Chapter 1: The Infant Awakens

‘I am an infant.’

My name… might exist, but I don’t know it yet.

Somehow, suddenly, that string of words flashed through my mind.

‘That’s way too sudden, seriously.’

Is that an inner retort? 

I’m not sure, but another line followed right after.

‘What the heck is this?’

All I could do was feel confused and bewildered.

After all, I still couldn’t grasp my current situation.

It was like I had just spent a long time slowly coming to full consciousness.

And yet, just as I should have naturally shifted to recognizing my surroundings, something else took over my mind instead—something else that came first, you could say.

That something else—if I use the word that came to me honestly—seemed to be some sort of “memory.”  

But not just any memory. 

It felt detached from the reality I was currently in, marked somewhere with a flashing red note.

‘What on earth is going on?’

I threw another inner retort and thought for a moment.

After some thought, I decided to put that “memory” aside for now.

If it’s that disconnected from reality, I should prioritize understanding my actual situation, which I haven’t fully grasped yet.

I tried moving my body.

My arms and legs moved. 

But somehow, it felt awkward.

My bare feet squished and rubbed against what seemed like a rough cloth.

My hands, lifted with a strange awkwardness—

‘Yeah, they’re small.’

I saw them vaguely and remembered the inner voice from earlier.

‘I am an infant.’

So, that’s what it meant.

Apparently, I am here right now as an infant.

I nodded, at least for now.

No, a normal infant wouldn’t have such calm self-awareness, right?

I thought I heard a whisper somewhere.

Even if someone said that, there was nothing I could do.

My mind, along with that baffling “memory,” was working in an oddly composed way.

At the same time, the unmistakable hands before me only matched the external form of an infant according to that “memory.”

In other words, my current state:

I look like an infant.

But my thoughts are impossible for an infant.

That’s it.

‘Is that really okay?’

Again, I thought I heard a dissenting voice from somewhere.

Still, even if I was told that, I couldn’t do anything about it.

There was a huge sense of unease, but I had no choice but to accept it as reality.

At this point, I figured the only way forward was to observe my surroundings and deepen my understanding.

But for now, my body moved only with great awkwardness.

Judging by that “memory,” I should still be unable to roll over.

From the fact that I could barely turn my head side to side, I seemed to be in the stage between “neck control” and “rolling over” in infant development.

My vision was blurry, barely able to make out shapes.

That should be natural for a newborn infant.

Considering that, it seemed pointless to panic and struggle.

I just had to slowly continue recognizing my situation.

As I thought this, I suddenly felt a wet, uncomfortable sensation in my lower body.

“Funya, funyaa.”

Almost by reflex, a pitiful little sound escaped my mouth.

After a short pause—

“××××”

A strangely childish voice approached from somewhere.

I couldn’t know the true feelings behind it, but it sounded very flustered.

If I tried to imagine and translate the voice, it was something like: “Yes, yes, yes, yes, right now—”

It was almost like someone talking to themselves.

An older person might scold them with: “One ‘yes’ is enough!”

‘No, it’s pointless to build a gag by imagining the situation on my own…’

I composed myself and looked again.

Through my blurry vision, I recognized that it was a much smaller girl.

The “memory” told me she was somewhere between a young girl and a girl.

Though flustered, she stretched her small hands toward me on the bed, trying her best.

Two other things became clear:

The voice I heard made no sense in the language of the “memory.”

And the girl’s appearance and clothing, as far as I could make out, were completely different from anything familiar in the “memory.”

Words like “Western,” “Medieval,” and “Maid?” crossed my mind.

In other words, her appearance should be described with terms like those.

But the “memory” itself was disorganized and unclear, so I couldn’t reach a definite conclusion.

Soon after, the girl tended to me.

Compared to the “memory,” I had no choice but to endure an unbearable embarrassment.

At the same time, I learned for the first time that I was a boy.

‘Yeah. I guess that’s important information.’

Since I’m a boy, I suppose using “I” as my first-person pronoun is fine.

With that, and the determination to slowly continue understanding my situation, I decided to spend some time observing my surroundings.