The world he now inhabited was foreign and distant, but somehow familiar. He couldn't explain it, but the moment he opened his eyes to the dimly lit room, a sense of something transcendent washed over him. He didn't know where he was, nor did he care. He was just a child, an infant, a new beginning for a soul that had long ceased to care about the world it once left behind.
He felt nothing as he gazed up at the unfamiliar faces surrounding him, their expressions a mix of curiosity, concern, and awe. He could see the way their mouths moved, but the words they spoke meant little to him. His body was weak, fragile, and his small fingers grasped at the fabric of his blanket, but he wasn't sure why. There was no innate longing for connection or warmth. He simply existed. He was a soul devoid of emotions—unmoved, untouched, untouched by anything.
This wasn't his first time living, no. His previous life had been one of indifference. He had felt no joy, no anger, no sadness, and no love. Even in his past life, he had been an observer, never truly participating in the highs and lows of human existence. But now he had been reincarnated, reborn as a newborn, and his second chance at life began here, in this unknown world, with strange, concerned faces leaning over him.
He stared up at them, his eyes blank, his face expressionless, as if he could feel nothing.
His new mother, Lady Elara, was the first to speak. Her voice was soft, like the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind, but there was an underlying tension in her words. "My child... my dear son," she whispered, lifting him gently from his cradle. "You've returned to me, and I will love you with all my heart."
Her words were warm, full of maternal affection. She held him close, her chest rising and falling in rhythm as she spoke. But the infant in her arms did not respond. He did not smile or cry. He simply existed.
Lady Elara, a noblewoman of high birth, was an elegant woman, with hair the color of midnight and eyes that shimmered like sapphires. Her beauty was renowned across the kingdom, and she had always been a pillar of grace and strength. She had hoped, long before his birth, that her child would grow up to be strong and capable—someone who would bring pride to the family.
But as she looked down at the child now in her arms, her expression faltered. She had heard rumors, whispers about his strange birth, and the unspoken doubts that clung to the very air surrounding the boy. The seers who had foretold his arrival spoke of a child who was different from others—one whose emotions were absent, whose soul was cold.
Lady Elara pressed her lips together, unsure of what to feel. Should she be worried? Should she try to force emotion into this child who seemed to have none? Her maternal instincts told her to try, but the cold emptiness in his eyes made it hard to know how to proceed.
Meanwhile, the maids in the room were unsure how to act. They stood in the corner, glancing at each other, whispering behind their hands. Maid Sylvie, the most outspoken of them, leaned in closer to Maid Marissa. "Do you think he's truly like the rumors say? He doesn't even seem to respond to his mother's touch."
Maid Marissa shook her head, her brow furrowed. "It's hard to tell. He's only a baby, after all. Babies don't show their emotions right away, do they?"
"Well, I don't know…" Sylvie replied, her voice low. "But he doesn't cry, doesn't smile. It's eerie."
The whispers continued as the maids observed the infant closely, waiting for any sign of emotion, any indication that this child could, in fact, be like other children. But none came. And in that silence, the judgment began.
At first, they thought it was a phase, perhaps something to be expected in the early days of infancy. But as the days went by, and the weeks stretched into months, the boy remained just as emotionless. His face was always neutral, and his behavior was mechanically calm. When his mother cradled him, there was no bond between them—no warmth, no feeling. His gaze never lingered for too long on anything or anyone.
Lord Kael, his father, was not one to speak of such things openly, but the way he looked at his son made it clear. He had hoped that his child, born into a noble family, would possess the strength of character to lead, to make decisions that would ensure the prosperity of their house. But he had heard the same rumors that plagued Lady Elara. The child was born without emotion, a boy who would never experience love, joy, or sorrow.
The child was a curse. Or so they said.
And though Lord Kael never openly expressed his disappointment, it showed in the distance between him and his son. Every time he passed the cradle, he looked away, his jaw tightening. He knew that this child, born without the capacity for affection, could not be the heir he had dreamed of.
As the months passed, the boy—now a toddler—remained the same. He did not cry when he fell, nor did he smile when he was praised. He was a blank slate, neither good nor bad. His actions were mechanical, as if he were simply going through the motions of life without ever truly living it. His tutors tried to engage him, to teach him the skills necessary to become a lord, but no matter how hard they tried, they could not break through his cold exterior.
One day, after another futile attempt at drawing any reaction from him, one of the maids spoke up. Sylvie, ever curious and now deeply unsettled by the boy's lack of emotion, dared to ask Lady Elara, "My lady, do you think something is wrong with him? He's not like other children. Shouldn't he at least be laughing, or showing some affection by now?"
Lady Elara looked at her, her eyes full of quiet sorrow. "I don't know, Sylvie. I wish I could say that he would grow into a normal child, that he would learn to love and laugh like the others. But I fear that his soul is too distant, too... cold. Maybe he is different, perhaps even broken."
The words struck a chord deep within Lady Elara. It was not something she wanted to accept, but the evidence was mounting before her. This child—her son—wasn't the son she had hoped for. He wasn't the heir she had dreamed of. Instead, he was a creature of indifference, a child who would never understand the warmth of a mother's embrace, who would never know the joy of family.
As for the boy, he paid no mind to the murmurs around him. He simply existed, untouched by the world's judgments. Emotions—those strange, uncontrollable things—meant nothing to him. He did not fear his parents' disappointment. He did not long for their affection. He was just there, a small presence in a world filled with noise, yet entirely detached from it all.
He was not a villain, nor was he a hero. He was simply a child without the capacity to feel.
And so, time went on.
Lady Elara continued to cradle him, speaking words of love and hope that fell on deaf ears. The maids continued to whisper among themselves, unsure of what to make of the boy's strange nature. And Lord Kael continued to look away, unable to even face the reality that his heir would never rise to the expectations he had placed on him.
But no one truly understood the boy—not his parents, not the maids, not even the world around him. His soul, now trapped in the form of a fragile child, had no need for love or hate, for happiness or sorrow. It simply existed.
Perhaps, in this strange new life, he had been given a chance to experience emotions. Perhaps, over time, something would change within him, and he would feel, just as others did. But for now, he remained a mystery—a blank slate in a world that demanded something more.
And the world watched, waited, and judged, unsure of what to make of him.