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*Clap-clap!*

Some hours pass by, and the atmosphere right now is quite pleasant. Though the sound of some machinery outside this place scratches my curiosity, as they are almost like big balloons or blimps for that matter.

Both of them have sung some songs for me which are in Mother's hands, riddled with instruments coming from their electronic devices, similar to that of smartphones.

I am glad I get to be around an advanced civilization, as I can confirm that there is some network that they both surfs when tired of playing with me if you can call it that when I'm not giving surprised reaction all the time.

It seems that I've reincarnated far into the near future, not fully sci-fi as I don't see starships or any space-faring transportation.`Just who was I before this awakening, what could be the reason and why?`

Mother Fiona. She is all tucked up in a white cloth that is easy for her to move around, as she is still recovering from the process of birthing me. `Even I find it discouraging, knowing it's not a pure soul that'll be your child`

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

[https://i.imgur.com/x0GUnmK.png]

Mother Fiona, unlike Father Garvin, is not of the Wolvenfolk, as evidenced by the lack of canine ears but rather is a Sirenkin, which is signified by their oozing warmth that'd be felt to some degree.

I guess that she's either of the bewitching sea creatures or the opposite of harpies... No, neither is the case. This world's definition of Sirens is Half-spirits, Half-human. And this world's spirits are out there, observing the world for God knows why. `… So that means, even in bed?… Ugh~!`

Fiona / Garvin: "If you know what to do, then come here and say Mama! / Papa!". And they're now competing against each other, for the sake of being the 'first' parent ʼ⁴.

*Ker-clack*. The door swings wide, with the two watchers bringing with them a wheelchair for Mother who is still unable to walk normally, as expected from one who just gave birth.

Bernard: "Any odd symptoms to either of you?"

Fiona: "Aha, NO. Arlan is a good and healthy child. He won't hurt us in any way, won't you?". I nod as she looks at me, and seems to be pleased with my reaction.

Bernard: "Delivery's here, you two have it easy with him, it'll… be some time before you get to be down from the hospital. G'night, then". He waves his hand as he let the door as is.

Father stands up and prepares the wheelchair, which oddly enough is a standard of the 2030s, and helps Mother sit on it.

Garvin: "So, shall we?"

Fiona: "Let's, us three". The tone she brings the words with, is a gesture of reassurance, intentional or not. That even though I may not be their son in soul, I may at least still be able to continue on as their son in blood. . .

*Creak*

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ʼ⁴ refers to the moment of truth when a child gets to say their first word after months of practicing talking, especially if it's the pen name of either of their parents.

(#) Loggers Note 1: Wonder when I can get to experience this myself?

(#) Loggers Note 2: . . .

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