As the first cry subsided, the old midwife gently lifted the newborn, still slick with blood and amniotic fluid. The room fell into a heavy silence, each person holding their breath.

After a heartbeat of silence, the baby let out a lusty wail. The tension broke, and everyone exhaled in unison, their faces blossoming into smiles of pure relief.

The young midwife, her energy spent, collapsed into a nearby chair, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

The mother, despite her exhaustion, had a sparkle in her eyes, akin to a child anticipating the wonder of a birthday gift. Her face, flushed and damp with sweat, radiated a profound joy.

Jack, standing at the bedside, couldn't suppress his elation. His grin stretched from ear to ear, mirroring the playful glee of a mischievous monkey.

The midwife began examining the baby, her experienced hands moving with practiced ease. When she noticed the stick-shaped organ at the baby's pelvis, joy flashed across her face for the first time since the treatment began.

"It's a boy," she announced, though there was an almost imperceptible sadness in her voice. She gently cleaned the baby with a warm, wet cloth, revealing a tiny, white-skinned baby with a hint of brownness.

Her skilled hands moved quickly to tie a piece of twine around the umbilical cord, then with a small, sharp knife, she severed it with a decisive cut. She inspected the cut end to ensure it was properly tied and clean, then applied a mixture of herbs and salve to prevent infection.

The baby's eyes, pools of light golden color that sometimes-appeared light brown, blinked open, and his thin black hair barely covered his small head. The resemblance to his mother was striking, though his baby fat and deep golden eyes marked him as unique.

The excited crowd eagerly waited to hold the baby as the midwife wrapped him in a clean grey cloth.

Jack, with his broad smile, stepped forward, eyes alight with enthusiasm.

"Mot..." The word caught in Jack's throat as his eyes met the midwife's. His usual smile became stiff, the joy dimming slightly in his eyes. The old midwife's gaze locked onto his, carrying an unreadable emotion.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The tension making Jack swallow hard.

Finally, with a hint of reluctance, she passed the baby to him, her hands lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

As the baby lay in his arms, Jack stood there awkwardly, still dazed. The baby's wails pierced through his fog of thoughts, snapping him back to the present.

"Hey there, little one," Jack murmured, trying to keep his voice gentle despite his growing nervousness. "It's okay, don’t cry. I’ve got you." His attempts to soothe the baby by gently bouncing and rocking felt clumsy, clearly showing his inexperience. The young midwife joined in, trying to calm the child, but the baby's cries only grew louder, echoing through the small room. Jack’s face flushed with a mix of frustration and helplessness as his best efforts failed to quiet the baby's wails.

"Jack..." The mother, weakly attempting to sit up, called out. The young midwife quickly intervened. "Mistress, you are still weak. You should rest."

But the mother was insistent, her words fragmented as if speaking took all her strength. "I want... to see the baby."

Jack quickly brought the baby to her, gently placing him in her lap. As the baby’s eyes met his mother’s, he stopped crying, recognizing her familiar warmth. The mother, gazing at her baby who mirrored her features, gently caressed his head and back. She adjusted her nightgown and brought the baby close. He instinctively started nursing, his tiny hands gripping her. The baby calmed down completely, creating a scene that left everyone in the room awestruck.

Embarrassed by the attention, the mother softly muttered, “What?”

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Jack, in a tone laced with sarcasm, replied, “I never thought you, of all people, would be able to calm him down.”

“Dammit, what do you mean by ‘you of all people’? Sure, I can be clumsy and irresponsible, but I have my talents. I’m not dumb, you know,” she retorted, her irritation starkly contrasting her earlier weakness.

It was Jack’s first time seeing Marie accomplish something so perfectly, especially when no one else could. He could hardly believe his eyes. ‘I guess this is what being a mother means,’ he thought, having never known his own mother.

He was about to tease Marie further when the old midwife intervened. “Enough, both of you. This is not the time for playing around. Have you decided on a name for this child?” she asked.

In this region, it was customary to follow the midwife’s beliefs regarding naming. According to the beliefs of the God of Order, the father had three days to choose a name, and if he was unavailable, the local priest would name the child within seven days. However, the midwife adhered to the Goddess of Purity’s belief, which required that the mother, father, or guardian name the child by sunrise the following day. With night already upon them and only a few hours until dawn, the midwife was in a hurry.

