CHAPTER 1 FRUSTRATIONS OF REBIRTH

  The room is dimly lit by a few flickering candles and the soft glow of a small hearth, casting shadows on the stone walls. Heavy wooden beams stretch across the ceiling, and the scent of burning tallow and herbs lingers in the air.

  The thick woolen blankets on the bed are slightly damp with sweat, and the faint metallic scent of blood is beginning to mix in.

  The woman in labor grips her husband’s calloused hand tightly, her nails digging into his skin with each contraction. Her face is flushed, strands of damp hair clinging to her forehead as she fights against the waves of pain rolling through her. Her breath comes in sharp, ragged gasps, and her body trembles from exertion.

  Her husband, a strong man who has faced the dangers of many adventures, looks more fragile now than ever before. His face is ghostly pale, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he watches his wife suffer.

  His grip on her hand is firm, but his other hand trembles slightly at his side, clenched into a fist as if trying to keep his fear at bay. He swallows hard, his throat dry, whispering reassurances that sound more for himself than for her.

  Beside them, the midwife—a woman with years of experience but never quite enough to erase the worry that comes with each birth—wipes her damp hands on her apron.

  She presses a hand to the laboring woman’s belly, her jaw tightening as she listens for every sign, every indication that the baby is positioned as it should be.

  Sweat trickles down the side of her face, and she murmurs encouragement while preparing clean linens and hot water.

  Outside the room, the sounds of hushed prayers and anxious footsteps echo faintly from neighbours and another person of the household waiting beyond the heavy wooden door.

  Inside, time stretches unbearably between each cry of pain, between each whispered plea, until the moment finally comes—one final, agonizing push.

  The midwife whispers, “That's it~ that's it… Just a little … Little bit more!” She faces a cross between anxiety and expectations, fear of failure and possibility-the death of a newborn.

  The woman in labour however, “Ahh~ Ahhh~ Ahhhh. Russell! … Will I be alright? Russell?” Her eyes were wet with tears and her eyes were slightly sunken inside. Her face is covered with snots and tears …

  Russell reassures his wife in labour, “It's … it's… it's … gonna be … fine! I know it. You just wait! Our child will be born alive and well! and it's gonna be healthy!” His face was one of absolute inexperience. It's their first child and while he may have heard about how scared everyone was when he was born. Now that he is experiencing it … it's like his whole soul is balancing a crushing weight which is …. Honestly too much for him to witness his wife in such distress.

  As the time ruthlessly marches forward, all three with different priorities in feelings unitedly stops doing what they are doing, as the baby is born and finally sees the light of day.

  Russell and his wife are too exhausted to do anything but stand still frozen like a rock. But out of them both, Russell recovers first and he gently embraces his first born son in his arms. Tears uncontrollably flows through from his eyes like there's no end to it.

  Russell cries out in happiness, “Look! Vanilla~ This is our son! … He was born healthy.” As he was practically jumping in joy. Suddenly, “Look~ Our son's first hearty cry! He is … He is our son!” Russell was clearly having an emotional moment here. Hearing his enthusiasm, vanilla through clearly exhausted, gives a gentle warm smile.

  The midwife was feeling hungry. She can't bear to witness this anymore. With her hunger taking over, she slowly exits the room and eats dinner in the kitchen. She was even nice enough to close the door, unusually slowly to make sure nothing interrupts them.

  ◇ ◇ ◇

  When he opened his eyes, the first thing Orzic saw was dazzling light. It grew to encompass his entire field of vision, and he squinted in discomfort.

  Once his vision adjusted, he became aware of the young lady gazing at him from a far. His first thoughts were ‘She was one gorgeous girl—wait, no. That's unrelated but she is definitely a woman.’

  Who are these people?

  He was being holded by a impressive looking person. He looked strong, proud, and impressively muscled. They eyes locked and the guy smiles at him.

  He raises his hands but they seems smaller. The way his body moves is relatively more sluggish compared to how he remembered.

