Sora's Perspective
This is boring.
Am I supposed to wait for years to grow up?
Ah, what was that saying? Something about how men must be patient to achieve great things. Or something like that.
Spending time like this is dull.
Most of my days are spent staring at the ceiling. Occasionally, that girl—my older sister—comes to play with me.
What's up with her? While she plays with me in a sweet and sisterly manner, to me, it feels like she's just showing off her ability to move around freely in front of me.
Life is tough.
Of course, all I can do during these moments is crawl around and look at her with a dumb smile.
How old am I now? Six months? Nine months? I've lost track. I stopped counting after a while—it was too boring.
At first, I was excited. I had broken free from the chains of fate! A new life, a new world, and a supernatural ability to boot.
But over time, my enthusiasm began to wane.
I mean, I'm a baby! No, I used the wrong word.
I'm an infant!
What can infants do? Nothing but drink their mother's milk and wait for their diapers to be changed.
In my past life, I was addicted to web novels for a time. During that phase, I used to laugh at the reincarnators and their struggles with diapers and breastfeeding.
Now I'm drinking from the same bitter cup, and honestly, it's embarrassing. It feels like I'm slapping my face.
Let's not talk about these humiliating topics any further.
"Creak."
The door opened, and one of the maids entered the room.
This was the maid assigned to care for me. She was a middle-aged woman with brown hair and dark green eyes, dressed in the standard black-and-white maid uniform.
All nobles seemed to have personal attendants.
I still don't fully understand this world, but from what I've observed, it seems to be medieval or something similar—in short, it has a Western aesthetic.
Also, I'm a noble.
This maid is more like a nanny to me. From what I've seen, my mother has a weak constitution and sleeps most of the time, so she can't care for me all the time.
As usual, the maid moved gracefully, opened the window, and began tidying up the room.
"Whoosh."
A cool breeze brushed against my face, carrying with it the warmth of sunlight. Ah, this breeze and the golden rays of the sun. Just imagining such a serene atmosphere with a hot cup of coffee and a good book makes me feel at ease.
Does coffee exist in this world? I hope so.
With all my heart, I hope so. It would be harsh if I couldn't find any.
The maid cleaned the room meticulously, making sure not to make any noise that might disturb me. She's thoughtful and kind, though I wouldn't have minded a little noise.
Once she was satisfied with the state of the room, she approached me, lifted me by my armpits, and placed me on her shoulder. She gently patted my back a few times until I let out a small burp.
This was part of our daily routine.
Carrying me out of the room, she began walking down the corridor. Along the way, the other servants smiled warmly when they saw me. Some even pinched my cheeks affectionately, muttering words I couldn't understand.
Please stop. I'm not a child. This is embarrassing.
I'll remember the faces of everyone who embarrassed me by pinching my cheeks and bully them with my young master authority in the future! Just kidding—I have no interest in doing that.
Even without trying, I seem to be quite popular in the palace.
My father is a noble of high standing.
Perhaps that's why he's always busy—I don't see him very often.
The palace itself is massive, likely larger than the residences of presidents or merchants in my previous life. Servants are everywhere, attending to various tasks.
So far, the people I know in the palace are my father, my mother, my older sister, my nanny, and the head butler.
I don't know their names, so I just refer to them this way. At least I know my new name.
It's Arai.
The journey to my mother's room wasn't far, and we arrived quickly. The maid opened the door and placed me on the bed next to my mother.
It's strange, isn't it? I'm just an infant, yet I was placed in a room separate from my mother.
I don't know the reason, nor do I care to know—it's more convenient for me this way.
I glanced at my mother, who was staring out of the window, her face devoid of emotion.
Her beautiful gray eyes looked empty and hollow, and her black hair swayed gently in the breeze.
She wore a light white gown.
She seemed lost in thought as she gazed at the blue sky through the window.
If there's one thing I've noticed about my mother during this time, it's that she's often absent-minded.
It's as if her body is here, but her mind is somewhere else.
Is something wrong with her? I don't know, but I suspect so.
After a few minutes, my mother noticed me and smiled warmly.
This smile was genuine—not forced or artificial.
In reality, my mother is extremely caring toward me. Since the original owner of this body had died shortly after birth, she's terrified of losing her child again.
I stayed in the room for a while, my needs were attended to—feeding and diaper changes included.
As a man who was once 23 years old, this was enough to embarrass me to death. But what can I say? I just have to endure it.
At first, it was unbearable. I even fought my mother when she tried to nurse me for the first time.
I lost that battle entirely, receiving a sharp slap on my bottom and being called a word I think meant "naughty child."
That slap stung.
Repeated occurrences of this routine gradually dulled my embarrassment.
Still, there's a tiny part of me that screams in shame every single time.
"Creak!"
The door opened, and my sister burst in, disrupting the peace.
"Mama! Arai!" she shouted, leaping into my mother's arms. Of course, she didn't forget to scoop me up for a hug too.
...
I still hadn't fully grasped the language of this world, so I couldn't understand most conversations.
