The cradle
Where am I? Am I… still alive? No—I definitely died. Yet… it feels peaceful.
I exhale in relief. Then suddenly, a blinding light pierces my vision, so bright it burns.
If this is the afterlife, then I have to find Aria. Come on, move. Move. MOVE!
A shrill cry cuts through the silence. Waa—waaa— A baby's wailing echoes around me. My throat burns raw with every sound.
What is this? I can feel the air, I can feel everything! But my throat hurts… And whose baby is crying? It's unbearable. Please, make it stop!
No one responds. Are they ignoring me because I'm new?
Desperate, I force my tiny body to move. My arms rise shakily into view—and the truth crushes me.
Small. Frail. Pink.
Wait… is this what I think it is? No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no!
I've been reincarnated.
Should I be happy or sad? The universe gave me a second chance, a chance to correct my mistakes… but I don't want it. I don't need redemption. All I need is her. Even if it's hell, I'd stay with a smile as long as Aria was there.
I should end this quickly. If I kill myself, maybe I can return to her side.
But before I can cling to that thought, the air trembles.
A man enters—his presence like a lion, commanding, predatory. His very gaze forces silence upon the room, and when he speaks, his voice rolls like thunder.
"Dispose of him."
No one dares defy him. Not until a woman steps forward. She is dressed as a maid, yet her robes are fine, her bearing noble. Even I—ignorant of this world's hierarchy—know she holds power. Bowing low, her voice quivers with respect.
"Spare him, sire. He is but a child… your child, with your blood flowing in his veins."
The man's eyes narrow. "Are you challenging me?"
"N-No, never, my king," she stammers. "I only wish to honor her dying wish."
His gaze softens at those words. "…Did she suffer?"
"Yes," the maid whispers. "The pain was unbearable. But when she heard her son was healthy, she smiled with her last breath."
Silence. Then, a single command:
"Take him. Go to the treasury—take as much gold as you can carry. Leave this kingdom. Do not step foot near me, or the queen."
She does not hesitate. Scooping me into her arms, she runs. In her flight she snatches a ring from the treasury, clutches it tightly, and flees with all her strength.
Meanwhile, back in the chamber, the other maids remain frozen.
The king's cold voice cuts through the stillness.
"Where do you think you're going, spies of the first queen?"
Terror silences them. His voice grows heavy, almost rehearsed.
"Now, listen well. The second queen died giving birth. Her child was weak. The head maid rushed to summon the physician—but a mistake with the communication tool caused an explosion. Everyone inside perished. The young princess. The maids. Even the head maid."
A trembling maid blurts out, "B-but it was a boy, not a girl. That never—"
The king's glare cuts her short.
"Who is left alive to testify?"
They cannot answer.
"And one more thing," he adds darkly, drawing a blade. With a swift motion, he carves a wound across his own face. Blood runs down his cheek as flames erupt in the chamber. He staggers out of the burning room, drenched in blood, scarred forever.
That day was not remembered for the queen's death.
Nor the birth of her child.
It was remembered as the day King Eldram von Midgar received his scar.