"Did I wet the bed, or was it the bigger one?" Osim felt embarrassed and uncomfortable.
"Take it easy, Osim. You are now a baby!" he tried to console himself.
Despite his efforts to remain calm, a chilling sensation on his bottom didn't comfort Osim. Osim desperately attempted to remove the wet cloth, using his legs and hands, but his efforts proved futile. Finally, he gave up, closed his eyes, and stopped moving. Unaware of the approaching footsteps in his current condition, he remained still.
The footsteps halted near the wooden fence. Osim became startled as two hands lifted him upward. He almost opened his eyes, but he quickly shut them again. He didn't ready to face the situation as inside he was an adult.
He sensed that he was suspended in the air, supported by a hand on his back. At the same time, another hand removed his cloth and gently wiped his lower body.
Curiosity overcame his stubbornness, and Osim cautiously opened his right eye. Before him stood a beautiful girl—not the epitome of beauty, but with slight makeup, she could easily become one of the most stunning models on Earth. While her physical charm captivated him, there was something else that drew his attention—the pain and sorrow reflected in her eyes.
"Why am I crying?" Osim wondered as tears welled up at the corners of his eyes.
The girl noticed his tears and wiped them away with a clean cloth. However, Osim's tears didn't cease; instead, they multiplied. He observed the girl growing sadder with each tear that formed on his face. This time, instead of attempting to wipe them away, she gently placed him on the bed and turned towards the opening.
"Did she leave me because of my crying?" Osim pondered, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl as she departed. It was then he noticed her wearing a black cape, like in a fantasy tale, though worn and patched in various places.
Just as the footsteps receded, Osim asked Hope, "Hey, Hope, can you show me her face again?" He longed to see her once more.
"Sorry, sir, that function is unavailable to sustain the emergency system," Hope responded, unable to fulfill his request.
"That's unfortunate. Will I see her again?" Osim wondered. His tears were nearly subsiding when, to his surprise, the sound of footsteps grew closer. He directed his gaze towards the sound and saw the girl returning, this time carrying a tray. Approaching the wooden fence, she placed the tray on a surface behind Osim's head. With gentle hands, she lifted him onto her lap and sat down.
Ensuring he was comfortably positioned, she attempted to feed him using a spoon. As Osim took his first bite, he couldn't help but think, "That's disgusting," almost causing him to vomit. Nevertheless, he managed to control himself and swallowed the half-liquid food. "I need more energy. I have three mouths to feed," Osim thought, determined to wake his companions as early as possible. With each subsequent bite, Osim made an effort to present himself as a cheerful and obedient baby before the girl. And it seemed to work. The girl's countenance grew less gloomy as the feeding session progressed.
####
Special Log Entry: 1 Month Old
Although Hope can save everything I see, I still want to write this log as a remembrance of my first month spent with the beauty. The time counter reset when I died for the second time in the chamber. So new countdown started from that fateful day. I choose that day as my birthday. So, on paper, today I became a one-month-old baby.
A lot of things have happened in this month. Where do I even begin? Let's start with Isabella. I believe that's her name. How do I know? Well, I'll explain in the second half.
Isabella has been taking care of me since day one. In this month, I've only seen her and a few times an old geezer. She lives in this room with me. Apart from the crib where I rest, there's a bed, a table, a chair, and a wardrobe in the room. Nothing else. Oh, I almost forgot, there are some books on the table. Most of the time, she spends her days reading besides taking care of me.
I've already gathered data from Hope about a baby's behavior during the first month. Babies can hardly do anything during that time. So, whenever Isabella is around, I remain still in bed, not attempting to move as I didn't want to appear as an abnormal baby in front of her. But when she's outside the room, I try to exercise by kicking and punching. With my perseverance, I can now crawl inside the crib like those commandos in movies.
Apart from feeding and changing my diapers, she sometimes takes me in her lap and walks around the room. Sometimes she also swings me gently. I always try to laugh when I'm with her to brighten her mood.
What saddens me is that Isabella never takes me outside the room, not even for a bath. She always brings a big bowl of water and places it on the table. Then she gently washes my body and little hair. Also, she always covers herself with that old cape, so I can hardly see her face and hands. From what I can assume, she belongs to a Caucasian family, based on her fair complexion.
Yesterday, I gathered my courage and tried to peek from the railing of the crib. I almost got caught, but with a quick glance, I lowered my head to avoid any trouble. I caught a glimpse of one of the most beautiful white dresses I have ever seen, which she seems to wear beneath the cape. I wish she would never wear that disgusting cape.
I think Isabella is very kind to me. Though I had no big sister, I can give her that position. She is very likable. But one strange thing about Isabella is that she never talks or makes any sound, as if she's deafer than deaf. She also never eats in the room. Perhaps she eats in the kitchen, from where she brings my food. Speaking of food, I believe the cook has become more skilled as the days have progressed, or maybe my taste buds have deteriorated. Because now, I genuinely enjoy mealtime. The food seems more delicious, the flavors more balanced, and I can easily gulp it down. And the proof of that statement is that here, inside the crib, a chubby, round meatball is rolling. Yeah, that's me—the fattest one in the room, maybe fatter than Isabella.
Now, in the second part, I will talk about the old geezer.
The first time I saw him, I knew he was the person behind everything that has happened to me. He is an ugly-faced, mean-looking old geezer, wearing a black cape with golden designs, impersonating some kind of royal magician. Although I highly doubt any king would tolerate his presence in any court meeting! That's how ugly he looks.
