THE EMPIRE: CAPITAL CITY
SOMEWHERE NEAR THE SLUMS –
(SEVERAL MONTHS LATER)
[Leo's POV]
"Mamaa!"
"Aahh! Leo, my cute baby!"
Inside a shabby little apartment, a woman scooped me into her arms, hugging me tightly like I was the greatest thing since sliced bread or whatever the mediaeval equivalent of that is.
Her laughter bounced off the cracked walls, and for a moment, the whole room seemed to glow.
She was gorgeous, no doubt about it, with long black hair that flowed down her back and a smile bright enough to blind you.
But her clothes?
Let's just say they'd seen better days. Patches on patches. Still, they were clean and neat, and somehow, she made them look graceful.
"Sit here and play with your toy like a good boy," she said, plopping me onto a blanket. "I'll make some puree for you to eat."
I obediently grabbed my wooden block, well, more like gnawed on it, because what else can a baby do?, and watched her hum her way into the kitchen.
Honestly, these last few months have been wild. I mean, how do you even begin to process waking up one day and realising you're trapped in a baby's body? No warning, no explanation.
Just BAM, you're tiny, chubby, and completely helpless. Let me tell you, it's not as cute as it sounds.
At first, I thought I was dreaming. Maybe some weird coma hallucination.
But nope. This was real. It hit me like a ton of bricks when I tried to move and realised my arms were basically useless twigs, and my legs? Total noodles.
Crawling was an Olympic-level challenge. Standing? Forget it. And speaking? Oh, man, I could barely form a sound that didn't resemble a dying bird.
"Guga! Baba!" Yeah, that was my vocabulary for a while. Pretty impressive, huh?
Honestly, if you've never felt the humiliation of flopping around like a fish out of water while people coo over how "adorable" you are, consider yourself lucky. But I digress.
The worst part?
The shame. I was a grown man in my past life, at least, I think I was.
Memories of my old life are fuzzy, like trying to remember a dream after you've woken up. But being reduced to a wiggling, babbling potato? Let's just say my pride took a beating.
Still, there were… perks. Like Liya, my mom in this life. Her laughter made every faceplant during my crawling practice feel worth it.
She'd cheer for me like I'd just won a marathon when all I'd done was roll over without falling flat on my face. I guess when you're a baby, the bar is set pretty low.
I did learn to crawl eventually. And then walk. Sort of. If you count wobbling like a drunk duck as walking. And hey, at least I wasn't totally useless anymore.
Learning to talk was another challenge, but I'm a fast learner (not bragging, just stating facts).
The language here isn't too different from one I vaguely remember from my past life. Though, for the life of me, I couldn't tell you what that old language was called. Memories of my previous life are like bad Wi-Fi, but frustratingly slow to load.
As for this world? Definitely mediaeval. No electricity, no gadgets, just lots of candles and horses. But it's not all bad. The air feels cleaner here, and the stars? Gorgeous. Still, poverty hits hard.
Speaking of poverty, let's talk about Liya and my dad, Ron. Their backstory is straight out of a tragic ballad.
Childhood sweethearts from a small village, they got married and decided to move to the capital for a better life after taxes and poor harvests made it impossible to survive back home.
Spoiler alert. Life in the capital wasn't exactly a fairytale.
Jobs were scarce, and the ones that paid well were sketchy at best. Liya and Ron managed to scrape by, with Ron eventually finding work at a smithy.
Not as a blacksmith, though, he was more of a glorified delivery guy, hauling tools and materials around. It wasn't glamorous, but it kept us fed and sheltered. Barely.
Our apartment is in the slums, near a gambling den. Not exactly prime real estate, but it's home. And honestly? It's not so bad. I've got Liya, who's basically a human ray of sunshine, and Ron, who works his butt off to keep us afloat.
"Creak."
"I'm home, honey!"
"Welcome home, Ron!"
My dad walked in, brushing snow off his coat. He looked tired but happy, with his messy brown hair and a grin that made his face light up.
"Hey there, junior!" he said, crouching down to ruffle my hair.
"Welcoomee hoome!" I chirped back, nailing my delivery like a pro.
"That's my boy!" He laughed, standing up and heading to the kitchen. "What's for dinner?"
I turned back to the window as he and Liya started chatting. Snowflakes were drifting down outside, covering the streets in a soft, white blanket. This was my first winter, at least in this life, and it was… kind of magical.
I pressed my chubby little hand against the glass, watching the world outside. The slums were rough, but there was a strange beauty to them in the snow. Everything looked softer, quieter.
Liya poked her head out of the kitchen, her emerald-green eyes sparkling as she checked on me. I immediately grabbed my block and started playing again, trying to look busy.
Our eyes met, and she gave me that warm, gentle smile of hers. The kind of smile that could melt even the coldest heart.
For a moment, I forgot all about my past life. All the confusion, the frustration, the humiliation, it all faded away.
"Dinner's almost ready!" she called, and I could hear Ron laughing at something she said.
I turned back to the window, my hand still resting on the cold glass. The snow was falling heavier now, blanketing the streets in white. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear kids laughing and playing.
This wasn't the life I'd expected. Heck, it wasn't even the life I'd wanted. But as I sat there, warm and safe in our little apartment, I realised something.
For the first time, I wasn't alone. And maybe, just maybe, that made this strange new life worth living.