"From today on, your name is Yavi!"
Those were the first words Yavi heard after coming into this world. His consciousness was still hazy, and that gentle yet slightly weary voice echoed in his ears. He opened his eyes a little, his vision blurred, and could only faintly make out a pale face-golden hair spilled down like sunlight, and azure eyes gazed at him like deep lakes. That gaze was full of love, yet it also held a trace of sorrow he could not understand.
But Amanda, the midwife standing nearby, had her brows tightly furrowed. She was an experienced woman who had witnessed countless births, but this was the first time she had seen a baby as quiet as Yavi. The baby's breathing was steady, his heartbeat strong, and everything was normal, yet he simply would not cry.
"My lady, the child needs to cry," the midwife said softly, a hint of anxiety in her voice. She stepped forward and gently patted Yavi's back, trying to stimulate his respiratory system and make him cry.
Everything had happened so suddenly that Yavi had yet to make sense of his situation. He could hear the sounds around him and feel things touching him, but everything seemed veiled in a thin mist, blurred and unreal.
Amanda's palm kept patting Yavi's back. The blows were not hard, but they made him instinctively want to open his mouth and make a sound. Yet just as he tried to cry, he suddenly felt as though something was blocking his mouth, preventing him from making a sound properly.
Yavi furrowed his brow, feeling a little irritated. He opened his tiny mouth and tried to push the foreign object out with his tongue. It was hard and cold, lodged near his throat, and made him uncomfortable. Amanda did not notice anything unusual about Yavi and remained focused on patting his back, hoping to make him cry.
"Try a little harder, child. Cry..." Amanda urged softly, a hint of anxiety in her voice.
Yavi's little face flushed bright red with the effort. He pushed hard against the object with his tongue, trying to spit it out. At last, between Amanda's patting and his own efforts, his throat cleared, and the thing in his mouth suddenly slid out.
"Pfft-"
With a soft sound, a hexagonal black stone fell from Yavi's mouth and landed heavily on the floor with a dull thud. Its surface was smooth, its edges sharp, and it gave off an eerie sheen, as though it contained some mysterious power.
The room instantly fell deathly silent.
The blonde mother and Amanda froze at the same time, their eyes fixed on the black stone on the floor, their faces filled with shock and disbelief. The mother took Yavi into her arms, which trembled slightly. Yavi, held against her, seemed to sense the strange atmosphere as well. He quietly opened his eyes wide and looked curiously at the stone on the floor.
"What... what is this?" Amanda's voice trembled a little. She bent down and carefully touched the stone with a finger. It was icy to the touch, without a trace of warmth. She tried to pick it up, only to find it somewhat heavy, like a small piece of metal.
Just then, Yavi's crying drew both women's attention back.
"Waa, waa, waa-"
Only upon hearing the infant's cries did the mother remember to nurse him.
Yavi merely found it rather novel. He closed his eyes and opened them again, and-well, it was time for milk...
Night fell quietly, and two men entered the baby's room.
"Is this my Child of Surprise?"
"Is there... really no room for discussion, Kharkov?"
"Herbert, even if you are this child's father, you cannot defy fate."
Yavi was sound asleep at the time, unaware that the conversation taking place was deciding his future fate.
With reluctance and bitterness on his face, Herbert looked at Yavi in his swaddling clothes. His voice was hoarse, with a hint of pleading. "But... he's still so young. He hasn't even had a chance to experience his own life. Can't we give him some time? Even just a few years?"
Kharkov fell silent for a moment, shifting his gaze from Herbert's face to the pitch-black night sky outside the window. There were no stars, only thick clouds that blotted out every bit of light. His gaze remained cold, but there was a barely perceptible flicker in it. "Herbert, six years... six years is the longest I can give you. I'll come back for you then. If you truly still remember that I saved your life, don't try any tricks with me. Otherwise, the consequences will be more than you can bear."
With that, Kharkov, clad in a black cloak, turned and left the room. Herbert watched his retreating figure, his expression shifting uncertainly, before letting out a heavy sigh...
Yavi was born in Saint Thomas City in Kovir. His father, Herbert, was a minor local noble who governed a small town called Fislo near Saint Thomas City. Though called a town, it was really no more than a slightly larger village. Years ago, his ancestor, Arthur Morgan, had earned merit on the battlefield and was awarded the lowest noble rank, baron, before being sent off to Fislo, then an impoverished village. Through his many years of management and hard work, however, Fislo gradually developed from a barren village into a relatively prosperous small town. Though it still could not compare with the splendor of Saint Thomas City, at least its residents no longer had to worry about food and clothing, and their lives gradually improved.
Herbert inherited his ancestor's title and became the lord of Fislo. Unlike other nobles, he was not keen on power and wealth, caring more about the livelihoods of the townspeople instead. He often visited farming households in person to learn about their difficulties and did his best to help resolve them. The residents of Fislo were full of respect and gratitude toward Herbert, calling him "the benevolent lord."
Although Herbert enjoyed a very good reputation in Fislo, there was still a knot in his heart that he could never untangle: his son, Yavi. In earlier years, Fislo's remote location had left the village frequently subject to attacks by bandits and monsters, which meant Herbert often had to lead the militia in resisting outside enemies and defending their home. During one patrol, Herbert's group was attacked by a ferocious monster. Herbert led the militia in a fierce battle against it, but ordinary people's strength was limited, and they suffered heavy casualties. Just as Herbert was about to die in the monster's jaws, a mysterious man carrying two swords on his back appeared. That man was Kharkov. Kharkov successfully rescued Herbert from the monster, and Herbert offered to thank him. Kharkov, however, said there was no need for thanks. If Herbert insisted on thanking him, then they could follow the Law of Surprise. Herbert readily agreed, never imagining that this act would indirectly change Yavi's fate.