Hello, it's me, Hiyuki. How do I know that? Because my mother kept calling me that while playing with my cheeks. Doesn’t that name sound feminine? Am I a girl?

I don’t know, since the neck of a two-day-old baby isn’t strong enough to confirm it, and besides, I can’t understand anything they’re saying except for my name.

Right now, I’m lying in a baby bed (futon). Over the past two days, I’ve been observing my surroundings. Although “observing” might not be the right word—it’s more like my head keeps falling to the side whenever I try to look around.

The house I’m in is quite nice, traditional but well-maintained. The clothes I’m wearing feel luxurious, even though I can’t compare them to modern clothes. I also seem to have my own wet nurse and maid, which makes me wonder: am I rich, or am I a noble?

At first, I thought I might be living in the era of samurai—Edo, perhaps? But then I remembered there are lamps, so this isn’t the medieval period.

Like most babies, I can’t do much except cry to let people know I need something. But I never cry at night because I don’t want to disturb others. Back in my previous life, my friends often complained about being unable to sleep due to babies crying at night. That’s why I try my best not to cry at night.

My daily routine is simple: wake up—wet myself—drink milk—play—vomit—sleep. It’s been like this for two days. I’ve even noticed that my mother seems puzzled by my behavior, as I don’t act like a typical baby.

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Morning in Tokyo still carried a cold breeze left over from the storm. People in the city had already started clearing the piled-up snow, cleaning the streets so that life could return to normal.

At the mansion, everything was spotless once again.

Despite being advised to rest after giving birth and to leave the care of her baby to the wet nurse and maid, Fumi still went to her baby’s room that morning.

“Good morning, Hiyuki. Did you miss Okaa-sama?”

Fumi slid open the door and saw her baby lying on a futon, surrounded by the wet nurse and maid. Dressed in a beautiful kimono with light makeup, Fumi looked radiant.

The two women sitting beside Hiyuki moved aside and sat closer to the wall, observing silently.

“Has Hiyuki had her milk?” Fumi asked, glancing at one of the women, Hiyuki’s wet nurse.

“We’ve bathed and fed Hiyuki Ojou-sama, this morning,” the woman replied.

Hiyuki remained lying down, staring at Fumi. Fumi had heard people say she was an easy baby to care for, rarely crying unless her diaper needed changing or she was hungry.

Watching Hiyuki yawn as if bored, Fumi approached and began playing with her cheeks—stroking, pinching, and poking them. Hiyuki furrowed her brows slightly in what seemed like annoyance before returning to her usual calm expression.

“Oh? Did Okaa-sama make you mad?” Fumi chuckled and continued playing with Hiyuki’s cheeks.

“You’re still so adorable, you know.”

She then picked Hiyuki up from the futon, cradling her gently.

“I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel so bored. Even though I’ve only been a baby for two days, I’m already tired of having so little to do.”

Because of this, Hiyuki was starting to feel stressed, even though she didn’t show it—her facial muscles weren’t developed enough for that yet. Her helpless baby body only added to her frustration.

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“Aaa... Auuu...”

Hiyuki tried to shout, but her voice was too soft—it sounded more like she was attempting to talk. She flailed her arms and legs in frustration while being held. Seeing her suddenly become active, Fumi smiled warmly.

“Oh, aren’t you just the cutest, Hiyuki? And you’re even trying to talk!” Fumi giggled and continued playing with Hiyuki’s cheeks. Hiyuki could only sigh internally and resign herself to the situation.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to endure this and get through it somehow.”

With her attempt at rebellion failing, Hiyuki decided to stay quiet again and let the day pass peacefully.

“Eh? Hiyuki, you were so lively just now—why are you so quiet now?” Fumi teased, poking Hiyuki’s cheeks as if trying to get her to be active again.

"Stop poking me—I can’t even understand what you’re saying," thought Hiyuki.

Despite her efforts to grasp the words spoken around her, the language remained incomprehensible. For an adult, learning a new language is already challenging, but Hiyuki hoped that with her new body, she could absorb it faster.

"I wish I could stand and run already," she mused silently.

