Two months had passed since Arlan’s rebirth, and though he was still an infant, his mind—thanks to his memories from his previous life—was far from typical. At first, everything had been a blur of light, warmth, and muffled sounds. But as his senses sharpened, he began to notice details in his environment that hinted at something far beyond the mundane life he had once known on Earth.

The stone walls of his nursery were adorned with tapestries depicting strange beasts and warriors wielding glowing swords. He’d heard words he couldn’t understand, but with time, he’d started to pick up basic tones and patterns. Even though he was physically helpless, his mind grew sharper every day, cataloging everything he saw and heard.

One day, as he lay on his small, ornate cradle, a maid entered the room—a young woman who moved with the practiced grace of someone used to hard work. She gave him a kind smile, muttering something he couldn’t understand, and went about her duties.

Then, something extraordinary happened.

Arlan watched with wide eyes as the maid lifted her hand over a dusty shelf. She whispered a single word—“Clean.”

Instantly, a shimmer of energy rippled from her fingers, and the dust vanished, leaving the shelf spotless. She moved her hand in a small, practiced motion, muttering the word again as she turned her attention to the floor, where a similar glimmer swept away the dirt and grime.

Arlan’s tiny heart pounded with excitement. Magic. Real, actual magic. His mind raced, replaying the scene. She hadn’t done anything strenuous or complicated; it had been a simple word, spoken with intention, and the room had responded.

As she continued, Arlan’s wonder only grew. He’d known magic from books and movies in his former life, but seeing it here—feeling the energy in the air as the word summoned action—made him realize just how different this world was from Earth.

I’m in a world where magic is real, he thought, a thrill of excitement and curiosity sparking within him. How is this possible?

Over the next few weeks, Arlan became more observant, eager to piece together the nature of his new family and their place in this magical world. From the hushed conversations he overheard between the servants, he picked up key words and names, repeating them in his mind until they started to take shape in his understanding.

One word he heard often was “Baron,” usually spoken with a hint of respect and deference. He began to understand that his father held a title, one that carried weight and authority. Gradually, he deduced that his family was part of the nobility in this land. They referred to his father as “Baron” and seemed to treat him with a respect that bordered on reverence.

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It wasn’t long before he overheard something even more intriguing: “Kingdom of Diamond.”

The maids and attendants spoke of the “Kingdom of Diamond” in tones of loyalty and pride. His father was a baron here, and from the few hints he could piece together, Arlan realized that he himself was an only child, the sole heir to whatever influence and power his family held.

The concept of lineage and inheritance wasn’t lost on him, even as a baby. It was a new identity to adjust to—one that came with responsibilities and expectations that were far different from the ordinary life he’d known before.

So, I’m the son of a baron in a kingdom where magic exists, he thought, lying in his cradle as he processed the implications of his new life.

With this knowledge came a growing fascination with the magic he observed around him. The servants seemed to use it casually, as if it were as natural as breathing. He’d seen others beside the maid use simple spells to aid their tasks, whether it was lighting candles with a flick of the wrist or calling for water with a soft incantation.

Yet he noticed that only some of the household staff seemed capable of performing these spells. There were certain individuals who, despite their duties, never attempted any magic. Arlan noted this, his young mind wondering if magic was something not everyone could access or if it required special training.

As the days passed, he realized he was absorbing knowledge at a rapid rate. His past experiences as an adult helped him make sense of things that might have confused any other child, and he became adept at piecing together context from snippets of conversation and observations.

In his quiet moments, he started to dream about what lay beyond the walls of the baron’s estate. What kinds of creatures and mysteries filled this world? And, more pressingly, would he himself have the ability to use magic someday?

One evening, as Arlan lay quietly, his father entered the nursery. The baron was an imposing man, broad-shouldered and dignified, with a look of fierce pride and determination in his eyes. He picked up Arlan, holding him up as he examined him with an intensity that Arlan had come to expect.

The baron spoke to him in that deep, resonant voice, and though Arlan couldn’t understand all of it, he sensed the importance behind the words. He felt the weight of his father’s expectations pressing on him, a subtle but unmistakable promise that he would one day carry the family’s legacy forward.

In that moment, he realized that his life here wasn’t just a second chance. He had been given a role, one with weight and meaning. There was a legacy to uphold, a path to carve out, and possibly, a future where he could learn to wield the very magic he saw around him.

As his father set him back down and left the room, Arlan gazed up at the ceiling, his mind brimming with possibilities. His old life on Earth had been ordinary, filled with dreams that never came to fruition. But here, he had the chance to be someone different, someone powerful.

If magic is real… what else is possible in this world?

And with that thought, he drifted off to sleep, eager for the possibilities that awaited him in this strange, enchanted life.

(End of the Chapter).