𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 - 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘱𝘯

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘟𝘓𝘝𝘐

𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐂

𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐗
___________

You glance around the unfamiliar hospital room, the sterile scent of antiseptics filling the air. The moment you arrived in the human world, you were immediately taken here for medical attention after you revealed your pregnancy.

The hospital gown drapes loosely over your body, the fabric slightly rough against your skin. You shift uncomfortably—not because of the gown itself, but because of the unfamiliarity of it all.

Not long after stepping into the human world, in New York, government officials had been waiting. Among them was Mike Ratri, the current head of the Ratri Clan. He wasted no time in taking Norman and Ray for questioning, to figure out exactly who you all were, what you knew, and how you got here.

And now, you were alone.

For the first time, you weren't running, weren't fighting for survival. But the fear still lingered, a shadow that wouldn't fade so easily. The human world may not have demons, but you knew danger could exist anywhere.

A soft knock at the door makes you stiffen. The door opens, and a woman steps in, dressed in medical attire, a warm smile on her face.

"Hi, Y/N. How are you feeling?" Her voice is gentle, reassuring.

"...I'm okay." You murmur, though you aren't sure if you mean it.

She nods, setting the documents in her hands aside before sitting down on a small stool beside the bed. "I'm going to perform an ultrasound to check on the baby's condition. Would you please lie down?"

Swallowing nervously, you shift to lie back on the bed, your fingers twitching slightly as you rest them against the fabric of your gown.

"Lift your gown a little." she instructs while adjusting the ultrasound machine.

Your hands hesitantly grasp the hem of the gown, slowly pulling it up just enough to expose your stomach.

"I'll apply some gel now. It's going to be cold." she warns before squeezing a generous amount onto your skin. A shiver runs through you at the sudden chill, goosebumps rising along your arms.

The ultrasound wand presses against your stomach, firm but gentle, as she moves it around. You can feel your pulse in your ears, your gaze locked on her face, watching intently for any sign of concern. The silence stretches on, every second feeling heavier than the last.

Then, finally, she speaks. "You're about three weeks along. The fetus is growing normally, but I can see signs of stress."

Three weeks. That sounded right.

"Will it be okay?" Your voice comes out quieter than expected, uncertainty clinging to every word.

The doctor offers you a reassuring nod. "As long as you avoid stress, you and the baby should be just fine."

She turns the screen toward you, and there it is—a tiny, bean-like shape nestled inside you. A small, fragile life. Your child. Norman's child.

A strange warmth spreads through your chest, an odd mix of relief, fear, and wonder all at once. You weren't just surviving anymore. You were protecting something. Someone.

After the ultrasound, the doctor helps you clean off the gel before handing you a few essentials. "I'll have someone bring you a proper change of clothes soon. You should be as comfortable as possible."

"Thank you." You mutter softly. She simply flashes you a gentle smile before walking out.

_

After the examination, you are escorted to another section of the hospital where a small group of officials and caregivers wait for you. Their gazes aren't hostile, but they watch you carefully, assessing.