A baby had just been born, but the child made no sound; not a cry, nor even a whimper.
Following the rigorous process of birthing the child, the midwife was tired and pale. The newborn’s mother was equally exhausted, her face white with fear. But as they anxiously examined the baby, they found his skin healthy, and his tiny chest rising and falling with steady breaths.
“Sometimes this happens, I suppose,” the midwife murmured, astonished, as she gently checked him over.
A trembling sigh of relief escaped the mother’s lips, and her eyes softened. “If the baby’s all right, then please, let me hold it.”
The midwife gave a reassuring nod and carefully handed the child over to her. Cradling it in her arms, the mother gazed lovingly into the newborn’s face.
The baby, meanwhile, stared back at her with a grumpy expression.
Looks like it worked, he thought, letting out a silent sigh of relief.
The Great Sage had done it. He had reincarnated—memories and all—into this tiny infant’s body.
He had trusted in the magic he’d crafted himself, even though he had had doubts about its effectiveness. He had never used or tested such a spell before in all his years as the Great Sage. Discovering that it had worked brought him genuine comfort.
His newborn eyes drifted around the room, studying the midwife, the woman holding him, and the modest space they were in. Nothing unusual stood out. He hadn’t been able to choose where or to whom he’d be born. If he’d ended up in a cruel or chaotic place, there would’ve been no chance of living the peaceful life he dreamed of.
So far, his new self appeared promising.
“What should we call it? Wait! Is my child a boy or a girl?” the mother asked suddenly, blinking as the thought hit her.
“Ah! Forgive me,” the midwife replied with a startled bow. “In my surprise, I forgot to convey to you that he’s a boy.”
Good, thought the Great Sage, quietly approving. That should make things simpler, since I was male in my past life, too.
Before he could reflect further, a clamor echoed from outside the room as rapid footsteps could be heard thumping against the wooden floor.
Then, the door burst open with a crash.
“Has the baby been born?!” a loud voice boomed as a man stormed into the room. The man had a thick beard and a rugged, imposing face. The sheer panic in his expression made it obvious to the sage who he was.
That must be the father, he guessed, watching the man with calm detachment.
The man wore a finely made and expensive coat. Perhaps a sign of his noble status or some form of high rank.
“Yes, a healthy baby boy,” the midwife confirmed with a gentle smile.
“A boy, huh…” the man murmured, his gruff voice low with thought.
“So, let’s give him a name,” the mother said softly, her eyes already warm with affection. But the father held up a hand.
“Wait. First, we’ll measure his innate trait,” the father said sharply.
Innate trait? The Great Sage’s newborn mind stirred at the term.
He was fully aware of what that meant. Every human was born with a single, unique gift, an inherent aptitude granted at birth: swordsmanship, magic, or alchemy. It could indeed be identified the moment a child was born.
Historically, it was somewhat strange to check one’s innate trait before giving them a name.
A little cold, isn’t it?
Then, the mother spoke again, hesitantly. “Um… about what we discussed before… Is it too late to take it back?”
“It’s not up for discussion. The decision is final,” the father replied without even looking at her.
What are they talking about? the Great Sage wondered, a sliver of unease curling in his chest. After taking in a deep breath, he got the answer to his question when his mother spoke up.
“But… if he ends up with a useless trait, you’d throw him away in the Frazes Great Forest? How could we possibly do that?” the mother whispered, her voice trembling.
Throw me away… if I’m born with a useless trait?
The words hit him like a bucket of ice water.
If he remembered correctly, the Frazes Great Forest was a place overrun by monsters—a death sentence for anyone abandoned there. Especially a newborn. No magic. No mobility. No way to speak or defend himself.
A child dumped there wouldn’t even survive the night.
He had thought and hoped this was a decent place to be reborn. But clearly, he had been terribly and dangerously mistaken.
Who throws their child away just because of their innate trait?
Yes, it was true that some traits were considered “duds”—difficult to harness, slow to grow, or seen as unremarkable in combat or social standing. And it was certainly harder to forge a life on a path outside one’s natural gift. But still, if a person worked hard and remained dedicated and wise, then they could overcome almost anything. The Great Sage had proven that in his previous life. And now, he was beginning to understand that this new world he’d stepped into had a darker undercurrent than he’d expected.
To give up on a child’s entire future just because of a so-called “useless” trait—what kind of parent does that? The Great Sage wanted to shout, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
Unfortunately, in the body of a newborn, all he could do was gurgle out a helpless ah or oooh.
“It can’t be helped,” the father said flatly, folding his arms. “In our household, it is an unbroken tradition that the firstborn son must inherit the family name and all that comes with it. We cannot allow a child with a useless trait to take on that role. If he turns out to be one of them, we’ll declare him stillborn and leave him in the Frazes Great Forest.”