Whose Is It

"Snap!"

Upon hearing Count, the count was struck dumb as if by lightning, his mind blank, and he remained speechless for a long time.

His hand holding the pipe froze in mid-air, and even his breath seemed to stop.

He stared at his daughter in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape, as if he had just heard the most incredible and absurd words in the world.

The pipe slipped from his unconsciously loosened fingers, rolling halfway across the smooth table with a "click," scattering a few scarlet sparks and some ash. The sparks hit the back of the Count's hand, and a burning pain suddenly shot through him, bringing him back to his senses as if he had been scalded.

A deathly silence fell over the office; time seemed to stand still.

A good ten seconds passed before the Count suddenly took a deep breath, as if a drowning person were surfacing.

His expression shifted, the initial shock slowly fading, replaced by doubt, and even a hint of suppressed anger.

He stared intently at his daughter, as if trying to find any trace of a joke on her face, but all he saw was paleness and determination.

His voice trembled slightly from utter surprise. "You... what did you say? Pregnant... with whom?"

As soon as he uttered the words, seeing his daughter's complex and stubborn eyes, and noticing her instinctive gesture of protecting her lower abdomen with her hand, a name flashed through the Count's mind like lightning.

Charlotte didn't need to say anything more; the answer was already obvious.

At this point in time, the only person who could make his daughter, Charlotte, whom he cherishes dearly, willingly and even go so far as to conceal the truth until now, could be that young man who is currently surrounded and whose fate is uncertain!

The Count's voice lowered, carrying a mixture of understanding and indescribable complexity. He almost sighed as he uttered the name: "It is... Karl von Schmidt, isn't it?"

Charlotte's eyelashes trembled slightly, but she remained silent, which was the best confirmation of her feelings.

The Count leaned back in his chair, sighed heavily, rubbed his burned hand, and then wearily pinched the bridge of his nose.

He did not fly into a rage or reprimand Charlotte had expected.

Instead, a mix of understanding, helplessness, and heartache gradually replaced the initial shock.

He understands his daughter.

Charlotte was at an age where she admired heroes and longed for true love.

Karl von Schmidt, the brilliant young Lord who repeatedly created miracles in the desolate Northern Territory, undoubtedly perfectly embodied all the fantasies a young girl might have about a hero.

In such a dangerous and unique environment, it is not incomprehensible that feelings might develop secretly, or even become uncontrollable.

He simply never expected that his daughter would be so resolute, so brave, and even... one could say so "reckless" in expressing her love and commitment in this way.

When her beloved was surrounded and his life hung in the balance, she resolutely decided to leave behind his bloodline.

She initially went to Carnford under the guise of escorting Cannon, thinking it was just a simple escort mission. Little did I know she harbored such a plan.

"When did this happen?" The Count's voice was much calmer.

"It was...it was the last time I went to Carnford ..." Charlotte's voice was barely audible, a blush rising on her cheeks, but her eyes no longer darted away.

The Count nodded knowingly; that period was precisely when Carnford's reputation was rising, and everything made sense.

He sat up straight, his gaze becoming serious and calm. "Charlotte, I... I don't blame you. Sometimes, matters of the heart are beyond our control. But you must understand, the situation right now is very... very dangerous."

His gaze fell on his daughter's still-not-so-prominent belly. "Karl is still in Carnford, besieged by Sauron's army of 100,000, his life hanging by a thread, and you're here at this time... sigh..."

He paused, then his tone shifted to a concerned command, "From now on, try to stay home as much as possible and go out as little as possible. Fran City isn't safe right now; rumors can kill. Take good care of yourself, and... take good care of the baby in your belly. We'll talk about everything when Karl gets back."

But he also knew that he had to make his daughter face the harshest reality and not let her indulge in illusory hopes.

His voice lowered, carrying a necessary yet cruelly clear-headedness. "Of course, Charlotte, you also need to start preparing yourself mentally for the worst. War is cruel, swords are merciless, and no one, including myself, can guarantee that Karl will return safely. If... if he really doesn't come back..."

The Count saw his daughter's face turn deathly pale the moment he uttered the words "she won't come back," and her body swayed almost imperceptibly. But he had to harden his heart and continue; this was the weight she had to bear for choosing this path.

"Since you've chosen this path to express your love and commitment in this way, then, my daughter, you must have the courage to bear all the consequences that come with it, whether good or bad."

"If Karl ultimately fails to return, this child... will be his only remaining bloodline in this world, the heir to the Lord Carnford, and... the only testament to the love between you and him."

His tone became exceptionally solemn, even carrying a sense of entrustment. "Therefore, you must be strong, for yourself and for this child, protect him, ensure his safe birth, and help him grow up healthy."

"This isn't just a personal matter for you; it's also a responsibility and a moral obligation that the Rochfort family must shoulder, and more importantly... it's a promise you must uphold to Karl, whether in life or death. Do you understand what I mean, Charlotte?"

Charlotte's eyes were already brimming with tears, but she bravely held back her sobs. She simply nodded heavily, her voice choked with emotion, yet carrying a firmness that moved even the Count: "I understand, Father... I understand... Thank you..."

Watching his daughter leave the office with tears in her eyes but trying her best to straighten her back, Earl Rochefort sat in his chair for a long time, his heart filled with mixed feelings.

Angry? Not really.

More than anything, it was heartache for her daughter, worry about the situation, and a... very strange, indescribable feeling.

I'm... going to be a grandfather?

This sudden news was like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, stirring up huge ripples in his heart, which was previously filled only with the war, power struggles, and responsibilities.

A brand new life, connected to him by blood, is being conceived, while the father of this life is currently fighting a bloody battle in the north for the sake of the kingdom, his life hanging by a thread.

An unprecedented sense of responsibility and urgency surged within him.

He could no longer simply wait passively here, watching helplessly as Carnford was slowly crushed by the millstone-like enemy forces.

He had to do something! For his daughter's future, for his unborn child, and for that young man he genuinely admired who shouldn't have fallen into oblivion.

"Karl von Schmidt ..." the Count murmured to himself, a sharp glint returning to his eyes. "You must hold on! We can't let the child be born without a father, can we?"