CHAPTER 30: THE THIRD DREAM?

[Lucien in his DreamLand]

Darkness.

Thick and still, like someone forgot to turn on the cosmic light switch.

Lucien blinked into the void, squinting as if trying to adjust the brightness setting on reality itself. Only faint light circled him—spotlight-style—like he was the lead actor in a dramatic one-man theater production titled "Lost and Pregnant: The Musical."

"...Okay, not creepy at all," he muttered, shifting awkwardly. "Where am I? I should be at Rynthall Estate. Am I dreaming again?"

He spun in place. Nothing. Just moody darkness and existential lighting.

And then—

SPLAAAAAASH!!

The world yeeted him straight into a face-first dive onto damp, golden sand with all the grace of a stunned seal in sparkly boots.

Lucien groaned, flailing in the grainy mess. "Mmphff—AHH—fuck! The dream handlers are RUDE! No respect. NONE. Zero dignity left for a poor, glowing, pregnant baron!"

He spat out what tasted like glitter-infused oceanwater and sat up, sand clinging to his face like judgment.

Around him stretched an endless, shimmering beach—too pretty, too peaceful. The sky above was a swirling canvas of pink and gold, like someone dipped a sunset in cotton candy and drama. The waves? They flirted with the shore like it was a K-drama love interest. The air smelled like warm sugar and destiny.

It was beautiful.

Suspiciously beautiful.

Then—

WOOSH!

A gust of wind spiraled around his ankles, and a soft, glowing mist rose from the sand. Mystical symbols flickered across the sky like a celestial slideshow, and somewhere, faint harp music began to play like a fantasy soundtrack with a budget.

Lucien gasped. "Oh my gods... Am I having another pregnancy prophecy moment?!"

He clutched his chest with glee. "It’s the third time already! Honestly, I should be charging entry tickets."

Then he beamed like a man blessed by the dream-gods themselves. "But... I don’t mind. It means I get to see my wobblebean... Just me and my precious little dumpling."

He dramatically flung his arms open. "MOMMY IS HERE, WOBBLEBEAN!!! DESCEND UNTO ME IN A GOLDEN EGG!!!"

And then—

...

...

Nothing.

Lucien blinked.

Not even a shimmer of baby magic. Just... one lonely seashell tumbling across the sand like a sad extra.

"...HELLO??" he yelled. "Where’s the glowing egg of fate?! Where is my squishyball wobblebean?? This is supposed to be a divine pregnancy prophecy, not a budget beach picnic from a failed reality show!"

He stood up and slapped his palms on his hips like a scandalized auntie. "Are we playing treasure hunt now? Is that it?! Is this a test?! Fine! Challenge accepted."

He pointed at the ocean. "You think I won’t dive in with this pregnant back?!"

Silence.

Lucien gasped dramatically and dropped to the sand. "Then I shall FIND MY DESTINY, BEAN!!"

He scrambled across the beach like a glitter-crazed crab. "Where’s my wobblebean?! My golden-egg baby?! My glowing prophecy toddler?! WHERE?!"

He threw himself down like a Shakespearean actor mid-tragedy, digging through the sand.

"HELLOOO?? Are you hiding in a clam?! A sea cave?! BEHIND THAT DRAMATIC CORAL REEF?!"

He even poked under a sketchy-looking seaweed clump with two fingers. "If you’re in there, Wobblebean, blink twice!"

He flipped over a patch of seaweed—and gasped.False alarm. Just a disgruntled crab giving him the side-eye like he was the intruder.

Lucien sighed, dramatically wiping imaginary sweat off his brow. "Fine. It’s alright. Maybe the dream operator decided to spice things up. Maybe they hid my wobblebean... behind a tree!"

He spun around, eyes darting to the nearest coconut tree. Nothing.Peered under a suspiciously big leaf. Still no wobbly golden egg.

He squinted at a sand dune like it owed him child support. Nothing. Just more dream glitter and existential disappointment.

Then, with rising despair— "WHY CAN’T I FIND MY WOBBLEBEAN?!"

His lips trembled. His voice cracked like a soap opera hero losing his lover in episode 99. The sky didn’t answer. The ocean didn’t weep. Only the crab clicked its claw in passive judgment.

"Wait... WAIT, no. No, no, no—don’t tell me—something happened to my child?!"

His voice hit decibel levels only dogs could hear. "Did that IDIOT BAKER put too much FLOUR in the FATE RECIPE?! DID SILAS DROP MY EGG?! WAS IT THE DAMN FALL?! DID THE BABY DECIDE TO REINCARNATE IN A BETTER STORYLINE?!"

He collapsed like a Victorian widow, sobbing into the sand, fists flailing toward the heavens.

"I’M A FAILURE! A FAILURE!! I LOST MY SYWUSHIEBALL WOBBLEBEAN!! I SHALL NEVER RECOVER!! I’LL AGE LIKE ROTTED CHEESE!!"

Then—

Something touched his ankle.

Lucien SCREECHED and flailed like a startled seagull. "SOMETHING’S GOT MY LEG!! THIS IS HOW HORROR MOVIES START!! I’M TOO PREGNANT FOR POSSESSIONS—"

He looked down.

And stopped breathing.

