Awkward. In the first sixty six days of little Damian’s new life, he developed a profound comprehension of what that word could mean. There was baby talk, breast feeding, and diaper changing. Of these he couldn't decide which he found to be the most awkward, but by far, the most disturbing thing about being little Damian Dagger, so far, was sleeping in his new parents bed.
“Did my little man make a stinky pee pee?” Rose might ask before changing his wet diaper. It was a rhetorical question. Fortunately, his mother did not need a reply and would promptly change him. “Oh, you made a lot of pee pee this time, didn’t you?” another rhetorical question.
Little Damian didn’t take offense to his mother's belittling. It was an appropriate way to talk to an infant, and as far as she knew, he was her possibly retarded but otherwise “perfectly healthy” newborn baby boy. She didn’t know that her baby already knew reading writing and arithmetic, nor did she suspect in the slightest that he understood exactly what her and her husband did at night. He had thought of trying to interrupt the couple, except he still wasn’t sure he could make a convincing baby cry.
Little Damian had to be cautious. The message he received said not to get caught by gods or man, and he still didn’t know how he’s supposed to keep his secret from the gods themselves. They were, as his blessing had proven, very real but that was the extent of his understanding. For all he knew, they could be omnipotent beings watching his every move, looking for any indication he retained his memories, ready to damn him for a thousand years of suffering in an instant with no trial, or they might be some kind of real life RPG skill tree that accepts gold and red beads in exchange for special abilities and stat bonuses. It could have been one, both, or neither of these things. Little Damian was ignorant.
What he did know was that no one had approached him with the intent to damn his soul for a thousand years, yet. “What the fuck is up with that anyway? Suffer for a thousand years? Isn’t that a little bit extreme?” Little Damian thought he was a decent guy in his last life and didn’t think himself capable of doing something so bad it’d warrant a thousand years of suffering. The message made it seem like it was he himself who somehow cheated to retain his memories and no longer remembers doing it. It sounded cool, but he wouldn’t have done it if he’d understood the consequences of getting caught.
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“Could the message have been a practical joke?” he wondered, “Maybe there’s some kind of humorous god out there giving people their old memories and a fake message to freak them out.”
Little Damian figured it might be something like that because there was no way he would’ve done anything, in any life, so bad he should suffer for a thousand years over it. Though, he probably would, if he could, somehow “arrange” for him to keep his memories in this world. Frankly, it seemed awesome. There were too many coincidental resemblances to the fantasy of his world for it to all be a coincidence. It was clear that they’re related, but he didn't know if this world took after the fantasy of Earth or vice a versa.
Could it be that his life was saved on Earth and what he’s experiencing now is a really high fidelity simulation he’s hooked up to? If that’s it, then the technology used would be more advanced than what he was aware existed. “Why would someone want to make me a baby in a fantasy world?” little Damian wondered, “Is this some kind of psychological test? Am I alive but brain damaged?”
His thoughts seemed completely normal considering his circumstances, but he couldn’t discount sim-theory or brain damage as possibilities. Neither could he discount the possibility that everything was as it seemed, he somehow cheated to reincarnate with his memories, and if he gets caught he’ll be sentenced to a thousand years of suffering. Little Damian had to be cautious.
“Awe, that’s a lot of stinky pee pee!” Rose cheerfully declared. “That means you’ll grow up to be big and strong, just like your bladder,” she teased, unaware her baby understood every word. He did appreciate his mother’s care. She was diligently changing his sandpaper coarse, hemp wool diaper, after all, which would have left the newborn sensitive skin scraped and rashed in mere minutes, had his mother not been so diligent about changing him.
She was also very diligent about her other parental responsibilities, like feeding, regular naps, and spending a lot of time interacting with her baby.
Little Damian didn’t want to come off as cold to his new mother, as he felt quite sympathetic to her plight. It was only a suspicion among the Daggers but apparently there was a rumor going around that he was retarded. He was pretty sure that was not true, but Rose didn’t know that. Her missunderstanding could have been easily cleared up, but without knowing what the gods are, it seemed like keeping the status quo for now was the safer choice.
To keep from being found out as an otherworldly, grown adult imposter, masquerading as this woman’s newborn baby, little Damian kept his silence, and pretended to be retarded.