'I've been reborn in a new body… '
No matter how much the boy thought about it, he still couldn't grasp how it was even possible. Maybe it had something to do with those horns? Either way, now he was in a new body.
The name the woman gave him—Luch—felt bizarre. Even stranger was his body.
His constant dreams and uncontrollable bodily functions made him doubt himself.
But what troubled him more was where he was. At least, his understanding of the situation grew along with his body.
---
Six months had passed since his birth.
The baby sat near a pile of toys in a room decorated like a nursery. He was separated from the rest of the room by what looked like a toy fence—soft, multicolored, seemingly playful. In truth, it was a solid iron gate wrapped in cloth.
"Commander of the Fluffy Dead Division, Sir Rodriguez—report the situation."
Luch grabbed the paw of a rabbit plushie, one nearly the same size as him, and posed it as if it were saluting.
"Yes, sir! Big sister Effia will be back in two hours—she's at her usual training! The older brothers are gone—they left for the hunt yesterday. Mother… unknown. But chances are she's on the first floor, cooking dinner in the kitchen!"
Luch let go of Rodriguez's paw and scratched his chin.
"Hmm. What about the other sisters? Have they arrived?"
"Negative, sir! Not yet due!"
Luch smiled.
"Then it's time to carry out the plan."
With his inner dialogue done, the baby crawled to a messy corner where the toys were scattered. Once he reached his target, he widened the seam of an elephant plush and pulled out a paperclip.
'You were one of the best cadets.'
He gave a silent salute and crawled toward the gate. The gate that blocked his path, clipped his wings—the wings with which he wanted to explore the skies. At least, that's how he saw it.
This was the hard part. The gate had a lock, and it was far too high for him to reach. He couldn't build a tower out of his toys—they were too soft, too yielding, like quicksand. He'd once thought he'd met his end because of them.
The solution he came up with was both difficult and promising:
Stand.
He had learned to crawl—probably earlier than all those so-called genius babies. At least, that's what he believed. Now, it was time for the day of legs. The day he stood up should've been a holiday, marked with celebration and cheers for his first steps. That's how it was in his old life. Why did effort feel so underappreciated now?
He sat with his knees pulled close, then got onto all fours. Gripping the bars, he waited until his thoughts aligned.
A push.
If he had teeth, he would've gritted them. Every ounce of strength in his arms and legs went into lifting himself up. The trouble was—he couldn't feel that strength. He strained, trying to use every bit of muscle awareness to raise himself.
He fell. Smacked his head on the soft rug.
"E'sh jush'sh sho imposs'ble…"
Propping himself up on his hands, he tried again. Same pose, same effort, same fall.
After several attempts, he lay defeated on the rug. He felt like bursting into tears—everything was getting on his nerves. That rug with the cartoon dog, its white fur covered in black spots—it disgusted him. That gate felt like a wall between heaven and earth. And his comrades? Just watching their general suffer!
'Traitors. The lot of them.'
That's when he heard it.
Footsteps. Approaching.
Panic. He had to hide the paperclip—if someone saw, they'd start asking questions. He wasn't ready to reveal his adult mind trapped in a baby's body. That kind of edge was too valuable.
Quickly, he grabbed the paperclip and crawled back to Rodriguez. The footsteps were closer now. He tucked the clip beneath the plushie's rear and set him back into place.
The door opened.
A young blonde girl with curly hair entered, wearing a plain, faded yellow dress. Effia. The most refined girl Luch had met so far.
"Luch? Where's our little angel? Come here."
'What kind of nickname is that…'
She walked over to the gate and unlocked it with a key from the bedside table. Kneeling at the opening, she spread her arms.
Luch made a face.
Effia smirked at his strange expression.
"You always make that sour face when we talk to you sweetly—like you bit into a lemon."
'What are you even doing here? Weren't you supposed to be training?'
Frustration burned inside the little boy, but in the end, he crawled toward her and into her embrace.
"Uncle's visiting today—do you remember him?"
'That terrifying guy? How could I forget. I'm sure just looking at him would make any child cry.'
Effia led the way downstairs. The house was a proper mansion—three stories tall, countless rooms on every floor. As they entered the guest lounge, two sofas stood opposite each other with a glass table between them, a fireplace flickering quietly in the back. Their mother and the uncle were already seated.
"Ooh, the young princess graces us! How are training and studies going, dear Effia?"
The pale man greeted her with slicked-back black hair streaked with grey. He wore a black suit, a monocle perched on one eye—he was one hat away from looking like a caricature of nobility.
"Everything's fine. And stop calling me that! I'm not a little girl anymore."
Effia shot him a quick glare and sat down beside their mother.
"And our little Luchi—already awake from your nap?"
They set Luch beside his mother. Effia took a seat next to him.
'What am I even supposed to say? When do babies start talking anyway?'
Luch stayed silent, feigning confusion, and turned his attention to the room around them. The décor was overwhelming—far more extravagant than anything he'd seen in his previous life. As he took it in, he noticed Uncle Hin watching him too intently.
'What's with that stare? I really don't like it.'
There was something in Hin's gaze that made Luch uneasy. Familiar, yet foreign. Then came the smell.
"Excuse me," Effia said quickly, "I'll take him to the maids to change his diaper."
She was about to lift Luch when Hin's voice stopped her.
"No need. Let this serve as direct evidence for our little debate, Miss Meiri."
Tension hit the room like a dropped blade. Mother's expression darkened just slightly.
"You see, Miss Meiri, in His Majesty's house, this sort of thing is unacceptable. The fact that he hasn't undergone standard early conditioning—because of your influence—raises real concerns. It challenges everything we've built our philosophy on."
Hin crossed his legs, settling in with practiced arrogance. Meiri opened her mouth to speak, but he continued without pause.
"I'll be clear. You're insulting the legacy of our kingdom. And sooner or later, His Majesty will have to acknowledge that. After all, he always favored purity in—"
"Enough, Mister Hin. Leave this house."
The command hit like iron. Hin's face twitched—part rage, part disbelief.
"What?! You should remember your place—and what you were meant to be!"
The air turned sharp. Mother gave Effia a quiet instruction—get the child out.
"Don't walk away from me! Effia, where do you think you're taking him?!"
Hin's voice boomed behind them, but Luch barely heard it now. He'd already started to understand.
This wasn't about diapers or disrespect. This was about something older, colder. About the way things should be, according to men like Hin.
He had gathered bits and pieces in the last few months. His mother was one of the consorts. All the children here—Effia included—were born of them. In this household, in this culture, there was a certain… tension around that. Even when someone was favored, it didn't mean they were respected.
Training started young for the others—some strict, harsh regimen he hadn't yet experienced himself. Mentions of it were always vague, almost forbidden. But he knew it lasted for years, and it wasn't gentle. Effia had once come home bleeding.
'So why haven't they thrown me into it yet?'
He shook the thought off, listening as the voices behind them rose again.
"How about some fresh air?" Effia said with a calm smile, adjusting him gently. "Right after we get you cleaned up."
Luch looked up at her.
'That smile... why does it remind me of her?'