Eliza was roused by her stomach grumbling for sustenance. It was such a natural feature in mortals but for her, it was an alien sensation. The dissonance between her knowledge and reactions didn’t make sense. It was easy to know that. After all, she had innate mastery of the concept of common sense yet her own behavior seemed like it didn’t comply with said common sense.

Firstly, she was a newborn and her common sense said that she couldn’t have complicated thought processes.

Her internal monologues were no doubt more complicated than anything an infant could have, without a doubt. Whether it had anything to do with the infinite Willpower she had or not, Eliza didn’t know. For now, that was the only logical solution.

Secondly, it seemed that children shouldn’t be able to use Appraisal but she’d done so before falling asleep. The fact that her mother hid it didn’t help her case.

Thirdly, the peculiar sensation of sleep was unfamiliar but that could be shrugged off to that being the first time she’d slept in her life. That didn’t answer how and why she knew all this and had developed something like common sense.

Fourthly, eating was as unfamiliar as sleep but that could also be shrugged off by the same reasoning as sleep.

Her common sense told her a bit too late that children had to cry when they were born and she didn’t wish to draw more attention to herself by acting out of the ordinary. After she noticed that she was being carried by her mother, Eliza instantly realized what she had to do.

She had to cry.

Eliza opened her mouth to attempt that but she stopped.

She couldn’t bring herself to do something so shameful.

Why would she?

Even if she seemed like an oddball, it was best that she have a certain manner of dignity. If she had to choose between being burnt at the stake and crying for milk, she’d instantly choose the former. There was no debate.

Eliza deigned to grip her mother’s arm as hard as she could, which resulted in a soft “Ouch,” from the older woman. With her limited mobility, Eliza proceeded to smack her head into her mother’s belly, which managed to get her to understand what she meant.

Evelyn, her mother, put her tit into Eliza’s mouth all the while the child glared daggers at her. It was clear what the gaze meant. Even for the densest human in the world, the glare would roughly translate to: “If I could help it, I wouldn’t be doing this.”

The breastmilk of a mother was the main sustenance of most mammals for the first few months of their life and in the case of a human, it happened to be six months.

Eliza knew that.

“Darling, look. The baby’s glaring at me again,” said Evelyn after a snort, her joking tone clear, “I’d say she’s ninety percent you and ten percent me.”

“I don’t glare,” said Tristan grumpily.

“You do. All the time,” retorted Evelyn and for some reason, their quarreling seemed childish.

Weren’t they supposed to be adults?

That was another thing on Eliza’s list of unnatural things regarding the dissonance between her self and what her common sense dictated that she be.

She was more mature than her parents, which shouldn’t be possible. Not at this age, at least. That wasn’t how humans were built. The adults were built to be competent and serious while being witty whereas children were supposed to be adorable, little things that were entertaining to watch.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Wait…

How did she know that?

The amount of thinking forced her to close her eyes.

…

The next time that Eliza came to, it seemed to be daytime. She was born during the night and when she woke up the next time, it was evidently night. However, it seemed that this time it was daytime but the fact that her mother was asleep didn’t line up.

Weren’t people supposed to be awake during the day?

Maybe she wasn’t asleep and she just didn’t see it.

Eliza was lying on a bed while staring up, her entire body bound by a thick blanket. It was soft to the touch but it served its purpose of keeping her from moving around. It was impossible to roll over onto her back, which was welcome. If she faced downward once, Eliza would undoubtedly be unable to face up and would asphyxiate to death.

She couldn’t control her unconscious behavior, as she was a human.

That’s when she realized why she woke up. She wanted more food, but more importantly, there was an uncomfortable bowel movement making itself apparent within her body. Despite her struggles, Eliza couldn’t do anything. All her attempts at unraveling the blanket were ineffective and she remained to lie there, unable to cry out for help due to her pride and unable to do anything about it herself.

Her pride didn’t last long.

The moment a warm, slushy liquid touched her body, she yelled out. She screamed, roared, howled, shouted, bellowed, squealed, wailed, yelped, shrilled, and did every variation of crying that was possible all in the span of a few seconds.

Gone was the pride of the Goddess, replaced by her innate disgust of all things repulsive. The fact that her feces were still pouring out didn’t help either. Her efforts managed to turn her sideways to see her mother having a beauty sleep.

The uncomfortable feeling started to cover most of her lower body and that was when her screams and cries grew even more frantic. It wasn’t the cry of a child. It was a pure, unadulterated scream of fear. It was the emotion of fear in its purest form, enough to give Shades a year’s worth of misery within a mere moment.

To her rescue came the handmaidens who collected her from her bed and got rid of her blanket, to her relief.

They were slow but they came.

It was at this moment that Eliza made a mental note to never mistreat these particular handmaids no matter the situation.

The warm water touching her body and cleansing her body of the vile matter relieved her. She didn’t have the strength nor will to make an issue of the rough touches that the servants employed when cleaning her.

The crying had drained her, and when she was finally placed on the bed, in yet another blanket, Eliza made another mental note to exact revenge on her mother for not answering fast enough.

Eliza appraised all three, prompting them to throw a quick glance at Evelyn, almost puzzled. Their names were Jane, Iris, and Wendy.

Evelyn had woken up already and was staring at Eliza with a half-lidded eye while she rubbed the other one with her knuckles.

Eliza raised her hand and pointed at Evelyn’s chest.

She needed more food.

…

Eliza couldn’t track how much time had passed. She knew the names of the three handmaidens and could tell them apart by face but that was about it.

Jane was a mousy girl that was still in her early twenties or late teens. She had brown hair styled in a bob cut. She had fair skin but not as pale as Evelyn’s, but it seemed that Evelyn was an exception —her shade of pale was almost lifeless. She seemed to be in charge of cleaning.

Iris was significantly taller than Jane and had glasses. Her raven hair was long and tied into a ponytail, which reached her middle back. She had an almost noble feel to her and was the most studied of the three, as she was the one that was in charge of telling her stories as well as looking after her in general.

Wendy was a blonde that had curly hair kept short and had caramel skin. It was clear that she was the one that had seen the most sun and she was in charge of tending to Evelyn. It seemed that Eliza’s mother was completely incapable of most skills that human females should possess.

There were a few select memories she had but it seemed that she couldn’t remember much of the details about her past.

She was born during winter and it was spring. The snow was melting and the temperature was getting more manageable while Iris let her have some air in the backyard. Most of the time, Eliza lied on a cart specifically designed for her but Iris often carried her, which let her get an idea of what season it was, which was the only measure of time that she had.

Anything ranging from half a month to three whole months had passed but now that she knew it was spring, she’d know when autumn came.

Being a human child was boring.

If she’d been an Arachne, she’d have already reached full maturity. If she’d been a Deus or Wise Beast, she’d be serviceable from the moment she was born. If she had been an Orc, she’d reach semi-maturity relatively faster than a human.

For a moment, Eliza berated herself.

After she realized there was no reason to do so, she stopped and closed her eyes.

She wanted to sleep again.

Thinking was tough work and human children weren't built for that.