Life as the youngest in a rich household wasn't all silver spoons and soft pillows. It was war.
Not the sword-and-blood kind. No. This was the kind where three older sisters declared me their personal entertainment.
And I… their helpless baby brother, couldn't fight back.
Or so they thought.
---
It started one morning when Clara burst into the nursery with a wooden spoon like a battle flag.
"Today's training!" she announced, standing proudly.
I blinked at her, chewing on a stuffed bunny.
"Training for what?" Lina asked, still half-asleep with her hair in a mess.
"Training Zackie, duh! He's a prodigy magician! We have to test his limits!" Clara slammed the spoon against the floor like a general rallying her troops.
"Yeah!" Lina's bedhead bobbed in agreement. "Let's make him float a pillow!"
I froze. My stuffed bunny dangled from my mouth.
Pillow?
These maniacs were serious.
---
Five minutes later, I was strapped into what they called "the testing chair."
(It was really just a highchair, but they decorated it with ribbons and drew scary faces on the tray.)
Clara slammed a pillow onto the tray. "Now, Zackie! Make it fly!"
I blinked. The pillow weighed more than me.
"C'mon, little bro!" Lina cheered.
I sighed internally. Well… might as well try.
I focused. My tiny hand trembled. The pillow twitched. For a moment, it really did look like it might float—
THUMP!
The pillow fell forward. Right on my face.
"Mmfhh!!"
"ZACKIE!!" Clara screamed. "The pillow tried to eat him!!"
"Quick, rescue mission!!" Lina yanked it off dramatically, scooping me into her arms like I'd survived a battlefield.
I coughed, glaring at both of them in pure baby rage.
This was abuse.
---
Later that week, they decided to "train" me again. This time with a toy ball.
Clara rolled it across the floor. "Make it come back, Zackie!"
I concentrated. The ball shook, wobbled, then rolled backwards—
Straight into Clara's foot.
"OW! HE ATTACKED ME!!" she cried, hopping around the room.
"It's a rebellion!!" Lina gasped dramatically, pointing at me like I was some kind of evil overlord.
Elena walked in right then, holding a book. She froze, adjusting her glasses at the sight of Clara clutching her foot, Lina screaming about rebellion, and me sitting in the crib with the most innocent expression I could muster.
"…Idiots," she muttered, leaving without another word.
---
The pinnacle of baby comedy, however, came with the infamous Bottle Siege.
One afternoon, I was peacefully drinking from my bottle when Lina decided it was "time for a challenge."
She leaned over. "Okay, Zackie… if you're really a genius, make your bottle float while you drink."
Clara gasped. "That's brilliant!!"
I nearly choked. Drink and levitate at the same time? Did they think I was a circus act?
But of course, they wouldn't let me refuse.
I concentrated, cheeks puffing, trying to lift the bottle. It floated. Just a little.
"Yes!!" Clara cheered—
PLOP!
The milk splashed all over her fancy dress.
"ZACKIE, YOU TRAITOR!!!" Clara shrieked.
I giggled uncontrollably, milk dripping from my chin.
That was the first time my laughter filled the room louder than theirs.
---
From then on, my sisters had two titles for me:
Baby Brother (when they wanted to cuddle me)
Tiny Menace (when I soaked them in milk or threw a toy ball at their heads by accident… or maybe on purpose).
And I… began to realize something.
Even if this world was full of mysteries and regrets waiting to be solved…
Even if I still carried that smile in my heart…
I wasn't alone anymore.
For the first time since my death, I laughed.