In the center of the group of those five people stood a woman with long, wavy auburn hair that reached her shoulders. Dressed in an elegant, pale white gown and wearing a sort of golden crown, the woman was presumably Ginevra, or so Vector guessed.

To her right were three young girls who were nearly identical to each other! Triplets, also with brown hair and dressed as elegantly as princesses.

“Oh Mother Nature!” Ginevra exclaimed, quickly retracting the hand she had used to remove the blanket draped over Vector, covering her mouth as she tried to hold back her tears.

With a voice trembling on the edge of sobs, she turned to the man on her left, addressing him as he continued to gaze incredulously at Vector:

“Arthur… Tell me, a-am I… dreaming?! Is it possible that our son is-”

Suddenly, before she could finish speaking, the man lifted Vector’s body into the air. As he did so, a broad smile brightened his face.

‘Hey, what are you doing?!’ Vector thought to himself, surprised and frowning as he stared at the man holding him up. ‘Put me down immediately, you jerk!’

“I-Incredible!” Arthur stammered, astonished but joyful. “This isn’t a dream, nor an illusion! Ginevra, my dear: our son has returned to life!”

The news caused Ginevra to step back in shock, while the three girls remained motionless, staring at the newborn like marble statues.

“H-How is this possible?” asked the girl on the far right.

“Our little brother… Is he really alive?!” asked the one in the middle, incredulous.

“I can’t believe it!” cried the last one, on the left of the trio, as she burst into tears.

At that moment, Ginevra could no longer hold back, and tears began to flow freely from her as well.

This time, however, they were tears of joy.

“I don’t know how any of this could have happened, my daughters. But it no longer matters!” Ginevra added, simply happy to have her son back alive.

Drying the last of her tears, she extended her arms toward the man holding Vector.

“Arthur, please, let me hold my beloved son!”

Without needing to be told twice, the man with black hair, a short beard, and green eyes—also wearing a golden crown—handed Vector over to the woman at his side.

‘Leave me alone, damn it!’ thought Vector, glaring irritably at both Arthur and Ginevra.

The old man’s quick instinct, in a desperate attempt to free himself from those strangers, was to gesture wildly with his hands and arms, without any sense. Like an octopus, he decided to wave his limbs in the air at great speed.

But when he tried to do so, finally realizing he could move his body again, he noticed that his arms were shorter than usual. His fingers and hand, too, were miniature—four or even five times smaller than before. Moreover, his skin was healed: no longer wrinkled like that of a grumpy old man, but tender and smooth like that of a child.

‘I know I’ve already asked myself this too many times… But seriously, what the hell is going on here?!’

As he examined his small, fragile hands, slowly rotating them to better analyze the backs and palms, the woman named Ginevra stroked his face with gentle, loving gestures. Occasionally, she would kiss him, then sniff him, then kiss him again, all while moving around the room, dancing merrily and spinning occasionally.

‘Stop, woman! At this rate, you’re going to make me throw up!’

After another couple of spins, the woman suddenly stopped.

‘Thank you…’

After slowly regaining his vision as the world around him stopped spinning, Vector examined the spacious rectangular room where he found himself along with those five strangers.

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In the right corner, near the door, there was a tall, large oak wardrobe with partially open doors, revealing numerous children’s clothes hanging inside.

The room was bright, flooded with sunlight streaming in through the tall, arched windows framed by heavy white velvet curtains, drawn back to let in the warm, golden rays of the day.

The walls were simply painted a deep, uniform blue—a color that conveyed calmness and depth, without distracting with decorations or unnecessary details.

The floor was made of polished wooden planks, creaking underfoot and giving the room a sense of sturdiness and warmth.

The high ceiling was painted with a night sky filled with golden stars. Solid gold candelabras hung from the ceiling, suggesting an ambiance of warm, soft lighting once night fell.

In the center of the room was a cradle, where Vector had remained trapped and unable to move, under a white velvet blanket until the arrival of those five strangers.

Examining it closely, he noticed the cradle was made of carved wood and decorated with golden floral motifs, drawing attention to this undoubtedly expensive piece of furniture.

To Vector, the room alone was a clear and sufficient indication of the wealth and power of what was likely a noble family.