  Is this for real? … This is almost similar to …

  His thoughts were frozen midway as the reality crashes on him, his mind racing, logic clawing desperately at the impossible truth before him. Every fiber of his being screams that this cannot be—reincarnation is irrational, unscientific, a fantasy. And yet, the memories are there, vivid and undeniable, flooding his consciousness with emotions and experiences that shouldn't be there… yet somehow are. His breath quickens as he stares at his people around him, searching for an explanation, a loophole, something that makes sense. But there is none. The weight of the impossible settles in, and for the first time in his life, reason fails him.

  Am I reincarnated in another world!!!!!!!

  His resolve crumbled as he brain shuts down immediately after his birth.

  ◇ ◇ ◇

  Following that few months passes heavily. Vanilla was recovering from her labour time and Russell pushed himself too far to earn some cash.

  Feeling uncomfortable where she moves after that, she started doing needle works as a hobby. She used to do that before… sure but now it's kinda different like it's an actual hobby.

  Moving on, The baby which they both have decided to name Unicus is sleeping peacefully. Vanilla however has few thoughts on the past few days which she has found to be utterly baffling. She is a full functional housewife, she has friends in the form of neighbours and what she told them kinda shocked em a little.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “Whenever, the little boy is sleeping. He looks like a good normal kid. Yet …” Her face darkens under the sunlight coming through the window.

  Her face shows an expression of anxiety… She is worried whether her kid will have a good life. The reason? Because her son has yet to call her mother even though it's been a year already. It worries her, since she is a housewife she spends far too much time worrying about her son.

  “Will this work out like I believe it might? Or … will it not?” she is basically clutching her head in thoughts. She is trying to be considerate but this is just reckoning her.

  As she was quietly contemplating about her son, another person entered the room. Her gaze slowly shifted towards the door and landed on their in-home maid.

  A lively young woman with golden-brown curls cascading down her back, partially held in a braided crown with a flower as a stand-in hairclip, wears this elegant dirndl with effortless charm. Her emerald-green eyes gleam with mischief as she adjusts the black ribbon lacing across her bodice. The white puffed sleeves frame her slender arms, while the rich forest green and peach tones of her dress contrast beautifully against her fair skin.

  Beneath the flowing skirt, a daring touch peeks through—fishnet tights hugging her toned thighs, adding an unexpected edge to her otherwise traditional attire. Delicate red rose embroidery sways with her movements, and she carries a woven basket filled with fresh bread and wildflowers.

  With a worried expression she asks, “I have just arrived Vanilla? Won't you welcome me?” She takes a moment to study vanilla’s expressions and puts together an image of what could be the cause of her anguish.

  Vanilla is obviously not expecting her return at the moment she fumbles in response, “Well … Good work! I guess… Mellona.”

  “Is something wrong, vanilla?” She puts the basket down and sits beside her. “Please talk to me. Anything~ I'll do my best to help you in my own way.”

  To Mellona’s confusion Vanilla says, “I … I don't know. I'm not sure yet. But Unicus might not be normal after all? I don't know yet” Vanilla is like having a whole mental breakdown.

  “Slow down~ Take a deep breath. Now tell me one by one” Asks Mellona with determination to help Vanilla.

  “Okay. I'll go from the start. It's ….” Vanilla starts explaining why she is feeling this way.

  ◇ ◇ ◇

  Let's change perspective and look at what Unicus has been doing so far. He was laying on a baby bed. It wasn't exactly oozing modern comfort but he had no say in the matter.

  How did this happen? What am I? A scientist now reborn in a place without the influence of science.

  Unicus was almost clutching his head in his hands. He was supposed to be a child yet looking at him no one would think that.

  His gaze was locked onto the ceiling as if he was gazing at something very far away yet which is not present.