"Fumi-sama, if I may suggest, it’s not good to disturb your baby too much. Even though I understand how adorable and patient Hiyuki Ojou-sama is, you must restrain yourself, or she might get stressed," said Asae, a maid dressed in gray with her hair tied neatly back, as she addressed Fumi.

"I know her name because Mother calls her often. She’s bound to show up anyway," Hiyuki thought.

"But you know, Asae," Fumi began, "Hiyuki is so quiet, and that worries me."

Hiyuki couldn’t understand what Fumi was saying but felt annoyed by the concerned look on her face.

"I understand, Fumi-sama. Hiyuki Ojou-sama is indeed very different from most children. Even my own grandchildren cry often," Asae replied, approaching Hiyuki, who stared back at her. Hiyuki wondered if Asae thought of her as a strange baby.

"Fumi-sama, if you need me to call a monk, an onmyoji, a shaman, or anyone else, I will arrange it immediately," Asae offered, making Fumi’s face twist in weird smile.

"I’m sure Hiyuki is fine. She’s just a quiet baby. Isn’t that right, Hiyuki?" Fumi said, pressing her cheek against Hiyuki’s and nuzzling it gently.

"Yeah, I can’t protest. Besides, what can a newborn baby do besides stay quiet and take whatever comes their way?" Hiyuki sighed inwardly, resigned.

"Oh, by the way, Fumi-sama," Asae whispered, "this concerns Tsumugi-sama. She sends her regards and blessings for your health, and she’s pleased with the news of Hiyuki-sama’s birth."

"Of course, she’s happy, fufufu," Fumi chuckled darkly. "She’s probably relieved I didn’t give birth to a boy who could rival Sukemoto."

In her heart, Fumi knew that Tsumugi, Yamamoto’s first wife, was too wary. If she had borne a son, Tsumugi might have sent assassins or even poisoned the child.

"But don’t worry, Asae," Fumi said confidently, lifting Hiyuki to show her off. "I’m sure Hiyuki will surpass anyone. She’s so clever—look, she doesn’t trouble anyone. Oh, and do thank Tsumugi-dono for her regards."

"Fumi-sama, you must be careful when holding a baby. Support her neck properly to keep her safe," Asae exclaimed nervously, watching Fumi handle Hiyuki like a doll.

"I’m tired. I’m bored. And I don’t even understand what they’re saying, except that I’m the topic of discussion. I might as well sleep," Hiyuki thought.

Noticing her baby closing her eyes, Fumi smiled and laid Hiyuki down in her futon before returning to her quarters with Asae, leaving Hiyuki with her wet nurse.

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"So, that woman’s daughter is named Hiyuki?" mused a beautiful woman clad in an equally exquisite kimono.

Her long, jet-black hair was impeccably styled, and her pale, flawless skin marked her as highborn. She was Tsumugi, Yamamoto’s first wife and the mother of Sukemoto, the family’s sole son. Tsumugi’s thoughts turned to Fumi’s irritating face.

In Tsumugi’s eyes, Fumi—a commoner—was an unwelcome disturbance. As a noblewoman, she believed she should have been the sole wife, yet her husband had accepted a second wife, a woman of common birth.

Naturally, she couldn’t outright oppose this decision as a "good wife," but she couldn’t entirely accept it either. She acquiesced on the condition that Fumi live in the secondary residence rather than the main house. Yamamoto agreed, having already brought Fumi all the way from Hokkaido to Tokyo.

Thus, Fumi had lived in the secondary residence—a traditional shoin-zukuri home rarely used—while the main house stood as a two-story Western-style mansion. It had been nearly two years since Fumi moved in, and not long ago, she had given birth to a daughter. Tsumugi had heard that when the baby was born, a fierce storm swept through, and the child didn’t even cry upon birth.

"I’m grateful it was a girl and not a boy; Sukemoto won’t face any rivals. But isn’t this baby a bad omen?" Tsumugi wondered, recalling the peculiarities surrounding the child.

She also heard that the baby never cried at night. Though unsure whether this was true, Tsumugi knew one thing: Sukemoto was the rightful heir, and Fumi’s daughter posed no threat.

"Even if that woman had birthed a son, I would have dealt with it—permanently if necessary," Tsumugi thought with a sinister smile, feeling a twisted sense of joy that morning.