In the dimness of the night, the figure of a man wandered through the city streets. His shadow, elongated by the faint glow of the streetlights, was a reflection of the darkness that had invaded his soul. His steps were slow and heavy, as if each one of them carried the weight of a life he no longer wished to bear. Resignation had ensnared him like an invisible noose that ruthlessly strangled him.

Life had stolen his dreams, hopes, and desires. He felt like a castaway in an ocean of despair, struggling to stay afloat in a sea of desolation. Words of encouragement, gestures of affection, and missed opportunities had lost their meaning for him. He had given up on everything, even on himself. The darkness that enveloped him was his only company, his refuge, and his curse.

As he aimlessly walked, his mind was filled with an internal monologue, an incessant discourse of self-condemnation and self-pity. "Why go on?" he thought over and over. "What is the point of this senseless life?" His thoughts were like an endless echo, a litany that repeated the same words ceaselessly. Each day, he woke up with the heavy burden of existence on his shoulders, and each night, he lay down with the hope that, when he awoke the next day, the world would have forgotten him.

The night was cold and silent, as if the entire universe was in tune with his despair. He had no destination in mind, no place he wanted to go. He simply walked, dragging his feet as if they were shackles that kept him a prisoner of his own melancholy. The city was deserted; its inhabitants were sleeping in their warm beds, oblivious to the agony consuming him.

But then, in the midst of the darkness, a sound broke the monotony of his internal monologue. The noise of an engine revving, tires screeching on the asphalt, and the dull impact of metal against flesh and bone. The world seemed to pause for a moment. Pain, sharp and piercing, seized his body. He had been hit by a car.

As he lay on the ground, the warmth of the blood oozing from his wounds was the only sensation he could perceive. The life he had given up on had other plans for him. Death, which seemed to be his only friend in those dark moments, had eluded him once more.

The car's driver, worried and frightened, stepped out of the vehicle to check on his condition. As he listened to the confused voices of the bystanders who had gathered around, the despondent man gazed at the starry sky. It was ironic, he thought, that at the moment he had decided to stop fighting, life had listened to him... as it had never done in his entire life.

But what happened next left him breathless. As the light of the stars faded and consciousness waned, he had the strange sensation of floating in the air, as if his body had become ethereal. The world around him dissolved into a mist of darkness and confusion.

And then, in an instant that felt like an eternity, he found himself in the arms of an unknown woman. He was completely disoriented, unable to comprehend what was happening. The woman who held him with tenderness and affection looked at him with warm and compassionate eyes. It was as if all his suffering, all his sorrows and burdens, vanished in a single moment in the embrace of that mysterious woman.

The man looked around and realized he was in a completely different place. He was no longer in the city or the cold night. He was in a cozy, rustic, medieval-style house.

But most astonishing of all was when he looked down and realized he wasn't the aged and despondent man he had been moments earlier. In his arms, he was now a helpless baby, with eyes that reflected purity and innocence. He couldn't understand what was happening, but the feeling of rebirth and hope overwhelmed him completely.

The unknown woman looked at him with a smile and whispered words he couldn't comprehend. As the baby clung to his new beginning, the man understood that life was giving him a second chance, an opportunity to start anew, to rediscover the meaning of existence, to find the happiness he had longed for.

In that moment, in the arms of the unknown woman, the depressed and resigned man understood that he had been rescued from his own darkness. Life, in its mysterious wisdom, had offered him a chance he had lost hope of ever finding. The story of his rebirth was just beginning, and it was imbued with profound and transcendental meaning.

I SEEK PEACE.

Arc 1: Childhood Journey

One month had passed since my reincarnation into a medieval fantasy world. Initially, I rejected the fact that this was real. I tried to deny it with all my might, closing my eyes to the reality around me. But the truth was inescapable: I had been reborn as a baby.

As time went on, my denial became futile. No matter how much I wished it were an illusion or a dream, I couldn't change the fact that my previous life had faded away, and now I was a helpless infant in this new and unfamiliar world.

At first, my memories of my past life were vivid. I remembered every detail, every experience, every mistake I had made. But as the days passed, those memories began to fade. Not all at once, but gradually, as if they were being erased from my mind.

I still retained some general knowledge, like math skills and trivial facts, but the details of my previous life were fading. I couldn't remember who I was in my past life, what my family was like, or the significant moments we had shared.

However, there were certain aspects that refused to disappear. My deepest regrets remained intact. I remembered how I had died with the weight of regrets, having never made my parents proud even once. These memories, my regrets, were immutable. I knew I would never forget them. But everything else was slowly fading.