  I was one of the leading researchers in the field of applied science. Now … How will I continue my research? It's been a year even so the NSF Graduate Research Fellowship feels like it had just happened yesterday. It's burned in my eyes. Yet …

  His expression is a cross between regret and longing. Reaching that place while at the age of 24 wasn't easy for him. He had to cast aside everything for the express purpose of research.

  His family … His friends … His girlfriend… He lost everything in the pursuit of his wet dream yet … He is feeling regret because it ultimately went nowhere significant.

  For the past year Unicus has only been just existing. He cried when he was hungry and broke down in tears when the overwhelming regret came bubbling up to the surface of his mind. Will his life so far can be called fulfilling? That's up for debate~ Yet Unicus didn't even bother to learn anything significant in the past year … He was existing with his regrets.

  I have never considered… the possibility of losing my life's work … I could never ever go back now. My life as a research scientist in the weather prediction field has come to a regrettable end. I … I …

  He shifts around laying in his baby bed. His gaze slowly turns towards his palms.

  I should have been dead…. Being dead sucks sure but I don't have to live on with so many regrets. Why? Who decided that I should be reincarnated! Who! Damn it!!!!

  Even after the passing of twelve months, he has yet to move on from his past life. It clings to him like a snake coiling around its prey trying to corner it in real time.

  Unicus's breakdown was getting spied on, by both Mellona and Vanilla. They were both standing behind the door with ones head over the other's quietly watching Unicus's subtle weight of reactions.

  Vanilla mutters almost in a whisper, “Do you know what my worries are … Mellona. Just what kind of kid have I given birth to….” She was clearly not enjoying this. Her expression was one of agony.

  Mellona however looks utterly baffled by the sudden turn of events, “From the day I've born … I've witnessed countless new born babies along the way yet … Your son is the most mysterious and utterly inexplicable kid I've laid my eyes on. Congratulations I guess?” Her head was already spinning like a wheel on overdrive.

  Now this too, no one in their right mind will expect anything like Unicus's expression from a one year old kid. Mellona could only explain this in the simplest and terrifying way ‘From the day he was born. Unicus was nothing but an utter anomaly’

  Vanilla asks dubiously, “Do you think some spirit is possessing Unicus? … Do you believe calling a professional shamon might do the trick?”

  Mellona didn't know how to reply to that, “Are you crazy? Unicus is just a year old and let's not forget the fact he is a newborn. Yet That expression does not clearly belong to a newborn … I believe we should wait and see what's really happening. For now let's watch over him” She concluded with that and walked away.

  Vanilla was shivering at the thought of Unicus might be some kind of monster. “Mellona! … Wait for me.” She ran up to her.

  ◇ ◇ ◇

  Russell, who just came back after having a quick bath. He dries his hair with a towel and notices something a bit unusual.

  “What's wrong Vanilla why is Unicus reacting like that? Don't tell me you were strict with him?” He asks, chuckling to himself. His expression was one of teasing and he did just that.

  Vanilla was obviously irritated, replies back angry, “Come on, you know what kind of person I am. Stop making this a new thing.”

  Russell apologized, “Sorry sorry.” Then asks, “then why does he always spend more time with Mellona and me when you are here? I thought children loved their mothers way more than father's, was I wrong?” Russell questions his years of experience hoping to get an answer.

  Vanilla clicks her tongue, “Tsk. Do you have to rub it in! Come on Russell, the least you can do is help you know. I have no clue why he might do that?” She asks for Russell's help.

  Russell thinks for a moment before striking his palms together, “I get it.” Then he reveals his deduction of a likely answer, “It's cause you are heavy. Yes … that should be it~” his expression was totally serious.

  Russell's choice of words however enraged Vanilla who was till now silently suffering, “Come on you know that's not true. I'm definitely not heavy, in fact I'm very light. Yes~ light as a feather … that's it.” Her expression is a cross between anxiety, stress and confusion.

  Russell tries to correct himself, “That's not what I've meant.” His calm response makes her grasp in return.

