PROLOGUE

The blue sky.
It always looked so far away.

I watched it from behind a window, day after day.
Birds soared in the breeze.
I used to imagine what it felt like—the wind against my face, the weightlessness, the warmth of the sun on my back.

They were free.
I was not.

I was ten when the symptoms started.

At first, it was just fatigue and a few clumsy steps.
Then came the dizziness.
The fainting spells.
The hospital visits.

Until one day, I realized I hadn’t stepped outside in eight years.

Every day is the same.
Sterile sheets.
Monitors beeping steadily beside me.
White ceilings with flickering fluorescent lights.
And the aching silence between doctor visits.

My body had become a cage.
A prison I couldn’t escape.

My muscles weakened.
My bones thinned.
Some days, I couldn’t even sit up without help.

I forgot what it felt like to run.
To walk.
To stand.

But I wasn’t completely alone.

My parents, no matter how tired they were inside, kept showing up with smiles

And along with them came books.

Fantasy novels.
Manga.
Light novels

Through those stories, I lived.

I was obsessed with fantasy.
So I started writing my own spell systems, inventing lore, myths, and magical theories in a notebook.
I even tried to combine physics and magic—just to see if it could make sense.

It became my secret world.

My reason to keep going.

But time wasn’t kind.

My body continued to fade.
The nurses grew quieter.
The doctors were more careful with their words.

And my parents...
They tried to keep smiling, but their eyes said everything.

That night, my mother and I had just read one of my favorite books—
A story about a cursed knight who perseveres through dreams and friendship in a world full of hatred and violence.

She kissed my forehead, tucked the blanket around me, and whispered.

“Sweet dreams, Sora.”

I smiled back.
“Goodnight, Mom.”

That night, my chest felt heavy.
My breathing turned shallow.

I heard the machines beeping faster and louder.

I saw the alarm in the nurse’s face as she rushed in, calling for help.
My parents were shouting my name.
My father gripped my hand tightly.

But I couldn’t respond.
My vision blurred.
I wanted to say something.

To tell them thank you.
To apologize for being so helpless.
For making them cry.

But the words never came.

Everything dimmed.
Then...

Everything went dark.

When I opened my eyes again—
The first thing I felt was light.

Blinding. Warm. Overwhelming.

It wasn’t the harsh glare of a hospital room.
This light was golden, soft—almost alive.

I winced and turned my head instinctively.
The brightness stung my barely opened eyes.

Slowly, the glow faded.
My vision began to clear.

That’s when I saw them.

Five women stood around me.

Dressed in ornate black-and-white uniforms—frilly dresses, aprons, and headpieces.

One had dark skin and long pointed ears.
Others looked human.
Some had animal ears.

(What… the—?)

They were speaking, but I couldn’t understand a word.

The sounds were muffled and distant, like listening through a wall of water.

I tried to respond.
My throat strained.

“Ah… ah—”

What came out was barely a breath.
A whimper? A groan? A sigh?
I couldn’t tell.

My body felt strange.
Not painful—just... numb.

No strength in my arms or legs.
No control over my movements.

Then I felt it.
A tingling in my fingers.
A twitch in my wrist.

I focused everything into one movement—
And barely lifted my hand.

What I saw froze me.

A tiny, pudgy, soft hand.
A baby’s hand.

My eyes widened.

Confusion.
Disbelief.

This couldn’t be real.

And yet—
There it was.

I had been reincarnated.