New world, new life

My consciousness stirs, dragging me back from a void of nothingness. It feels like resurfacing after being submerged underwater for too long, my senses sluggishly crawling back to life.

The first thing I notice is the warmth. It wraps around me, almost suffocating, like I’m being swaddled in a heavy blanket. Then comes the wetness—sticky and unpleasant, clinging to my skin like sweat after an intense fever. My whole body feels raw, oversensitive, like I’ve been scrubbed down with steel wool.

Something isn’t right.

I try to move, but my limbs respond sluggishly. They feel… wrong. Small. Weak. My fingers curl instinctively, but instead of the familiar grasp of an adult hand, I’m met with soft, pudgy little digits. What the hell? My fingers look like tiny sausages.

Panic flickers in my chest. I try to speak, to demand an explanation—what the hell is going on?!—but all that escapes my throat is a pathetic, garbled noise.

A baby’s cry.

Oh.

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

I blink rapidly, my vision hazy, blurred shapes swimming in and out of focus. But as my eyes gradually adjust, my surroundings become clearer—and they are far from ordinary.

I’m in a massive, opulent bedroom, unlike anything I’ve ever seen outside of movies or history books. The high ceiling is adorned with intricate golden patterns, the walls lined with rich, deep-colored tapestries that depict scenes I can’t quite make out. A grand chandelier hangs above, its crystal-like ornaments catching the warm glow of flickering candlelight.

To my right, a tall arched window lets in soft morning light, illuminating luxurious silk curtains that sway gently with the breeze. The furniture—ornate chairs, a carved wooden dresser, a marble vanity—is straight out of some Victorian-era noble’s estate. Everything screams wealth and status.

What… What kind of place is this?

And then, I see her.

A woman cradles me in her arms, her long, silver-white hair cascading down like threads of moonlight. Her delicate features are ethereal, almost unreal, with striking violet eyes brimming with emotion. She gazes at me with an expression so warm, so tender, that it takes me a moment to process it.

Is this… my mother?

She’s beautiful. Way too beautiful. Definitely not what I expected when I thought about getting reincarnated. I was bracing myself for some generic anime mom with a tragic backstory, but this? This is top-tier genetics. If I inherit even half of her looks, I’ll be unstoppable.

She’s speaking, her voice soft and trembling, but the words don’t make sense. The language is completely foreign, an elegant yet unfamiliar melody that flows effortlessly from her lips. Even though I can’t understand her, the emotion behind it is clear—relief, love, something fragile yet overwhelming.

She holds me close, her arms wrapping around me protectively, as if she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.

This should be touching. It should stir some deep, emotional awakening inside me.

But all I can think is—why is everything so damn loud?

Somewhere nearby, muffled voices chatter, and the faint sound of fabric rustling reaches my ears. But before I can process it, movement at the edge of my vision catches my attention.

A man stands near the doorway, dressed in elegant black robes, his presence sharp and imposing. Jet-black hair, cold blue eyes, and a neatly trimmed goatee—his entire demeanor radiates authority and detachment. His gaze locks onto mine for a fleeting second, and then—just like that—he turns on his heel and strides out of the room without a word.

No hesitation. No acknowledgment.

Cold. Distant. Not a single glance back.

Oh. That’s my father, isn’t it?

Wow. Guess some things really don’t change, no matter the world.

So this is reincarnation, huh?

Honestly, I expected something flashier. Maybe a goddess in a flowing dress, welcoming me with a divine prophecy. Or at the very least, a system interface popping up to tell me what my stats are.

Instead, I get a noblewoman holding me like I’m the most precious thing in the world… and a man who just walked out like I was a piece of inconvenient furniture.

And, to top it all off—I can’t understand a damn word anyone is saying.

Fantastic.

***

A whole year has passed since I arrived in this new world.

In that time, my body has finally gained enough strength to crawl—a godsend, really. Being able to move on my own is probably the greatest luxury of my infant existence so far. No longer trapped in one spot like a helpless slug, I’ve started to explore my surroundings. And what a place it is.

Turns out, I live in a mansion. A damn massive, white, three-story estate with a blue roof, nestled in the middle of sprawling, lush green plains. I discovered this little fact when my mother—Grilda, as I’ve learned—took me for a walk in the mansion’s garden.