The three girls, standing by the cradle, wore long white silk gowns with discreetly shimmering hems under the sunlight. Their looks, filled with astonishment, were fixed on Vector, almost transfixed, as the natural light highlighted the purity of their attire and the elegance of the jewelry adorning them.

‘What the hell are you staring at, little brats?’

Annoyed by their intense stares, Vector shifted his attention slightly to the right, finally resting it on the man with black hair and the virile features of his face.

Beside the cradle, dressed in military attire, the man named Arthur stood tall with his imposing figure. His pristine white uniform was adorned with medals and rank insignia, suggesting a high status and a possible prominent role in the army.

‘His eyes are such a pale green…’

Overall, the entire room exuded an atmosphere of ancient royalty—a place where the sun illuminated not only objects but also the prestige and history of its inhabitants, reminding Vector of an era when kings and queens ruled vast lands.

‘These people must be really rich!’

Still held in the embrace of the woman with dark brown eyes, Vector found himself on the shorter side of the room, facing a mirror framed by an intricate golden border.

The reflected image showed a lost and bewildered child.

‘Wait a second… That… THAT WOULD BE ME?!’

Looking at himself in the mirror, Vector noticed a small amount of black hair on his little head, very different from the white hair he’d had in the snowy storm. His eyes, previously just dark, had now turned a deep green with a few brown specks here and there—hazel eyes, to be precise.

Moreover, his face was no longer wrinkled and marked with deep lines, the results of a long life spent in misery. Instead, his face was smooth, and his cheeks so plump that anyone would be tempted to pinch and play with them.

‘Wow, I even look adorable to myself… Wait, what am I saying?! I don’t have time for this!’

Taking a deep breath, as much as his new little lungs would allow, Vector resumed reflecting on what truly mattered in that moment:

‘First of all, I need to understand, once and for all, what the hell is happening! Why am I suddenly a child? Where exactly have I ended up? And these people… are they the family of this child? If so… No, wait. Now that I think about it… This is my family! Because, after all, I am the child! That would explain why this woman and man keep referring to me as their “son.” But even so, how can all this be explained?!’

Lost in that sea of thoughts, Vector furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of the absurd situation he found himself in. But once again, he came up empty.

Meanwhile, the dark-eyed woman, still holding the child, returned to the others at the center of the room.

“Oh, my son! You have no idea how happy we are to see you alive and well!” exclaimed Ginevra, hugging Vector lovingly in her arms.

“Indeed!” replied Arthur, taking the newborn and lifting him into the air once again.

“Darling, please be careful! He’s still too little, and something could happen to him again,” Ginevra cautioned, worried about her son.

‘Exactly, you jerk!’ Vector cursed internally. ‘Listen to her and let me go!’

“Don’t worry, my dear!” Arthur reassured her.

Then, with an excited look, he locked eyes with Vector, addressing him with a broad smile:

“You, my son, are my hope. And at the same time, you are our greatest pride! Resurrected from the dead, you are a true miracle!”

Vector frowned.

‘If you don’t put me down, I swear I’ll throw up on you, little jerk!’ cursed the beloved newborn, puffing his little nose in a completely adorable act.

“Aww, how cute!” exclaimed one of the three triplets, the one on the left.

‘You stay out of this, little brat!’

After a moment of admiration and smiles directed at the small newborn, Ginevra addressed the man, almost impatiently:

“So, dear, what do you plan to name him?!”

The three young girls simultaneously craned their necks toward Arthur, ears open wide, curious to hear the answer. After all, during all the months Ginevra had been pregnant, Arthur had never revealed to anyone the name he had chosen for his son, even after his death.

“You want to know his name, do you?” the man asked rhetorically, smiling at his wife before turning his enthusiastic gaze back to Vector, still lifted in the air. “In all the seven realms of Harmony, he will be known as the ‘Risen Prince’: my dear princesses, and my dear queen, I present to you Mirac Strongold! Son of the impetuous King Arthur Strongold, and future twelfth sovereign of the Flame Kingdom of the Strongold dynasty!”

Once he finished his long declaration, Arthur’s voice, strong and virile, echoed deeply against the walls of the room.

The woman named Ginevra burst into tears of joy once again, while her three daughters helped her wipe her tears.

Meanwhile, an unconscious smile graced Vector’s small, thin lips as he reflected on the name just announced by King Arthur:

‘Mirac Strongold? Yeah, it doesn’t sound bad, I must say…’