Birthing Legends: My Womb Creates SSS Monsters-Chapter 147: Is Gin HallucinaGing?! The King Is Totally Her Type!

Chapter 147: Is Gin HallucinaGing?! The King Is Totally Her Type!

A Godlike presence pressed into the room. Conversations died. Even breathing seemed to halt. Silver forks stilled mid air, no longer striking against plates.

Then the whispers began rising like a tide.

"The King... His Majesty is here."

Chairs scraped loudly against the floor. Mothers stood up so quickly their bowls tipped over, food spilling across the tables. The once quiet hall exploded into frantic movement. Women rushed toward the far doors where a tall figure had just entered, surrounded by knights in white armor.

"Your Majesty!"

"Please look at me!"

"Thank you for saving us!"

"Oh, you’ve blessed our lives... our Dragon King..."

Some of the mothers dropped to their knees. Others pushed forward desperately, their hands reaching out as if touching him would grant them a blessing.

Even Sarah struggled to stand. Her legs trembled, but she forced herself up anyway, clutching the edge of the table before slowly moving forward with the others.

"Sarah?" Shuna whispered.

Gin’s eyes widened in disbelief. She grabbed Sarah’s arm before she could take another step.

"Are you serious right now? After everything we just talked about... you’re still running to him like the others?"

Sarah gently pulled her arm free, her frail body shaking. She gasped, but her voice was no longer weak—it burned with a desperate, hungry devotion.

"No... I must... I must see him."

Gin stood frozen, stunned, watching as the fragile woman was swallowed by the crowd pressing toward the King.

"What the... what is happening..." she whispered.

Several women became unruly, pushing past each other, reaching through the line of knights.

"Your Majesty, please!"

"Just once—let me touch you!"

The knights stepped forward instantly, armored bodies forming a steel wall around the King. Hands gripped sword hilts, ready to strike if the crowd became too wild.

But the women didn’t stop. To them, this wasn’t just a king. This was the man who had "saved" them—their... living God.

Shuna watched the scene unfold, her fingers slowly tightening around the edge of the table.

"...They really... worship a dragonborn as a God..."

Beside her, Gin slowly rose from her seat. Her eyes widened when she noticed something in the crowd. The woman Sarah had pointed at earlier, the one who had looked lifeless, her face empty and hollow, was now forcing herself forward with the others. Her body swayed weakly, but her hands still reached out toward the King.

Gin stared at the scene, her voice low, almost stunned.

"Look at them."

Her eyes moved across the room, watching the desperate mothers reaching for him.

"They’re starving... broken... half dead... And yet the moment he walks in, they come alive."

She watched the hollow woman push through the crowd, her empty eyes suddenly burning with desperate purpose.

"...It’s like something inside them awakens. Their blood remembers before their minds do. It’s instinct—an urge to draw closer, to serve, to protect... to give their very lives to the King... no, to a Dragonborn."

Around them, the mothers spoke over one another, their voices a frantic chorus of desperation and devotion, making Gin’s observation painfully real.

"My King! I am bearing your child, and this time, I swear my child will not burn! I promise you! And after this... let me bear another!"

"We will keep trying! We won’t fail you!"

The hall trembled with their collective voices, each word a vow and a prayer.

"We won’t stop bearing your children... until we give you Dragonborn!"

The crowd surged forward. Hands reached for the King—some trembling with devotion, others shaking with desperation. A few women pushed past the lines of knights, their eyes shining with a feverish hope as they tried to touch even the edge of his cloak.

"Please, my King—just once! Let me touch you! We barely had time on our seeding!"

The knights stepped in quickly, shields and arms forming a wall.

"Back! Stay back!"

One knight shoved too hard. A pregnant woman stumbled as the force struck her shoulder. Her balance broke, her body tipping backward toward the stone floor.

"Ah—!"

Before she could fall, Gin moved.

Her arm shot forward, catching the woman around the waist and pulling her steady. The woman clutched her stomach instinctively, breathing hard, her face pale with shock.

Gin leaned close, whispering urgently,

"Y-you okay? Damn it... be careful! You have a child in your belly!"

The hall froze. A sudden pressure spread through the air, the sound of bones cracking and they all knew what that meant... Drakovitch’s voice followed. Cold.

"If a single hair on that child is harmed..."

The King slowly turned his head toward the knight who had pushed her.

"I will peel the skin from your skull myself. Do you understand?"

The words fell like a blade. The knight’s face drained of color. His armor rattled as he dropped to one knee immediately, head bowing so low his helmet nearly struck the floor.

"M-My King! Forgive me! I meant no harm!"

No one spoke. Even the frantic mothers fell silent. Gin stared at Drakovitch, genuine surprise flickering across her face. For a moment, she had expected anger for the disorder... not this.

Not concern.

The woman she held clutched her belly tighter, tears forming in her eyes.

"My King..." she whispered weakly.

Drakovitch turned to the woman Gin was holding. He reached out a large, calloused hand and gently touched her shoulder.

"Be at peace, Mother. You carry the future of Drakaria. You are precious to me."

Gin watched him, her breath hitching. She had expected a monster. She had expected a tyrant... but as he stood there, smiling softly at the weeping woman, she saw something else.

He was... beautiful. His jawline was sharp enough to cut a paper. His hair flowed like liquid midnight, and the scent coming off him... it was a scent that made her hunter instincts scream and her throat go dry.

For long, shivering moments, she simply stared. Her heart thudded faster, her skin flushed, sweat prickling along her chest, just from looking at him, just from the impossible perfection of his presence....