I’ve been a baby for a month now and, don't let them smiling bastards with shit filled diapers on the commercials fool you. Being a baby sucks. Every five minutes, someone’s kissing you, poking you, or picking you up like a trophy they won at a carnival. I’ve been manhandled with more affection in this past month than in my entire previous life—not that the bar was high.

And the dizziness? My God, the dizziness. Turns out, when you’re passed around like a breadbasket at a family dinner, your tiny body doesn’t cope well. I’ve been so nauseated that puking has become my new favorite pastime. The maid learned that the hard way this morning. She scooped me up for one of her endless "baby cuddles," and, well... let’s just say I gave her a facial treatment her pretty face didn’t sign up for. The look of horror on her face? Priceless. Scene straight out of one of those alien movies. I felt bad for about two seconds before realizing this might be my first real act of rebellion in this world. Baby me: 1. World: 0.

Let’s talk about these hands of mine—these stubby, utterly useless, sausage-like appendages. They don’t grip, they don’t point, and they definitely don’t help. Unless you count getting in the way, at which they excel. Just this morning, I accidentally smacked myself in the face trying to grab a blanket. Twice. Twice. How am I supposed to survive like this? Yet somehow, everyone around me finds this endearing. "Oh, look at his little hands," the maid coos. Lady, these things are a liability.

And speaking of liabilities, let’s discuss my new life situation. Welcome to the esteemed House Valdris—a noble family that’s about as noble as a Kardashian. Sure, the manor is big by baby standards, but it’s eerily empty. There’s one maid (the poor woman still wiping baby puke out of her hair), and occasionally my father’s assistant waddles in. This guy—he’s a round, balding mess who looks like he’s one bad sneeze away from toppling over. He’s supposed to help with paperwork, but I’m pretty sure his main skill is eating the family’s food stores.

The house itself? Imagine walking into a thrift store that’s been ransacked. Half the rooms are empty, like someone forgot to furnish them. The walls are bare except for a few faded portraits of grim-looking ancestors who seem to be judging me from beyond the grave. Maybe they’re just as disappointed as I am.

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Anyway, my father, Erin Valdris, is doing his best—or so I assume. He’s got the look of a noble: broad shoulders, a sharp jawline, and green eyes that seem to hold the weight of the world. But beneath that exterior? He’s a man drowning. House Valdris is broke. Not “tight on cash” broke. No, we’re “pawn the family heirlooms to buy bread” broke. In eight years—according to the game lore—our family will hit rock bottom. I still remember that one hilarious yet depressing line from the game: "Since the Demon War, House Valdris has been.... Eating grass and rat intestines." Ha. Funny when you’re playing the game. Less funny when you’re live it.

We’re barely scraping by with enchanted trinket trading, and the other noble families? They’re circling us like vultures. You know that feeling when you’re down to your last dollar, and the world feels like it’s mocking you? That’s us. We’re in debt by alot of dollars, and don't have one. My father, for all his efforts, is clutching at straws. The name Valdris carries weight, but it’s fading faster than my patience for this baby nonsense.

Still, I’ve been listening. Erin and his assistant talk endlessly about finances, politics, and the state of the realm. It’s all I can do to soak up the information like a sponge because this baby brain of mine? It’s like trying to load a hundred tabs on an old laptop. My memories are hazy, like looking at them through frosted glass, but every day, I recall a little more. It’s... unsettling. Useful, but unsettling. I really hope me forgetting doesn’t come back to bite me.

Oh, and did I mention the floating texts? Yeah, those are new. Just hanging out in the corner of my vision like obnoxious pop-ups I can’t dismiss:

[FULL SYSTEM AWAKENS IN: 335 Days]

[STREAM AVAILABLE IN: 4,715 Days]

The “system” has to be the game mechanics—stats, skills, all that jazz. The “stream”? No clue. Maybe it’s a cosmic joke. Whatever it is, I’ve got 335 days before the system kicks in. Until then, I’m just a helpless baby with a very active gag reflex.

But here’s the kicker: I’m starting to enjoy this bizarre, chaotic life. Not the puking or the cheek-pinching—that can burn in hellfire—but the potential. House Valdris might be a sinking ship, but ships can be repaired, right? And me? I might be small and helpless now, but I’ve got time. Time to figure out this world, this life, and how to avoid the grim fate that awaits us in the game’s lore.

For now, though, I think I’ll just try not to puke on anyone else. Baby steps. Literally.