  “Then what the hell did you mean? Are you trying to make fun of me? Russell!!” Vanilla just lost her patience.

  Russell clears his throat, “I mean you. Your love is heavier than you realise. Even I find myself overwhelmed, so Unicus being a child he might feel the same too.” He declares with determination, “After all men are all like that!” With his palms curving in on itself and his arms raised.

  Vanilla had enough at this point, she jumps on the bed and covers herself in the blanket. “So is it my fault after all?” She sighs with exhaustion, “Being a mother is so tough.”

  ◇ ◇ ◇

  Unicus, barely a year old, sat on the dinner table, his tiny legs dangling over the edge as he observed his mother with wide, dead fish, like eyes.

  The warm glow of the kitchen light bathed everything in a golden hue, casting soft shadows that flickered with her every movement. He could hear the gentle clinking of metal against porcelain, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables, and the occasional hiss of steam escaping from a simmering pot.

  His mother, dressed in a simple, cozy sweater, hummed a quiet tune as she worked, her hands moving with practiced grace.

  The scent of something savory filled the air, wrapping around him like an invisible embrace. His little fingers pressed against the wooden surface of the table, feeling its cool texture as he watched, bored but hungry.

  Every so often, she would glance his way, her lips curling into a soft smile (almost) that made his tiny heart flutter with a deep sinking emotion he didn't yet understand.

  All he knew was that her presence was making him experience inexplicable feelings, her voice was far from comfortable like she has a gripping fear binding her?, and the sight of her moving about the kitchen was the only kind of thing close to entertainment in his little world.

  Beside his mother another woman was also working hard. She was their live-in maid, Mellona. She helps with all kinds of household work like cleaning, washing, even cooking. Yet the food made by both of them is always distinct like the taste gives away who cooked it.

  Vanilla was visibly nervous, “Hey Mellona, what am I supposed to do? He's watching us” her voice was low as if whispering.

  Mellona wasn't concerned yet, “Even if a bit unusual, He is still your child so… I don't think you have anything to be concerned about~” she was trying to act playful but it's kind of showing in their attitude.

  Vanilla was distracted by her child's nearby presence, “Oops~ I cut my finger…” Her hands were slightly damp with the water due to washing vessels.

  Mellona looks unconcerned, “Aren't you a good healer? Just heal it quickly and get back to work. We have so much to do … we have to finish cooking as fast as possible~” Her expression of indifference was irritating to vanilla but didn't voice her opinion.

  Vanilla, feeling a bit dejected, mutters the incantation for the basic healing spell,

  "By light and thread, flesh restore,

  Seal the cut, let pain be no more."

  A faint greenish glow surrounds the wound as the skin knits itself back together, leaving no trace of injury.

  Mellona offers Vanilla a gentle smile to soothe her worries, “Okay, shall we start by putting Unicus to sleep” Vanilla and Mellona move on to the next task. Vanilla, who is still feeling a bit shaken, cradles Unicus to the next location.

  ◇ ◇ ◇

  As Unicus was being cradled in Vanilla's arms only one thing was running laps around his mind.

  What the heck was that?

  A spark flickered in the void of his mind. It was small, fragile, but unmistakably real. Suddenly, like the first cracks in a frozen lake, thoughts began to ripple outward. Sensations sharpened—he felt the texture of his mother's embrace around him, the weight of his own body against his mother. The muffled voices around him became clearer, their words taking shape in his head. His heart thumped against his tiny ribs, the first real beat of awareness he had felt in this world.

  He inhaled sharply.

  The fog that had bound him for so long began to lift, revealing a world he had ignored—a world he had refused to acknowledge. His fingers twitched, grasping at something unseen. His lips parted, but no words came, only a shaky exhale. For the first time since his rebirth, he truly felt. A shiver ran down his spine, not from fear, but from the overwhelming realization—he was alive.

  I thought it was supposed to be a medieval world. But what I've just witnessed contradicts every information I've gathered till now. This can't be ….