There, gripping his leg with pudgy hands, was the most adorable, squishy-faced, apple-cheeked baby he’d ever seen. The child looked up at him with red eyes so big and bright they could give stars a complex. Soft black hair curled across their head like night-kissed silk.

Lucien blinked. "Who...? Who forgot this treasure on my beach?"

The baby giggled. A happy, wobbly giggle like a tiny bell wrapped in gigglesauce.

Lucien stared harder.

"...Wait."

He dropped to his knees.

"WAIT."

He squinted. "Red eyes. Black hair. Tiny little pufferfish cheeks. Royal-level cuteness. Perfect leg-gripping strength..."

He gasped.

And then he screamed.

"IT’S MINEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!"

He yoinked the baby into his arms like a madman and spun in delirious circles on the sand. "MY BABYYYYY!! MY WOBBLEBEAN!! MY SYWUSHIEBALL WOBBLEBABY!!!"

The baby cooed, drooled, and clapped as Lucien peppered their cheeks with a hundred kisses.

"MWAH!! MWAH!! MOMMY MISSED YOU!! LOOK AT YOUR SMOL WRINKLY TOES—OH GODS, THEY’RE PERFECT!!"

The baby squeaked.

Lucien squeaked louder.

"You’re so adorable I could DIE AND ASCEND IMMEDIATELY."

He pressed his forehead to the baby’s. "Who made you this cute?! Huh?! Who did it?!"

The baby babbled something that sounded suspiciously like "moooomy."

Lucien gasped so hard the ocean pulled back in fear. "YES. THAT’S RIGHT. MOMMY. IT’S ME. MOOOOOOMMYYYYY!!"

He threw his arms to the sky, holding the baby aloft like a majestic offering, crown prince of squish.

"I AM THE MOTHER OF THIS CHAOTICALLY PERFECT WOBBLEBEAN!!" he bellowed like a divine soap opera queen. "BOW BEFORE US, DREAM REALM!!"

And the realm delivered.

Glowing whales leapt from the ocean like fireworks in fish form, waves crashed in rhythmic applause, and a choir of enchanted ducklings waddled forth, harmonizing in a celestial "quaaAAaack."

Lucien cradled the baby close, forehead pressed to the chubby one, tears glimmering like stardust in his lashes. "You are mine. My wobblebean. My pudding cup. My legacy. My tiny overlord. My reason for losing sleep and gaining baby fat. I love you sooooo much it’s unhinged."

The baby giggled.

Then drooled.

Then reached up and tried to eat Lucien’s nose with suspicious precision.

"Ah—nonono, sweetheart, that’s a mommy part, not a snack!"

Just then—

A distant voice echoed through the pastel sky.

"Lucien... please... wake up..."

Lucien blinked.

His head tilted like a confused, fabulous puppy.

"...Huh? Was that Silas?" He looked down at the baby. "Was that your daddy’s dramatic voice echoing from the void, or did the ducks evolve?"

Wobblebean clapped their chubby hands and burbled something like "Da-da-da."

Lucien gasped. "Oh gods. He said ’DADA.’ HE SAID IT!! I KNEW YOU WERE GIFTED!!"

Then the voice again, louder this time— "Lucien, please... I beg you... I swear to protect you... please come back to me..."

Lucien blinked rapidly. The sand shimmered. The whales flickered. The duck choir quacked in a minor key.

The dream wobbled.

Reality—rude, grey, and much less beachy—began to slither in at the edges.

"WAIT—no, NO, NOT YET!!" Lucien clutched the baby tighter. "I DIDN’T EVEN GET TO BITE THEIR CHEEK PROPERLY!!"

The light grew harsher. The world began to pull away. Lucien flailed. "I—WAIT—WAIT—WAIT JUST A DAMN MINUTE!!!"

His eyes widened.

He froze.

His voice dropped into a dramatic whisper of destiny. "...I FORGOT TO CHECK MY WOBBLEBEAN’S GENDER!!"

Cue screaming.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

He threw his head back. "HOW WILL I BUY COLOR-CODED SOCKS?! WHAT IF I ORDER THE WRONG GENDERED STROLLER IN MY NEXT DREAM?!"

The beach cracked.

The sky shattered.

The baby stared up at him, unfazed, gnawing on their foot.

Lucien was mid-gasp—mouth wide open, tears frozen mid-cheek, as if someone paused his scene for commercial break—

When his eyes SNAPPED OPEN.

GASP.

Lucien bolted upright in bed with all the grace of a cat thrown into a bathtub.

He was sweating. Disoriented. Emotionally violated by prophetic dreams.

His hands immediately clutched at his stomach. "Are you okay in there, wobblebean?! Did you see what I saw?! WERE YOU GENDERLESS INTENTIONALLY, OR WAS I INTERRUPTED?!"

Beside him, a voice choked softly. "Lucien...?"

Lucien whipped his head sideways—hair wild, cheeks puffed, still in full "dream mom" mode.

There, hovering beside the bed, was Silas.

Hair messy.

Eyes red and looked like a panda.

Holding his hand.

He blinked again. "...Silas?"

Silas let out a breath like he’d been holding it since the dawn of time, then immediately crushed Lucien into a hug that bordered on illegal. "Thank the gods. You’re awake."