He has visited Isabella and me countless times. Every time he tried to approach me, Isabella stood between us, and I could see his face becoming even uglier. He would yell at her for quite a while, but I couldn't understand a single word, except for one. The word I understood from his yelling was 'Isabella'—he used the name often. So, I assume that the beauty is Isabella. As I mentioned before, I think Isabella may be deaf. To solidify my assumption, let me tell you that throughout these heated conversations, Isabella never uttered a sound; she just stood there silently. That's why I think she may have lost her ability to speak.
Although the geezer yelled at her a lot, I believe he is actually afraid of her. I derived this idea from a particular incident.
A few days ago, Isabella wasn't in the room, and, well, I wet my pants. I waited for her for quite some time, but she didn't come. Afraid of catching a cold, I mustered all my effort to remove my pants and rolled to the dry side of the bed. As I caught my breath, I heard a familiar sound of sliding. I looked in that direction, expecting to see Isabella, but instead, I saw the old geezer. This was the first time he came when Isabella wasn't around. He approached the crib and, for the first time, picked me up (playing as if I were dead), holding me in the air and laughing creepily. He started saying something, although I couldn't understand a word. An urge rose inside me, the desire to avenge my past two lives. But my punches would not affect him or the system. However, I possessed a divine weapon to undermine him, at least his pride. Amidst his rambling, I slowly opened my eyes, tried to smile as innocently as possible, and fired my little water pistol right at his face. Bullseye! His face was drenched in holy water. But instead of making him handsome, the holy water increased his ugliness!
Believe me, you will never witness a face as ugly as his in any universe. His eyes turned blood-red. For a moment, he stood still, though his face was always changing colors. Then, the danger approached. Holding me with one hand, he grabbed my neck tightly with the other. I began to choke. Just as I was on the verge of death for the third time, he suddenly paused and loosened his grip on my neck. I saw him give a sideways glance. I followed his gaze and saw my angel. Isabella was standing there, looking at the man's grip. And then, I don't know how, but she was standing in front of him, and I was cradled in her lap.
I glanced back at the geezer and realized that instead of anger, his face was now filled with sheer horror.
He hastily muttered something to Isabella and quickly left the room. As he exited, I nestled myself in her embrace, seeking solace and safety.
From that moment, I confirmed that although the geezer acts like a boss in front of her, he is actually afraid of Isabella.
Isabella may enter in a minute. I will stop now.
#####
Osim stopped the log entry and waited and waited, but after a few minutes, he grew impatient.
"Hey, Hope. How much time has passed since Isabella left?" he inquired.
"32 minutes and 45 seconds," replied Hope.
"Has something happened? She should be here by now. I don't want a repeat of that day," Osim expressed his concern.
As impatience took hold of him, he heard a familiar noise. He turned his gaze towards the door, expecting to see Isabella, but instead, he was horrified to find the old geezer entering the room. The geezer hurriedly approached the crib, speaking an unknown language.
"Hope, make sure to capture every word he's saying," Osim reminded.
"Yes, sir," responded Hope.
The man reached the crib and extended his right hand towards Osim, still rambling on. Initially, Osim didn't notice, but then he realized something was different this time. The geezer held a black staff with a red crystal on its head in his left hand.
"Something feels ominous," Osim thought uneasily.
This time, instead of lifting Osim, the geezer placed his right hand on Osim's head. Osim looked up at him and saw the familiar creepy smile. The geezer resumed speaking, but this time with his eyes closed.
"Aww! Aww! Aww!" For the first time, a cry escaped Osim's lips as he experienced excruciating pain in his head.
"Warning! Warning! An unknown energy is attempting to invade the master's brain. Please exercise caution," Sophia's voice echoed once again, though it was not a joyful moment. However, her words triggered a thought in Osim's mind. "That geezer is tampering with my memory."
"Sophia, transfer all my memory to your database," Osim commanded with difficulty, as the pain clouded his thoughts.
"Command accepted. Transferring the data," Sophia replied.
"1%, 2%, 3%..." A floating panel appeared in front of Osim's eyes, but he could barely focus on it.
Meanwhile, the geezer continued his brutal actions.
"80%, 81%..."
"The process has been halted. With the reserve power nearly depleted, all activities are shutting down. The main system and emergency system will now enter hibernation. 3, 2, 1..." Hikma's voice announced painfully.
"No, no! Please answer me," Osim pleaded, but this time, no sound resonated in his mind.
"Please, please, just draw energy from my body. Complete the transfer," he implored desperately.
But no help came.
As his desperation reached its peak, he somehow heard an unfamiliar word from an unknown voice, not in his mind but through his ears. Simultaneously, he realized that the pain in his head was subsiding.
Struggling to open his eyes and locate the source of the voice, the first thing he noticed was an old man with an outstretched hand frozen in place. "Who is he?" Osim wondered, still feeling the lingering pain. As he attempted to shift his gaze towards the source, someone lifted him, rescuing him from the grip of the geezer, and carried him towards the main bed. As he was placed on the bed, Osim finally caught sight of the unknown person. "Who is she?" he pondered in his mind. Then, a word escaped from the lips of the unknown person, "Isabella." The name felt strangely familiar to Osim, but couldn't understand why. His dried eyes began to produce tears once again, despite the pain having subsided a while ago.
"@$&%," Isabella uttered another incomprehensible word, leaving Osim unable to grasp its meaning. But the first word 'Isabella' chimed continuously until he fell to sleep.
As Osim succumbed to sleep, violet circles formed beneath his body. Within these circles, intricate symbols glowed with intensity, casting an otherworldly radiance. The circles grew brighter and brighter until, with a sudden 'whoosh,' Osim vanished from the confines of the bed. The circle started becoming dimmer after that.
As the last trace of violet light faded, a group of soldiers clad in heavy metal armor, wielding pikes in their right hands, stormed into the room.