And let me tell you, this isn’t just any garden. This is the kind of garden you only see in fantasy paintings. Vibrant, meticulously maintained flower beds, towering hedges trimmed to perfection, and a path that winds through the greenery like something out of a fairy tale. It’s peaceful, almost surreal in its beauty.

Whoever my parents are, they’re filthy rich.

I mean, the mansion alone was a dead giveaway, but what really confirmed it was the staff. Two maids run the household, and from what I’ve observed, they’re extremely competent. Their movements are precise, their work is flawless, and they carry themselves with the kind of efficiency that suggests they’re very well-paid. If my family can afford maids of this caliber, then yeah—we’re definitely part of the upper class.

Despite all this, life has been… dull.

I’ve been listening—a lot. Trying to pick up bits and pieces of the language my parents and the maids speak. It’s not easy. The pronunciation is a nightmare, and the structure is completely different from what I’m used to. But after months of eavesdropping, I’ve managed to grasp some basic words and phrases. It’s not much, but it’s something.

Still, my days are incredibly boring.

I wake up. Roll around on the marble floor. Get picked up. Roll around some more. Try to walk—fail. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

If I’m just a normal noble kid in this world too… then what was the point of this second life?

No goddess has appeared.

No mysterious voice has given me a divine mission.

No leveling system window has popped up in front of me.

At this point, I’m starting to think I got the worst possible version of reincarnation. Where’s my overpowered cheat skill? Where’s my protagonist treatment?

Instead, I get to be a baby in a fancy house with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling and drool.

…Yeah, this is going to be a long childhood.

***

I thought my reincarnated days were boring, but that changed one sunny morning as I crawled through the hallways of the mansion.

The marble floors beneath my hands were smooth and cool, a contrast to the warmth of the sunlight streaming in through the tall windows. Dust motes danced lazily in the golden light, giving the air a dreamlike quality. It would have been a peaceful scene—if not for the sudden swish of a mop in the distance.

Curious, I followed the rhythmic sound, my tiny hands and knees padding softly against the polished floor. As I turned the corner, I found her—Mara, one of the mansion’s maids.

She was a tall, elegant woman, her blonde hair neatly tied into a single bun, not a strand out of place. Thin, oval glasses rested on her sharp nose, accentuating the icy blue of her eyes, which always held a look of quiet authority. Unlike Lina, who was energetic and affectionate, Mara was disciplined, her every movement precise, as if she were performing a carefully rehearsed routine.

At first, I thought she was simply cleaning. A wooden bucket sat beside her, filled with water, and she held a mop in her gloved hands. But then, as I watched, she set the mop aside and lifted a single hand, her expression calm and composed.

Then, she spoke.

"From the heavens' grace and earth’s embrace, let pure waters flow—Aquapura."

The moment the words left her lips, something incredible happened.

A thin ribbon of water materialized out of thin air, hovering just above her palm. It shimmered in the sunlight, pure and clear, swirling gently as if awaiting her command. With a simple flick of her wrist, the water stretched out, spilling across the floor in a controlled wave, sweeping away the dust and dirt in its path.

I froze.

Magic.

This was actual magic.

I had suspected that something like this might exist in this world, but seeing it was completely different from just theorizing. This wasn’t some special effect from an anime or a game—this was real.

My tiny body tensed as I watched Mara continue her work with practiced ease. The water obeyed her command, moving precisely where she willed it before vanishing completely, leaving the floor spotless. No residue, no excess moisture—just clean, polished marble.

I wanted to scream. Not out of fear, but out of sheer excitement.

Mara finished the spell, lowering her hand as if nothing extraordinary had just happened. She adjusted her glasses, sighing softly to herself, then turned—and immediately spotted me sitting there, eyes wide as dinner plates.

For the first time in this new life, I felt genuine awe.

Mara tilted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “How did you get all the way over here, young master?”

I blinked. I had no way of answering, so I just continued to stare at her hand, half expecting more water to appear.

She let out a quiet sigh, shaking her head before gracefully kneeling down and scooping me up into her arms. “Curious little thing, aren’t you?” Her tone was neutral, but I could swear I saw the faintest hint of amusement in her eyes.

As she carried me back to my crib, I felt my mind racing with possibilities.

Magic was real. And if magic was real… then I had to learn how to use it.