Even though I wasn't a religious person, I realized that somehow, I retained the awareness that I had a past life. I didn't consider myself special at all; my past life was proof of that. What I did know was that I had a second chance at life. I encouraged myself to enjoy this new opportunity, to live as a child again in this medieval fantasy world.

"So, live," I told myself over and over. "I can make amends for everything." But no matter how hard I tried, I simply couldn't.

1

As much as I tried to be a normal baby, to live in the present and forget my past, I couldn't achieve it. Despite the circumstances, my thoughts continued to torment me, and I couldn't free myself from the burden of my previous memories.

The days in that place were so routine that they seemed to blur into monotony. Life revolved around activities I'd rather not mention, like the unforgettable lunch that still haunted my memories. Time seemed to fade away in long, endless naps, offering a brief escape from the tedious reality that surrounded us.

My family, in that dark corner of the world, consisted only of my mother and me. My mother was, objectively speaking, a beautiful woman. Her dark brown hair framed her face, and her blue eyes were as dazzling as the sky on a sunny day.

What made the situation even more remarkable was the complete absence of my father. For a whole month, I never had the chance to see him even for a single second. This led me to consider several possibilities. Additionally, my mother seemed to have a slight addiction to alcohol, which allowed me to deduce that...

He's either dead or he abandoned us.

My mind was immersed in a strange situation that seemed to transport me to a distant past. My mother's attire made me think more of a Renaissance fair or a cosplay convention than modern clothing. The house I was in, or at least what I could glimpse while being held in her arms, seemed like a typical rustic wooden construction, like those I had seen in period films or in some strange anime like Re:Zero or Konosuba.

In the midst of this peculiar situation, what made everything even more peculiar was the language spoken by everyone around me. It had a tone that sounded like a distorted version of some Asian language, with a strange nuance that defied my comprehension.

However, what overwhelmed me the most at that moment was boredom. I began to wonder if that was the reason behind the constant crying of babies. My body, practically immobile, resembled more that of a plant than a human being. I felt utterly powerless and bored.

This feeling of tedium led me to a peculiar pastime: meditation. For the following month, I dedicated myself almost exclusively to this practice, immersing myself in a state of deep reflection. It was then that I noticed a change, something subtle but significant. I experienced a faint circulation, something that could be mistaken for the beating of my heart but was not actually that. It was as if I had discovered a spark within me.

2

As another month passed, I began to have a tentative understanding of the language spoken around me. Words began to acquire meaning, and although I couldn't articulate them properly, I could at least distinguish some familiar phrases. However, my frustration increased as I noticed that the muscles in my mouth were not yet developed enough for me to speak clearly. My attempts at communication resulted in unintelligible sounds, which often elicited some laughter from my mother.

It's worth noting that my new name is Lyndor, or Lyn as my mother always calls me. Strange... BUT I LIKE IT.

Every day was a new challenge, a constant effort to improve my ability to communicate with those around me. My mind was full of thoughts and emotions, but I felt constrained by the limitations of my own body. The helplessness I experienced was frustrating, but it also motivated me to try harder.

As the months went by, I not only continued my efforts to understand and communicate in this new world, but I also made new discoveries. One of them was that the more I focused on that spark of understanding, the easier it became to access it again, as if I were learning to whistle, allowing me to access it more quickly and efficiently over time.

However, as I moved into the fourth month, I noticed something else. My mother began to disappear on a recurring basis, leaving me alone in my crib. This struck me as incredibly irresponsible, although I could understand that being a single mother in what appeared to be a time similar to the Middle Ages or Romantic era, she had other responsibilities. Given that I behaved ideally, never disturbed her during the night, and never even cried once, perhaps my mother took for granted that I didn't require much attention.

Approximately half a year had passed since I was reborn, and I had already regained some of my mobility, although it was merely sitting and crawling a bit. However, when I learned to crawl perfectly, I turned into a hyperactive beast. This was likely due to the six full months I had spent doing absolutely nothing.

It's worth noting that my mother's presence in my life was becoming increasingly limited; I only saw her during meals, which occurred only at noon and in the evening. Furthermore, her health seemed to deteriorate significantly, with visible dark circles under her eyes at all times. But one day, everything changed abruptly and dramatically.

It was early in the morning, and my mother was in the kitchen preparing something for herself. At that moment, we heard light knocks on the door of the house. I was in the middle of my meditation process, but apparently, that was irrelevant at the moment. Without warning, my mother took me into her arms with care and affection, breaking my concentration.

She opened the door and continued to hold me tightly, visibly trembling. Some tears fell onto my head as she held me, and in that instant, I knew that something important and emotional was happening. The situation felt intense and confusing, and although I didn't fully understand what was going on,

I was sure it would mark a significant change in our lives.