I was just as shocked as she was — maybe more — but that didn’t stop her from scooping me up.

And look, I get it. This body? Crazy weak. I could barely crawl across the room without feeling like my lungs were about to collapse. But still — being carried like some helpless toddler? Humiliating. Especially when you’re a grown man in his thirties, trapped in whatever this was.

Before I knew it, I was back in the bed. Again.

The woman hovered over me, eyes wide and shining. “Young master — how did you— no, am I dreaming?!”

Funny. I was kind of wondering the same thing.

But the way she looked at me — hands pressed together like she was offering some kind of prayer, smiling so hard it reached her eyes — it made my stomach twist. There was something desperate in her relief.

My throat ached. Talking felt impossible, but I forced a word out anyway. “W… water.”

Her face lit up. “Oh! I’ll get you water right away!”

image [https://static.vecteezy.com/system/resources/thumbnails/027/187/944/small/gold-and-luxury-under-line-png.png]

Minutes passed before I could even speak properly — my throat still felt like sandpaper — but once I managed, the questions wouldn’t stop. I needed answers.

The woman’s name was Mari. She looked startled when I asked, like she thought I’d lost my mind. Maybe she wasn’t far off.

She kept insisting on calling the family physician, but I wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. I convinced her to stay — told her I was dealing with some memory loss, which seemed like a safer explanation than the truth.

Through her, I learned my name: Rowan. No last name — I didn’t push for it. I had bigger questions. Like where am I.

Mari’s face twisted in confusion when I asked. “The capital, Velmark, young master.”

Velmark. Never heard of it. Not once. Denmark, sure — but Velmark? That didn’t ring any bells.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The more I learned, the worse the pit in my stomach got.

When I asked how old I was, she told me.

Eleven.

I was in the body of an eleven-year-old.

That was… a hell of an age gap from my original thirty-plus years.

“Young master,” Mari said gently, her face soft with worry, “we… we really didn’t think you would wake up. You’ve been unconscious for a week.”

A week.

Hearing it wasn’t overwhelming at first — not really. But when you actually think about it, a kid being in a week-long coma? Yeah, that’s terrifying. And I hadn’t even lived through it — I just woke up here, hijacked this body. That part? That was the real nightmare.

“Should I call the physician now, young master?” Mari’s voice broke through my thoughts, gentle but insistent.

I didn’t want to agree. Not yet. But pushing for more answers was only going to make her more suspicious — like I’d been possessed or swapped out for something else. And maybe I had.

Besides, the physician might actually tell me something useful.

So I nodded. And then I waited.

And waited.

Half an hour passed. Nothing. No physician. Just me, stuck in this bed, too weak to do anything but stew in my own frustration.

An hour. Still nothing. I eyed the door, seriously considering crawling my way out again — but even my pride wasn’t that desperate yet.

Finally, the door creaked open. Mari stepped inside, and behind her was someone taller, still talking as they walked in.

“Seriously, how that kid even survive that? I swear, Mari, if you’re messing with me, I’m gonna slice you up and heal you after!”

…Okay. That was one way to make an entrance.

The door clicked shut, and the second she spotted me, the woman behind Mari moved.

Fast.

One second, she was by the door — the next, she was right up in my space, leaning over me so close I flinched back against the pillows. For a second, I thought she was about to kiss me — which was insane, but so was the whole situation.

Up close, she looked like she belonged on a battlefield, not in a sickroom. Lean, strong, dark brown hair tied back with a few loose strands falling into her face. Sharp gray eyes. Olive-toned skin, tanned and weathered.

And she wasn’t just looking at me — she was studying me.

“What in Phanes’ light is going on here?!” she demanded.

Swearing, then. Or maybe a prayer — either way, she was clearly thrown.

Her hand pressed against my stomach, her touch clinical and rough. She didn’t seem to care much about personal space, and there was something else I noticed, too — something I probably should care about.

This woman? She wasn’t treating me like a how Mari treated me, considering this kid was a son of a noble.

She tapped my stomach—light, but I felt it. And I definitely didn’t like it.

“What did you do, kid?!”

How was I supposed to answer that? I didn’t have any memories besides my old life—and how I’d ended up in this one was still a complete mystery. I didn’t even know what this kid’s body had been through before I woke up in it.

But I had to say something.

“I… don’t know,” I said finally. “I just woke up.”

“Woke up?” She snorted. “Yeah, featherweight, we all saw that part. I’m asking how your illness just… vanished.”

My stomach twisted—not from whatever she was poking at, but from the word itself.

Illness?

I blinked at her, then at Mari. They were both watching me too closely, and I had no idea what they wanted from me. I knew this kid had been in a coma, but illness? What in the world had been wrong with him? It must’ve been serious—this body was weak enough to prove that.

But I had no idea how to play this. I didn’t even know what game we were in.

“What… illness?” I asked slowly.

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t play dumb. When I pressed here—” she tapped my stomach again, and I bit down a wince—“I didn’t feel anything off. Which leaves me with two options.” She tilted her head. “One: you did something. Or two: you really don’t know.”

“I don’t know,” I said, and this time the words came easier. Because they were the truth. “I don’t remember… anything.”

Mari’s face softened—just a bit—and when she glanced at the doctor, she gave a small, almost hesitant nod.

Like she believed me. Or wanted to.

The doctor? She wasn’t convinced. Not yet. And the way she was still staring at me made it clear she wasn’t the type to let things go.