Darkness. Warmth. Comfort.

That was my world for the longest time. Floating in a peaceful abyss, drifting in and out of consciousness. Then, one day… I was born.

And another suffering began.

The Harsh Reality of Infancy

The first thing I learned about being a baby? It sucks. Literally though.

Let’s get one thing straight—I never imagined my second life would start like this.

Sucking on my mother’s breast.

Call me shameless, but I have no choice. I’ll die if I don’t.

This body—this tiny, frail, newborn form—demands nourishment. I need milk. That’s the only thing that will help me grow faster. So, as much as it pains my pride, I latch on and drink like my life depends on it.

Because, well, it does.

Honestly, I’ve given up on being embarrassed. There’s no point. Dignity won’t keep me alive, but milk will. So, I suck, gulping down the warm, slightly sweet liquid, letting the familiar rhythm lull me into an almost meditative state.

But drinking is only part of my new, highly prestigious daily routine.

Well, what else can I do? I’m a baby.

So my life has been reduced to milk, sleep, poop, repeat. An endless, mind-numbing cycle of feeding, dozing off, and relieving myself like a useless sack of flesh.

It’s humiliating.

I never thought my existence would be reduced to this, but here we are—latched onto my mother like a helpless parasite, gulping down milk to survive.

Most of the day, I sleep. Not by choice, mind you. This body just shuts down whenever it wants. One second, I’m awake, listening in on conversations, trying to piece together my new reality—the next, I’m gone. Lights out. No warning.

And then, of course, there’s the other part of my day.

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Pooping.

No, I don’t want to talk about it.

Moving on.

I can’t move properly. My arms and legs are short and weak, wobbling uselessly whenever I try to stretch. My fingers curl instinctively, but I have no control over them. And my head? Heavy as hell. Just lifting it a little makes me feel like I’m carrying a damn boulder.

Everything is out of my control.

I can’t talk. I can’t ask questions. I can’t do anything.

The worst part? My body is completely dependent on my mother.

So far, my biggest achievement in this new life is eavesdropping on my parents. Since I can’t move, speak, or do anything remotely useful, I just listen. And from what I’ve gathered, my father, Aizak, is a professor at an academy here in the city.

They call this place the Capital City of Draguan.

It sounds important, which means I was either born into nobility, a scholarly family, or a middle-class household in a big, bustling city. I have no idea which yet.

As for my father’s job? He teaches geography.

Maps, lands, natural formations, probably some history thrown in there too. So basically, he’s a scholar, an intellectual, a man of books. A nerd, if I’m being honest.

Then there’s my mother, Sheina.

She’s… a soldier? A guard? A protector? I’m not entirely sure yet. I’ve heard the words duty, training, protection, and security a lot when she talks, so she’s definitely in some kind of military or law enforcement.

Which makes my parents… an odd pair.

A teacher and a soldier. A bookworm and a warrior.

I don’t know how those two ended up together, but if genetics mean anything, I might be in for an interesting ride.

Since I can’t do much besides eat, sleep, and listen, I’ve been gathering information.

And this world is insane.

A few days ago, I overheard my father talking about a war between two kingdoms. Naturally, I thought it was over land, resources, or some political dispute. You know, the usual stuff.

Nope.

It was over a woman.

Some king wanted to marry a noblewoman from another kingdom, but she rejected him. Instead of moving on like a sane person, the bastard declared war.

A full-scale war because he got friend-zoned.

I nearly choked on my mother’s milk when I heard that. If I could’ve spoken, I would’ve screamed, "WHAT KIND OF SIMP KING NONSENSE IS THIS?!"

Seriously, how fragile does your ego have to be to throw your entire country into war over a girl?! I can already picture him in my head—some arrogant prick sitting on a golden throne, grinding his teeth while his advisors try to reason with him.

Advisor: "Your Majesty, please, let’s reconsider! War will cost thousands of lives!"

Simp King: "SILENCE! She broke my heart! Now BURN HER KINGDOM TO THE GROUND!"

What an idiot.

But that’s not even the craziest thing I’ve learned.

Apparently, people in this world live a lot longer.

A normal person can reach 200 years. If they’re lucky, 300.

At first, I thought, Damn, that’s impressive. But then I heard some reasons.

It's either of lineage traits or they drink a potion made from blood.

Blood.

Of what, exactly? I have no idea. They didn’t say, and I can’t exactly ask.

But one thing’s for sure—this world is far more interesting than the one I came from. Magic, alchemy, maybe even immortality?

This place is hiding secrets. And one day, I’ll uncover them all.

For now, though?

I can get lazy as i want. Milk. Sleep. Poop. Repeat.