It had been more than six months since I was born into this world, and the strange reality of being a baby had slowly become my new normal. My mind still held on to fragments of my past life—memories of a world that seemed so far away now. But as a baby, I had no choice but to adjust to my new circumstances.
Food was simple here—mostly rice and vegetables, which I ate in small portions. As a baby, my appetite was limited, and while the food wasn't anything special, it was more than enough to sustain me. It was a far cry from the food of my previous world, but in this new body, I could feel no desire for the things I used to crave.
What truly consumed my thoughts was how much I had come to realize that I was not just in a different world, but in the world of The World of Magic and Sword, the novel I had been reading before I had found myself here. It became undeniable when I looked out of the small window one night and saw the two moons—one red and one blue, just as described in the book. That sight sent a chill down my spine. This was the world of magic, monsters, and heroes, but more importantly, it was a world where I wasn't sure how—or why—I had arrived.
The realization of being in this world also came with a wave of worry. The world within the book was full of danger and uncertainty. Powerful beings roamed this land—humans, elves, demons, magical beasts—and their powers could easily topple anyone who was unprepared. I couldn't help but feel anxious when I thought about the future, about what would happen to me and my family. What if danger came to our door? What if we were caught up in the conflicts of this chaotic world? My mind raced with these questions, but I couldn't answer them. I could only wait and watch as time passed.
My parents were kind and loving, and as much as they tried to care for me, it was hard not to feel the weight of the situation. I knew I was not just Noah, the baby they cared for. I was Kido Katsuo, the man who had lived a full life before all of this.
My mother, young and full of energy, doted on me with an enthusiasm that was almost overwhelming. She must have been in her twenties, newly a mother, and I could see how deeply she loved me. She would talk to me, tell me stories, and though I couldn't understand her words fully, the warmth in her voice was unmistakable. I tried to follow along with her babbling, but my limited understanding made me feel more like a stranger in my own body.
I couldn't help but feel embarrassed at times, caught in the body of a baby while having the mind of a man in his thirties. My mother's playful gestures, her cooing, the way she treated me like a fragile doll—it was all so far removed from my past life. But, at the same time, it was heartwarming. I was a grown man trapped in a helpless body, and yet, I could see the love in her eyes. For all my rational thinking, I couldn't deny the comfort her presence brought.
My father, though I still didn't know his name, was a young man too—likely in his twenties. He worked hard every day, and I suspected he was a blacksmith. The tools in the house and the smell of metal in the air confirmed that much. He would leave for work early in the morning, and when he returned in the evening, he would spend what little time he had with me. Even though I didn't see him much, I could feel his love for me in every gentle touch and smile.
It was frustrating, not being able to speak, not being able to explain myself or my thoughts. I was a grown man in the body of a baby, but no one could understand that. I could only observe, feel, and think. The world around me seemed both familiar and foreign. Despite my inability to speak or move like an adult, I felt a strange sense of contentment. My parents cared for me, and though I wasn't entirely sure of the details of this world, I had a sense that everything was unfolding according to some grand design.