When I came to, I was in a hospital. "Look, Honey. He's awake." A man prodded a woman. Do they mean me? But who are these people? I thought. Hang on, this woman is ... cradling me in her arms? Like a... Baby? I tried to check out my surroundings, but I couldn't lift my head. Was my head always this heavy? Is this the effects of the needle or...

A burst of pain struck my head with the impact of a sledgehammer as the events of the past hours exploded into my mind. The needle. My death. The Arch-demon. Instinctively, I started crying. Gangster bosses are tough. They have to be. But even if I had not been in the body of a newborn baby, I might have teared up. The trauma of death is enough to break the minds of even seasoned criminals and soldiers. "Look! He's crying! Adorable!" The woman, who must have been my mother, exclaimed. As the happy couple fussed over their bundle of tears, I let my thoughts drift to my past life. I've lost all connection to my past life. Everyone in the vultures, people that I've seen as friends and comrades... And Jimmy Cron. What had gone wrong? Could I have prevented it? If I hadn't trusted that fox Cron, where would I be now? What a shame that I had died without getting my revenge. But never mind. I'd died, but I'd been reborn. In this life, surely, I will mete out justice and live with no regrets! "Um, darling, I think the baby needs a change of diapers." Oops. Perhaps revenge can come later. As I watched my new parents fawn over me, my thoughts wandered again. How long has it been since I'd last felt parental care? So many years. Would I have still led a life of crime if you'd stayed home that day? Mother. Father. I've missed you so...

Six years had passed since then. I'd wanted to test out the Arch-demon's ability earlier, but I decided to err on the side of caution. One can never know the disasters caused by the flimsy magic control of an infant, especially when demonic powers were involved.

Instead, I decided to learn as much of the world as I could in preparation for this day. There were several things I learned.

1. This is not the Earth I'm familiar with. The people of this planet call it "Hearth", which bears a suspicious resemblance to Earth.

2. Magic exists and is actually widespread among the population, with many schools and magic academies offering Magic as a subject of study. To the best of my knowledge, everyone can have at most one magical attribute or ability. At least, if there exists someone that wields numerous abilities, I've yet to meet them or hear of them. The ability I inherited from the demon would be Imaginary Space, which I plan to test out today.

3. Hearth can be considered to be technologically on par with Earth thanks to the incorporation and study of magical elements, which have revolutionized technology in certain fields, yet greatly lag behind Earth in some other areas. Certain technology also seem to be a prerogative of a collation of Nobles and societal Elites.

4. Early bloomers begin their magic training at the tender age of 6. It is generally not recommended to practice Magic before 6 due to the inherently dangerous and volatile nature of magic.

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With these 4 precious nuggets of knowledge in mind, I decided that today would be the start of my magic training. When I say Magic Training, I don't mean official training at a school, institution or magic academy. I mean unofficial, surreptitious training, conducted and supervised by yours truly. My parents in this world have been true to their role as doting and devoted parents, and I'd hate to shock them with magic bestowed by an arch-demon. (I still wasn't sure which types of magic are normal, seeing as there are hundreds of branches of magic. ) That being the case, I'd decided early on that I should hide my magical abilities, even from my own parents, in case someone could trace it's origins. Users of demonic magic never enjoyed happy endings in the stories back on Earth. They usually ended up afflicted with some horrible curse or persecuted by the hero. Hence, I'd decided that I'd conduct all my future magic training sessions on days when my parents were both out on work, or otherwise practice in areas that afforded me a reasonable degree of privacy.

I'd waited six long, agonizing years. I'd restrained myself from ever displaying or even practicing magic. Imagine a child receiving presents from Santa on Christmas. Temptation would dictate that he open the present overnight, never mind in six years time. But I'd resolved to be more careful in this life. I would play it safe. Start magic training at an age that most consider appropriate for such. Be more careful about who I trust. I can't have a repeat of the Jimmy Cron incident. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and I can't be a very good gangster boss. I'd have to have you killed or something.

The seeds of distrust and caution have always been ingrained in my personality; sown by the constant vigil against law enforcement and rival gangs. Yet no man can be on constant high alert, and I let myself lower my guard around my associates and the Vultures. Jimmy Cron exploited that to consign me to death. By a random stroke of lunch, a higher order being had prevented the destruction of my soul. The seeds of caution, nurtured by the bitter soil of death and betrayal, now bloomed into a mighty tree. This time, I will not make the same mistakes. I will no longer be betrayed. I will put the ability bequeathed to me to full use. I am six. Imaginary Space training can begin.