From the bed, Marie’s eyes sparkled with excitement despite her fatigue. “Yes, Jack and I spent the last seven days considering names, both for a boy and a girl,” she said, her voice tinged with anticipation. “We narrowed it down to twenty but couldn’t decide on the final one, so we wrote them all down. Jack, could you get the list?”

jack’s broad smile faltered, and he laughed nervously, sweat forming on his forehead. “I… I lost it.”

“You… you lost it? How could you lose it, you idiot!” Marie’s eyes widened in fury, her instinct to say “Let me see” momentarily paused as she processed Jack’s words.

“I… I don’t know. I had to step out for a bit, and when I came back, the list was gone,” Jack stammered, gulping nervously.

Marie’s frustration mounted. “Step out? For what? And what does that have to do with losing the paper?”

Jack hesitated, his face flushed. “I really needed to go, and I left the list on the table. When I returned…” He glanced at the table with a mix of regret and anger. “The paper was gone. I would have searched for it, but you started feeling pain, and Miss Taira said the delivery couldn’t wait. So, I had to let it go.”

Marie glared at him, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, so the paper just vanished into thin air? It must have grown wings and flown away, right, Jack?”

Jack sat in silence, his gaze fixed on his sweat-covered hands as he fidgeted with his fingers, unable to meet her eyes.

“You idiot! You must have left the door open when you went out. It’s probably soaked by the rain now. What am I supposed to do? It took so much effort to shortlist the best names for my child,” she said, her voice breaking as she fought back tears.

“Why don’t you just give him a random name? How hard could it be?” the old midwife, Miss Taira, suggested irritably.

“No! How could I give my baby some random name? Only the best is deserving of him,” Marie retorted, chewing her nails and scratching her head in thought. Suddenly, the baby’s wails pierced the air again, startling her. Suddenly, the baby started crying again, startling her. She quickly tried to calm him down while the onlookers gave her strange looks.

“You... don’t you dare call me clumsy when you’re the one who lost the list,” she hissed at Jack, her eyes blazing with anger.

“Alright, enough, you two. Time is running out. Think of a name quickly, or I’ll name him Cabbage,” the midwife threatened, effectively silencing them both.

Jack, after a brief search, found the now-soaked paper lying outside the cottage, where it had been blown by the wind and drenched by the rain. With a frustrated expression, he returned inside, sank into a chair, and began deciphering the smeared names on the soaked paper. The young midwife also joined in to help, squinting at the blurred ink.

Meanwhile, Marie continued to scratch her head in frustration, trying to recall a suitable name. She murmured to herself intermittently, dismissing each name with comments like, “Too lame,” “Too childish,” “Not cute enough,” “Too girly,” “Too common,” “Too flamboyant,” “Too old-fashioned,” or “Too trendy.”

Jack glanced up from the soggy paper, a hint of amusement breaking through his frustration. “How about we name him something simple, like ‘Bob’?”

Marie turned to him with a smile playing on her face, but her eyes betrayed the emotion behind it. “Oh sure, let’s go with ‘Bob’ and make him sound like a middle-aged man from birth.”

The young midwife chuckled, trying to help. “What about ‘Leo’? It’s strong and simple.”

Marie shook her head. “No, that’s too common. I want something unique, something that suits him perfectly.”

Jack sighed, his fingers still smudging the wet ink. “Well, we had some good ones on this list before it turned into a soggy mess.”

Marie shot him a piercing glare, her eyes narrowing into a scowl that clearly said, ‘You don’t talk now, it was all your fault.’

Suddenly, a thunderstorm struck, illuminating the outside with flashes of light that filtered into the room. Marie instinctively turned to the dreamy, rain-soaked landscape beyond the window. The lightning danced across the scene, casting an ethereal glow over the soft white blanket of mist that shrouded everything in its embrace.

Gazing down at her baby, whose light golden eyes mirrored the mystical beauty of the scene outside, Marie felt a serene smile spread across her face. With a soft, decisive tone, she declared, “Haze.”