I could pick up a few repeated words, like my name and the words "Mama" and "Papa" that my older sister often said. But as for the conversations between my mother and sister, I was completely in the dark.
"Th# wo#ds… a#e so#ewh#t li#e th#s…"
I could catch a few letters here and there, but mostly, it sounded like fragmented gibberish to me.
No one spoke to me much (I am an infant, who would?), which was why I hadn't learned the language yet.
Heh, but with my incredible genius and unmatched talent, I could probably master this language in a month! Just kidding. But in reality, it probably wouldn't take that long.
"Ar#y…"
I tried pronouncing my name but didn't do a great job of it.
It came out more like "Ary" instead of "Arai."
This was going to take some practice.
I had already come to terms with my new reality and identity a long time ago. I mean, there's a thing called "integration and acceptance"! I'm not the kind of person who clings to their pride and refuses to change their name or identity under any circumstances.
Well, that's not entirely accurate—I am quite prideful. But my pride applies to myself, and that doesn't necessarily include my name or identity.
What is a name? It's just a way for others to address you and distinguish you from the rest—nothing more.
Of course, some people feel emotionally attached to their names for various reasons, whether because they were given by their parents or for other sentimental values.
But I'm a rational person, and honestly, I don't care much about these things.
If I ever had to change the name "Arai" or assume another identity, I wouldn't hesitate to do it.
Self-preservation comes first; everything else follows.
As for a name? I think it's not that important.
Honestly, I wouldn't even mind telling this family that I'm a transmigrator.
It's not like I'm ashamed of my past life or that it's left some shadow on my soul. I don't care.
That said, is there any point in telling them? Is there any reason or benefit? I can't think of one, but perhaps in the future, I might. Oh, right, the chess-patterned man did warn me about this, didn't he? Well, I guess that's a reason not to tell them.
Still, I wouldn't mind.
"####!"
My mother said something in surprise, gently pinching my cheek after hearing my feeble attempt to speak.
"#### ### ##!!"
She picked me up from the bed, sat me on her lap, and said something I couldn't understand.
From her hand gestures and expressions, she seemed to be encouraging me to try speaking more.
Her eyes sparkled with excitement.
My older sister seemed delighted and surprised as well, both of them looking at me with bright, expectant eyes.
I can't disappoint them now, can I?
"Ar#ia…"
I'll try a few more times—I think I'll get it eventually.
"Aay#…"
Yes! I'm getting closer… I can do this!
"Ar#yo…"
"Ara#…!"
I did it!
My mother laughed joyfully, lifted me high, and showered me with praise.
"Arai ####!!"
I hadn't cared much before, but being lifted up and praised like this sparked a small sense of pride, even if I didn't want to admit it.
Wait, what's with this tsundere attitude? Just be honest with your feelings.
Be natural.
Be natural!!
Hmm… maybe starting over isn't all that bad.
But I still hate the boredom.
...
Third-Person Perspective
Arai lay peacefully asleep in his small crib.
Like any other child, his tiny body showed signs of active movement during his slumber—little twitches and stretches.
Three people stood beside him:
Verdi—his father, Kuyomi—his mother, and a man unknown to him.
"What do you think? Is he okay? Is there anything wrong with his body?" Kuyomi asked anxiously.
"Kanrom hasn't said anything yet," Verdi reassured her. "He's fine, isn't he, Kanrom?"
"His body is perfectly healthy, with no signs of any issues," Kanrom replied with a laugh. "Unless there's something I'm unable to detect, I'd say he's completely fine!"
It seemed that Kuyomi was deeply concerned about Arai's strange death right after birth. She had asked Verdi to bring someone to check on his condition—fearing that a hidden injury might have caused his death.
"Try again; you might find something!"
"I understand your concern, my lady. I'll try once more."
Kanrom raised his right hand and recited a few strange words:
"[Vine of Revelation!]"
A glowing green vine sprouted from Kanrom's palm. Vibrant and full of life, the vine pulsated with energy like a living serpent. It coiled around Arai's small hand and sent a green light into his body.
Arai, who had been peacefully asleep, suddenly felt something strange.
He opened his eyes gently to see what was going on, but what he saw almost made him scream like a frightened woman.
'What the hell is that?!'Arai's heart jumped in terror.
A thin green plant was attached to his right hand, and to make things worse, it was alive and moving!
The vine's texture was soft yet slightly dry; if not for its lack of warmth, Arai might have thought someone was harassing him in his sleep.
"This...?" Arai calmed himself from his initial panic and noticed the green glow and the presence of three people before him.
"What's going on?"
Moments later, the vine disappeared from his hand without leaving a trace.
"As I said, my lady, the child is perfectly healthy and safe!"
Kuyomi placed her hand over her chest and exhaled a sigh of relief, visibly relaxing. It was clear the matter had weighed heavily on her.
Unfortunately, Arai couldn't understand what they were saying. After everyone left, he had no choice but to reluctantly go back to sleep.
Yet, the scene replayed in his mind over and over.
"Was that magic? What was it?"
His stunned mind buzzed with questions, keeping him awake for a long time.