suddenly turn her into the ideal mother, but it stirred sothing in her. Curiosity. Longing.
She had wanted to see them.
She had seen newborns before and, if she were honest, she never found them particularly beautiful—soft, wrinkled, and loud. Toddlers, children—she never felt drawn to them the way others did.
Yet Helga had once told her, and so had many other parents, "No matter what, your own child will always be the most beautiful in your eyes."
Es had wondered if she would feel the sa.
Would she look at her children and think they were the most precious, most perfect beings in the world? Would she finally understand what others felt?
But she missed it.
She missed their first cries, the first ti they opened their eyes, their tiny fingers curling around a hand for the first ti.
She missed everything.
Ray took a deep breath, steadying himself. There were so many things he wanted to ask, so much he wanted to say, but the fact that .
Now , he had to focused on what mattered most. His voice was calm, but firm. "How did you transfer BEOM to my daughter?"
Es lifted her gaze at his words, her expression unreadable. Then, with a soft smile, she corrected him, "Your daughter? Or ours?"
Ray paused.
It had been three years. Three years of raising them alone, of calling them his children. The habit had settled in so deeply that he hadn’t even realized it.
A flicker of sothing passed through his eyes, but he pushed it aside. With a small sigh, he admitted, "Well... they don’t know you. So just tell the truth. How did you transfer BEOM to my—" he hesitated for a mont before finishing, "our daughter?"
Es’s smile didn’t fade. "They’ll know soon enough," she said softly. Then, after a brief pause, "And about BEOM... I didn’t transfer it to her."
Ray’s brows furrowed slightly.
"Wait... what do you an?" He looked at her carefully. "She has BEOM."
Es simply lifted her hand, revealing the ring on her finger.
It shimred under the light.
Gold.
Kai, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. "Wait a minute... wasn’t that ring silver?"
Es turned her head slightly, eting Kai’s gaze, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "It was silver," she agreed, twisting the ring slowly between her fingers. "But now, it’s gold."
A quiet hush settled over the room as they took in her words.
Ray’s expression grew thoughtful as he leaned forward slightly. "Then... does that an BEOM wasn’t transferred?"
Es gave a slow nod. "That’s right."
Ray exchanged a glance with Kai, trying to piece things together. "But then how...? If you’re alive, then how is it possible that they have BEOM?"
Es let out a soft chuckle. There was no amusent in it, just quiet understanding. Then, she spoke with a calm certainty that sent a shiver through the room.
"Because it’s not impossible to inherit BEOM." She exhaled slowly before adding, "After all... my parents are still alive."
The room stilled.
The air shifted.
The weight of her words sank in, leaving them frozen in place.
"Wait a minute... what?"
Kai suddenly stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. His expression was sharp, calculating. He had read Es’s reports, analyzed every possibility, but he had never believed it—that a Beast could be inherited while its original owner was still alive.
It wasn’t supposed to be possible.
And yet, here Es was, standing before them, her ring—BEOM—still on her finger.
So how?
If Es still possessed BEOM, then how did their daughter have the sa ring? The sa power?
A heavy silence settled over the room, thick with unspoken questions.
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