Good, I thought to myself, grinning inwardly.
Just as planned, my third life had started under identical circumstances, even in the very same location as before.
“Ryuto-chan!”
The one who scooped me up in her arms inside the shabby little house was a woman with golden hair and bright blue eyes.
Man, she looks young… I thought as soon as I saw her. Well, of course she does.
Simple math explained it—this was the same mother I had seen just recently, but now she was fifteen years younger.
As I stared at her openly, I couldn’t help but think, Late twenties, with a full, voluptuous figure… Honestly, she was gorgeous.
It amazed me that she’d somehow lived her life without catching the eye of some noble, without being forced into becoming a mistress. That she’d managed to marry for love, just like any ordinary woman, seemed almost miraculous.
“Happy second birthday!”
This day marked my second birthday.
Inside the crumbling log house, the table had been prepared with what they considered a feast. In truth, it was just the usual black bread, now accompanied by a simple bacon soup. But the effort was there, loud and clear. This was a celebration meticulously fashioned from their every available resource.
Neighbors had also been invited; among them, naturally, was Cordelia’s family, who lived next door.
Observing the red-haired woman tenderly cradling a tiny Cordelia, I mused, Man, she looks so young, too.
Like my mother, she was absurdly beautiful. Considering that even baby Cordelia looked so perfectly sculpted that it was hard to believe she was human, it made perfect sense that her mother would be stunning too. But even so, the reality was almost overwhelming.
Setting that thought aside, I reached out toward the black bread on the table while cradled in my mother’s arms.
“Now, now, Ryuto. It’s a little too soon for you to have solid food,” she said sweetly.
With that, still holding me, my mother began to move toward the corner of the room. As impoverished farmers, our house was predictably tiny, having only a single room. The area she headed for was separated by a curtain—a makeshift attempt to divide the room into two. In essence, it was a multipurpose space, but today it was being used as a nursing area.
My mother then took out her breast.
“Here you go, Ryuto. Time for some milk,” she murmured.
From beyond the curtain came the surprised voice of Cordelia’s mother.
“Oh my, Mrs. Maclaine? Are you still breastfeeding?”
Her question was only natural. After all, my mother was nursing a two-year-old. Typically, infants would be weaned from breast milk by their first year. I still remembered how stunned I was the first time it happened. Perhaps it had been even more of a shock before that. Being thrust into a situation where I was expected to nurse from the breast of a beautiful stranger had been overwhelming from the start.
“Yes, I am. Is there… something wrong with that?” my mother asked, her tone calm but firm.
“Well… if you put it that way, it’s strange… but not totally so, I suppose…” Cordelia’s mother mumbled, her words trailing off.
At that moment, the cries of a baby reached us. It was Cordelia’s younger brother, merely a few months old, held securely by her father.
“Oh dear,” Cordelia’s mother said. “It sounds like my little one is hungry, too.”
With that, she stepped through the curtain, exposed her breast just like my mother had, and began nursing her son.
As I nursed at my mother’s breast, I glanced over at the other woman. Catching my gaze, she chuckled playfully and said, “Oh? Ryuto, are you perhaps desiring my milk too?”
Despite her jocular tone, she exhibited no genuine seriousness. But my mother snapped back at lightning speed. “He’s not,” she declared, in a voice so forceful it left no room for argument.
“Huh?” the woman faltered, and for a moment, an awkward silence filled the air.
Still suckling, I continued to watch the scene unfold, peeking at her from the corner of my eye.
Once again, the woman smiled and, keeping her tone light, tried to joke, “So Ryuto does want—”
“He’s not interested,” my mother cut her off before she could finish, her voice sharp and final.
“Huh?”
“Ryuto only needs my milk,” she said firmly.
“Huh?”
“Ryuto… only needs… my milk,” she repeated, her words dripping with conviction.
“Huh?”
“Ryuto loves his mama. He adores me!” my mother insisted, her voice escalating in fervor. “If you don’t believe me, we can test it!”
“‘Test it?’” the woman echoed, clearly bewildered.
“He hates being held by anyone but me,” my mother continued triumphantly. “Want to try? The moment someone else picks him up, he starts crying. He can’t help it—he loves his mama too much!”
“Huh?”
Ignoring the woman’s palpable reluctance, my mother thrust me toward her.
Reflexively, the woman opened her arms and caught me in an awkward embrace.
“He’ll cry right away,” my mother said confidently.
But I didn’t cry.
Apparently, before my memories from Earth resurfaced, I had been an extremely clingy, mama-loving, stranger-shy little boy. But now, I was managing to hold it together just fine.
“He’s… not crying?” the woman said, sounding puzzled.
The moment she spoke, my mother’s face drained of all color.
“Wh-Why not?! Ryuto? Ryuto! You love Mama more than some strange woman, don’t you? You want Mama to hold you, right? So then… why?! Why aren’t you crying?! Why aren’t you screaming for Mama to come save you?!”
“Some strange woman?” the other woman repeated, blinking in confusion.
Her bewildered expression conveyed everything. Just as before, she had realized something was amiss about my mother. Still, despite everything, Cordelia’s family continued to get along with us, maintaining a neighborly relationship. They had to be quite something themselves to tolerate such eccentricities.
By now, it should be obvious: my mother harbored an unhealthy—verging on pathological—affection for me.
Without warning, she snatched me back into her arms and dashed toward the front door.
“Hey, where are you going?!” my father shouted after her.
My mother ignored him completely, bolting from the house like a startled rabbit.
“I have to take Ryuto… I have to take him to the doctor!” she cried desperately.
Just like that, she tore down the path, making a beeline for the village’s only apothecary at breakneck speed.
Honestly, witnessing her persistent, unchanging behavior was strangely reassuring.