Chapter One: The Beginning of the Third Life
Hiroto Amamiya was reborn in the world of Ramda!
Hiroto Amamiya was cursed by Reincarnation God Rodocolte!
Hiroto felt like these announcements rang out inside his head, but he couldn’t really remember. His consciousness gradually returned from a semi-comatose state that couldn’t be called awake, but also couldn’t be called sleeping.
Where am I? What’s going on? It does feel like I’m alive, at least.
But Hiroto still didn’t really understand what was happening. Even with his eyes open, all he could see was darkness and he could barely move his arms or legs. Everything felt like a dream. His entire body was surrounded in a warm fluid, and he couldn’t breathe. But it wasn’t painful. It was almost like he’d become a fish.
I don’t even want to guess, but maybe I’ve been reborn as something other than a human? It sounded possible. He has just been cursed. He might have some level of freedom as a human, but if he was born an animal or fish, he was going to be at a total loss.
Luckily, that wasn’t one particular issue he had to deal with.
He heard a voice. Not a crying voice, or an angry voice, but a gentle singing voice. It was strangely muffled, and he couldn’t pick out the words, but the emotion it carried came through loud and clear.
Love.
I see. I’m in the womb. I’m still a fetus.
The divine curse hadn’t altered the destination of his resurrection, at least. Fragments of the information from Rodocolte that had flowed into him before he was resurrected told him that this world of Ramda was a world of swords and magic. He might end up an elf or a dwarf, but it would at least be some form of intelligent life.
Does this song sound a bit Japanese to me?
Then his awareness faded again.
When he came to, he was already born.
“You’re such a good little boy, Vandal. I’m not complaining, but you can cry sometimes, if you like?” A woman was holding him, talking to him. He quietly looked up at her.
It sounds like “Vandal” is my new name, Hiroto thought. Far better than the serial number I had in Origin. And this person is my third mother. Looks like I’ve done better than Origin on this score too.
In that world, he had been sold off almost before he knew what was happening, so this seemed like a much more promising start. Not only was he lacking divine protection, but he was under a divine curse, so this seemed like a miracle.
So what environment was I born into? My mother looks like a dark elf.
The woman in front of him looked in her early 20s, with golden hair and brown skin. She was attractive, with a beautiful face, making him think he could hope to be handsome himself in the future. Her ears were clearly pointed. Vandal might have just been born into this world, but he could guess she was a dark-skinned dark elf—or a very tanned elf, maybe.
That might explain why we seem to be living in a cave, Hiroto thought. It wasn’t a cave that looked like a house, either, but just a cave. There were doors, and furs down on the floor as a kind of carpet, but it was hardly the peak of civilization. The elves he had seen in fantasy on Earth lived alongside nature, though, so maybe this was normal. The bigger problem is my body.
The warm arms of his mother enveloped his small and fragile body. He looked at her smooth, chocolate-colored skin, and then at his own small, almost useless hands.
Hands that were as white as silk.
Why am I a different color? My ears do seem to be pointed.
His mother was a dark elf, but he was pale. Maybe he was something else. He knew nothing about the biology of dark elves. They might be white when they were born and become darker as they grew up. Or maybe he wasn’t this woman’s child by birth.
“Oh? You think the difference in our color is strange, do you? You’re a smart one, Vandal, to spot that already. Don’t worry, little one. You take after your father. I’m Dalshia, and I’m definitely your mother.”
His mother—Dalshia—gave him a gentle smile, wiping Vandal’s questions away. He was mixed race, born from parents from two different races. She might be lying, of course, but he saw no reason to suspect that. Rather than wasting his time and mental capacity on that, he just accepted this love without doubt, and allowed himself to relax.
I’m actually…pretty tired….
Then Dalshia put Vandal to bed.
Vandal was Dalshia’s first child, but even at just 3 months old he was proving incredibly easy to handle.
When he was hungry, he would make a noise and tap on his own tummy, or even point at Dalshia’s chest. When he needed a diaper change, he would make similar noises and pat at his bottom.
“Yes, dear, here you go. Here comes the milk for you. You really are a smart one, Vandal,” Dalshia said, exposing her breast, lifting Vandal up, and letting him latch on. She was amazed again at how smart he seemed.
She also knew this wasn’t normal. He wasn’t just smart—he was too smart. But she couldn’t feel bad about her own child. He takes after his father. He’s a lot like him. The uncanny intellect of her child came from his father’s bloodline, that was all. The strange flashes of magical power she has been sensing from Vandal recently only reinforced that thinking. His father was a far more magically inclined race than Dalshia and the dark elves.
I’m more concerned about how he never cries or laughs, Dalshia thought. Maybe his father not being around is worrying him? She more concerned about how Vandal never seemed to laugh or cry like a normal baby. Even when her beloved baby was hungry or when she tickled him, his expression remained as placid as that of a doll. At first, she thought that he was in a bad mood, but that didn’t seem to be the case. He didn’t seem to be lacking in emotions either. She had seen him cry, but just with that same blank expression, and without making a sound.
She cast some healing magic on him when that happened, worried he might be sick, but it turned out he had just been crying because of a bad dream. He could feel things too. He laughed when she tickled him. His expression didn’t change, but his body shuddered.
But my biggest worry is when I feed him. I wonder if he doesn’t like my milk. When feeding him, he didn’t latch onto her nipple at once, but would freeze in place for a while, his eyes darting around. Eventually he would drink, but Dalshia couldn’t help but worry that he didn’t like her milk.
For Vandal, those acts that were only natural—and vital—for a baby, such as sucking on her mother’s breasts and drinking her milk, filled him with embarrassment and feelings of guilt.
It ain’t easy being a baby. Any kid should be happy and proud to have a young, pretty mother. But things became more complicated when the mind inside that kid was a guy who had lived for more than 37 years, once his past lives were totaled up. His mind was closer to that of an adult, but his body was that of a baby, making things really weird for him. He had zero experience with women, even back when he was in high school on Earth. That meant sucking on Dalshia’s nipples made him uncomfortable. His body was a baby, so it wasn’t physically turning him on, but he was embarrassed by the act itself.
I wonder what this was like for the others. My memories didn’t return in Origin until about ten months after I was born. The other resurrected in Origin might have been struggling with their mothers changing their diapers too. But I can’t keep on worrying my mom like this. I need to suck it up—literally.