Chapter 1: Being a Baby is...

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.

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