Being breastfed by my own mother didn't feel good—not in the slightest. Especially when I had the mind of a grown person trapped inside the fragile, helpless body of a baby. This wasn't just uncomfortable; it was humiliating on a level I never thought possible. I'd faced my fair share of indignities since being reborn, but this… this was the pinnacle of them all.
Worse than that was the first time I lost control and had to face the horror of going to the bathroom like an actual infant. That day, I wanted to crawl into a hole and bury myself, but eventually, I got over it. After all, survival meant adapting, even if it meant enduring the endless string of humiliations that came with this tiny, useless body.
But this? This was different. This was a new level of awkwardness I never thought I'd experience. No amount of mental preparation could have helped. I kept telling myself, It's natural. It's just biology. But my grown mind screamed otherwise.
Either way, it was done. What's done is done. No rewinding time. I'd just bury this memory deep in the vault of things I'd never think about again. Moving forward, I was sticking strictly to bottle feeding—no exceptions.
My mother looked at me with gentle eyes after finishing, her gaze lingering as if she wanted to hold me forever. The intensity of her stare was unsettling—not in a bad way, but in a way that made me feel small, fragile, and strangely vulnerable. Am I going weak? I wondered. Or is her love simply stronger than any strength I could muster? Either way, it didn't matter. I found myself helpless against that look—something I never thought possible.
Then, cutting through the heavy silence, my father's stern voice echoed. "It's time. You got what you wished for. Now, please go back before you harm your body further."
His words snapped my mother out of her trance. She blinked as if waking from a dream, her warm expression clouding with melancholy. Slowly, reluctantly, she handed me over to my father. Her fingers lingered on me for a moment longer, trembling slightly before letting go.
So all that nagging and arguing with Father… just to breastfeed me? The realization hit me, and I couldn't help but think, That's stupid.
Yet, the warmth of her touch still lingered on my skin.
"My little baby," she whispered softly, her voice filled with tenderness, "don't worry. I'll recover soon and be with you in my real body. Just wait for me… and the same goes for your father."
I noticed something peculiar: my parents hardly spoke to each other with words. It wasn't that they didn't communicate—it was the exact opposite. Their glances, subtle gestures, and fleeting expressions conveyed everything. It was as if they didn't need words to understand each other. They just… knew.
She closed her eyes, and as if triggered by that simple act, the shattered ice fragments scattered across the room began to move. They floated weightlessly, drawn together as though guided by an invisible force, seamlessly reforming around her fragile, beautiful body. It was as if the ice had never been broken in the first place.
A sudden, powerful wave of cold surged outward, sharper and more suffocating than before. My father reacted instantly, shielding me with a protective barrier, his arms firm yet gentle around me. His face remained as stoic as ever, but his quick response spoke of deep, hidden concern.
My mother's body slowly floated backward, drawn into the container like a fragile relic returning to its sacred vault. The glass cylinder began to rise, sealing her away in its isolated chamber. The glowing liquid poured in, filling the container until she was fully submerged, her form once again suspended in eerie, timeless stillness.
As the final drop of liquid settled, my robotic mother suddenly came to life. She moved slowly, her motions smooth yet mechanical, as if rebooting from a deep slumber. Approaching us with soft, calculated steps, she gently took me from my father's arms, cradling me with care as if nothing had happened—as if she hadn't just been a lifeless machine moments ago.
We retraced our path through the cold, sterile hallways, the silence broken only by the faint hum of machines and the echo of our footsteps. As we passed the area where the crying man had been earlier, I couldn't help but glance in his direction.
There he was again. But this time, something was different. His right arm was gone—severed at the shoulder, with crude, blood-soaked bandages wrapped tightly around the stump. Fresh blood still seeped through, leaving dark stains on the floor beneath him. His face was twisted in pain, his eyes hollow with despair.
What mistake did he make? The question flickered in my mind, but I quickly pushed it aside. His suffering was his own. It didn't concern me.
Leaving that thought behind, we continued on, the cold, clinical corridors stretching endlessly before us as we made our way back home.
===
I was eagerly waiting for tomorrow to arrive because it marked the beginning of something I'd anticipated for what felt like an eternity—a new mission from the system. Four years and two months of relentless patience had brought me to this moment. Now, with the mission so close, I couldn't suppress the excitement bubbling inside me. It felt like standing on the edge of a vast, unknown future, ready to leap.
Living in this new world for five years had given me a clearer understanding of my family situation. It also helped that I could finally speak, run, and hold actual conversations. Despite my growth, I wasn't allowed to venture beyond the bamboo forest that encircled our home. On rare occasions, I managed to catch glimpses of the outside world, though they were fleeting and limited.
Even with such restrictions, I'd pieced together enough information to realize the world I inhabited was chaotic and brutal. I'd gathered countless scraps of knowledge, most of it useless, but a few details stood out, shaping my understanding of the absurd reality I was part of.
The most baffling revelation? Our family name—Beggar.
When I asked my mother about it, she gave me the most ridiculous explanation imaginable. "My baby, your ancestor was a beggar. People called him that, so he called himself a beggar. And that's how our family name came to be."
I was dumbfounded. That's it? That's the grand origin story? What was my ancestor smoking when they named themselves this?
What made it even more absurd was the fact that we were insanely rich. I still didn't know the full extent of our wealth, but it was clear we possessed power and influence beyond comprehension. How could a family drowning in wealth and authority cling to a name like Beggar?
Adding to the madness, I discovered that my father was known as the Beggar King—and my grandfather? The Beggar Emperor.
Who in their right mind names themselves this way? Was it some twisted joke? A bizarre form of irony? I couldn't fathom the reasoning, and the more I thought about it, the more frustrated I became.
What infuriated me even more was the reverence people showed toward the name. No one ever referred to our family as the Beggar family. Not once. Instead, they addressed us as Lords—with unwavering respect and fear. It was as if the name itself had transcended its literal meaning, becoming something untouchable, shrouded in mystery.
As for the world itself, I learned that everyone here harnesses a power called Soul Force. Think of it like the Force from Star Wars, but on an entirely different scale—broader, deeper, and far more dangerous. Despite my curiosity, I still didn't fully understand how it worked.
When I asked my mother for details, she simply said, "Oh, my baby is curious about Soul Force? But you're still just a little baby," her voice dripping with that overly sweet, doting tone that made me internally cringe. She gently pinched my cheek as if that would somehow distract me from the question. "It's too dangerous. When the time comes, you'll understand."
Cryptic as always. But I wasn't going to stop digging. Not now.
Tomorrow marked the next step in this bizarre life I'd found myself in. And no matter how absurd or frustrating it got, I couldn't wait to see what came next.
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If we reach 100 stones, I'll reward you all with a bonus chapter!