I felt the weight of one hundred days pass before I could fully accept the truth of my reincarnation. As I lay there in my infant form, I heard a cheerful voice that drew my attention.
"A-woo!"
Turning my tiny head, I spotted a colorful baby rattle, and its cheerful, melodic voice guided my unsteady crawl toward it. Elisabeth, the woman who seemed to be my primary caregiver in this new life, encouraged me with a soft and soothing voice.
"Almost there!"
With a determination that belied my tiny body, I continued to make my way toward the enticing rattle.
"Aboo..."
The effort was taxing, and my head felt surprisingly heavy as I struggled to keep it upright. I teetered to the right, but before I could topple over, Elisabeth swiftly moved to catch me, her reflexes surprisingly quick. There was an air of grace about her that hinted at hidden martial skills.
"Did I surprise you, my little one? It's alright. You're safe," she reassured me, patting my back gently as I lay in her loving arms.
"Ooh," I cooed in response, content in her embrace, unfazed by her affectionate gestures.
"My little angel, shall we go see the flowers?" Elisabeth suggested, cradling me in her arms as she moved toward a sunlit window. The warm rays of sunlight streamed through the glass, casting a gentle glow that felt like a warm embrace.
I couldn't help but ponder the term of endearment she used—'my little angel.' She hadn't chosen my name yet, and I was still referred to by this nickname even after more than a hundred days had passed. I found it rather amusing.
I gazed around the room, my baby eyes taking in the sea-colored wallpaper and the magical lighting fixtures on the ceiling that illuminated the room, even at night. The grandeur of the room indicated that I was born into a family of wealth and prestige.
'Not bad,' I thought, considering that being reborn into a powerful or affluent family had its advantages. However, the memory of my past life and the brutality of my death, pierced by Damien Zagerfield's sword, fueled my unquenchable thirst for vengeance. Despite my emotionless upbringing as a mage, the memories of my past life were vivid, and my rage remained unbridled.
"But I should not be impatient," I reminded myself. My current situation was a mystery, and I was confined to this room.
I knew that I needed to gather information and plan my revenge carefully, as patience was a virtue I had honed as a mage. I had also inherited the 'Ten Eyes Mantra,' a powerful technique from a thousand years ago. With mastery of this skill, I might not need to resort to assassination; I could confront Damien Zagerfield directly.
"For now, I am starting to feel a little sleepy again…" I yawned, feeling the weight of a baby's limitations settling in as drowsiness overcame me.
"Are you getting sleepy, my little angel? Let's go to bed, then," Elisabeth said, slowing her gentle patting on my back. As I began to drift into slumber, my head began to fall backward.
Just then, an urgent voice shattered the tranquility of the moment.
"Lady Elisabeth!"
The door swung open without warning, and Elisabeth's maid rushed into the room.
"The head of the house is on his way!"
"Father-in-law?" Elisabeth's eyes widened at the maid's words.
'Father-in-law?' I wondered, realizing that the head of the house wasn't my father but my grandfather, as Elisabeth had addressed him.
"I-I must get ready…"
"It's too late! He's already here!"
"Oh dear!" Elisabeth and her maids grew flustered, their anxious footsteps filling the room.
The sound of stiff, purposeful footsteps echoed from outside the half-open door, signaling the imminent arrival of the head of the house.
'Who is the head of the house?' I wondered as I quietly opened my eyes and turned my gaze toward the door. An imposing figure approached, an old man with radiant silver hair and piercing blue eyes.
'Ah…' My perception of time seemed to slow as I met his intense gaze. The world around me blurred as I felt the full force of his presence.
"F-Father-in-law," Elisabeth stammered nervously.
"Is this the child?" The old man pointed toward me, his gaze as cold as ice.
"Oh, yes," Elisabeth confirmed, extending me in his direction.
'Ah…' My eyes widened as I met his gaze. Silver hair, piercing blue eyes, an old man exuding an aura of cold authority.
A revelation struck me like lightning. I had been reborn into the most formidable family on the continent—Roman Lionhart, the Ice Monarch of the North, presided over the Lionhart family, renowned as the pinnacle of the continent.