Where was I?

The first thing I noticed was my feet—or rather, how small they were. That wasn’t right. My body couldn’t have shrunk just because I was burned… could it? No, that didn’t make sense. And this wasn’t a dream—I could feel everything too vividly for that.

My gaze shifted to the other side of the carriage. Two women sat there, their voices low as they chatted about something I couldn’t catch. Their attire—classic maid uniforms—left no room for doubt. Maids. But why were they here? And more importantly, why was I here?

A sharp itch crawled across my skin, and no amount of shifting could make it stop. I could still feel it—the burn, the raw pain of fire at my body. Even now, long after the flames were gone, the sensation lingered, haunting me. It was as though my skin remembered what my body no longer bore.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed one of the maids glancing at me, her brow furrowed as if I’d done something strange. Had I been squirming too much? Or maybe scratching at myself?

“So, where are we leaving this child?”

Damn. Leave? The way she said it wasn’t casual. It wasn’t vague. I replayed it in my mind to be sure. No, she was talking about me. They were talking about leaving me.

I froze, my thoughts racing. This wasn’t a misunderstanding. I could think clearly—just like my old self, only… in a body that clearly wasn’t mine. I glanced down at my hands again, small and chubby, unmistakably those of an infant. I lifted them, the sunlight from the window illuminating tiny fingers that didn’t feel like they belonged to me. To the maids, it probably looked like I was reaching to be picked up. But to me, it was something else entirely.

Reincarnation. That word slid uncomfortably into my thoughts.

Was that what this was? A dream? No, it couldn’t be.

I wanted to believe it, to convince myself that all of this was nothing more than a cruel trick of my subconscious. Maybe I was lying in a hospital bed, caught in a coma, and my mind had conjured this bizarre reality to pass the time. But no matter how much I tried to rationalize it, every detail told me otherwise.

The steady sway of the carriage beneath me, the faint creak of the wheels as they rolled over uneven terrain, the rhythmic rise and fall of my chest as I breathed—it all felt too vivid. Too tangible.

This wasn’t a dream. My heartbeat echoed in my ears, steady and undeniable, a constant reminder that this was real. All of it.

My chest tightened, but I forced myself to focus. No matter how strange this situation was, no matter how many questions I had, one thing stood out above the rest. What did the maid mean about abandoning a child in the forest?

My jaw clenched. Are you out of your goddamn minds?

"Maybe we can just leave him… you know… near a water source. For a higher chance of survival," one of the maids said, her voice disturbingly casual.

Her words sank in slowly. I wasn’t entirely sure I’d heard her right, but the way she spoke… there was no mistaking it. They were planning to abandon me. Outside. Alone. My thoughts scrambled for answers. What kind of world is this? What kind of society casually discards children in forests? This wasn’t something I could explain away as normal.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The second maid, clearly less conflicted, shot her companion a sharp glare and gave her a quick tap on the shoulder. "Are you crazy? We follow orders. Leave him in the deep forest," she said, her tone firm, almost eager, as though there was nothing unusual about her words.

"But—"

"There are no buts," the second maid said, her voice tight with fear. "You know what happens if we disobey the Duke’s orders. Do you want to end up like the last housemaid? Or worse?"

The other maid flinched, her hands trembling. "But leaving him in the deep forest… it feels cruel. Even for him."

"It's not our place to question," she snapped, though her voice wavered. "The Duke's word is law. If he says the child goes, then he goes."

I glanced at my tiny hands again. Was there something about this body, something specific, that made it dangerous to keep me alive? No… that didn’t make sense. A baby couldn’t do anything to warrant this. It seemed more likely that I—or rather, this body—was caught up in some kind of family dispute. Maybe something political or deeply personal. Either way, it wasn’t my choice, and now I was paying for it.

I had died. That much was clear now. I’d been burned alive saving a child. I could still feel the pain of the flames. And yet, here I was. Reincarnated. A second chance.

It was overwhelming, almost too much to process. But even through the confusion, a flicker of something else stirred inside me. Excitement. The absurdity of it all didn’t escape me—being reborn into a new life was impossible by any logical standard. Yet here I was, living that impossibility.

Creak.

The carriage came to an abrupt halt, jolting me forward, for a moment, I thought I saw something move—a flicker of white between the trees. But when I blinked, it was gone. But through the gap in the swaying curtain, I caught a glimpse of the coachman outside. His expression was shadowed by the angle of the light, but his words came through clearly enough.

"Get out."

There was no hesitation, just nervous glances from those three. One of the maids moved quickly, lifting me into her arms. My body betrayed me, unresponsive to even the smallest effort to resist. I could do nothing—no punches, no struggling. I was utterly helpless.

As she stepped out, the sudden burst of sunlight blinded me momentarily. When my eyes adjusted, I took in my surroundings. Trees loomed overhead, their trunks dark and ancient, their leaves tinged with shades of green I wasn’t used to seeing. It wasn’t just a forest—it was the kind of place where light struggled to break through, where silence pressed in so thickly it became oppressive.

This was no ordinary forest. It was isolated, eerily quiet, and unmistakably hostile. No one would stumble across me here. Survival seemed like an impossible dream. The odds, if I even had any, were stacked entirely against me.

The maid, the one who’d been holding me, bent down and gently set me on a patch of soft moss beneath one of the larger trees.

Her hands lingered on the blanket she’d tucked around me, as if reluctant to let go. "You didn’t deserve this… none of this is your fault."

She glanced back at the carriage, her breath hitching. "If things were different… if I were braver..." Her words broke off, and she wiped her face roughly. "I'm sorry," she said again, softer this time, before turning and walking away.

I met her gaze, and in that moment, I saw the tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t see a baby—she saw a life she was about to throw away, a life she couldn’t save.

And she wasn’t wrong. Left here, I had no chance. I wasn’t equipped to survive this. My infant body was weak, and this forest wasn’t the kind of place that forgave weakness. Still, as the thoughts churned in my mind, I felt a flicker of defiance.

I couldn’t die here. I wouldn’t. There had to be a way—a plan, a method, something I could use to survive. I didn’t know what yet, but I refused to not think of anything just to survive.

From where I lay, I could see the carriage pulling away, the coachman’s cold profile framed by the shifting curtains. It was the last human face I’d see for a while, though calling it comforting would be a stretch.

But just before they left, I heard it—a scream.

It wasn’t the kind of cry you could mistake for anything else. It was raw, desperate, the sound of someone meeting a violent end. My mind wanted to deny it, to rationalize it away. Maybe it wasn’t murder. Maybe it was something else. But no, the truth was clear in the pitch of those voices. Those two maids… they were gone.

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Hours passed.

Despite my resolve, despite all the years of experience from my previous life, my current reality was crushing. The helplessness of this infant body consumed me. Eventually, instinct took over. I cried.

Yes, me. Crying. Loud, relentless wails that echoed through the forest. I knew it was a mistake even as I did it, but my body didn’t care. Hunger, frustration, fear—it all came pouring out in a flood of noise. It didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

And then… something moved.

The ground beneath me seemed to rumble faintly as a massive figure emerged from the darkness of the forest. My cries ceased instantly, the sound strangled in my throat. My first thought was animal, but that word didn’t fit. This wasn’t just some creature. It was something far beyond that.

A giant lion. Its fur was pure white, almost radiant, with three glowing tails that whipped through the air behind it. Its eyes, sharp and predatory and... There's something more to it, but then it was locked onto me.

A beast. A monster. Or perhaps… something else entirely.

Whatever it was, it was here for me.