Karl watched the scene unfold in silence, listening closely. He heard a man's voice.
The man — with black hair and crimson eyes — was speaking to the servant who held Karl.
The servant spoke hesitantly.
"Yes, my lord," the servant nodded nervously.
She placed Karl on the bed beside his twin brother.
Seeing this, the crimson-eyed man stepped forward toward where the twins lay.
"…"
When he reached them, the crimson-eyed man fell silent as he looked at the newborns.
The first twin looked like him: black hair and green eyes, like their mother's.
Then his gaze shifted to the second twin.
The crimson-eyed man narrowed his eyes.
Completely different — this child had bright blue eyes and silver-white hair.
He addressed the servant while staring at the pale-haired infant.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice cold. The servant answered hurriedly, frightened.
"Y-your child, my lord—"
"No." The man interrupted sharply.
As if struck by a heavy weight, the servant suddenly felt intense pressure bearing down on her and dropped to her knees.
"I-I'm sorry, my lord!" the servant's voice trembled; she nearly fainted. Just then another voice cut in.
"What's going on?" it asked — soft but hoarse with exhaustion.
The man turned toward the sound and saw his wife leaning weakly on the bed.
"Milea, this child… has an abnormality. He is defective," the man said without emotion.
Milea froze. After a short pause she stammered,
"W-what do you mean?"
"…" He remained silent.
"No — my child cannot be defective!" Milea's voice shook as she looked toward the bed where her babies lay.
She saw the white-haired infant looking back at her; Milea's eyes trembled, her heart raced, and tears began to fall.
The man spoke again.
"He is defective, so I will end his life," he said cruelly.
Milea, crying, shouted in anger.
"Defective? How can you say that!?"
"Just because his hair and eyes are different, you call him defective, Mikael!?" she continued.
Mikael shook his head and spoke in a low voice.
"No — that's not what I mean. He has no mana core," Mikael said.
"What!!" Milea exclaimed.
"…"
"Impossible…"
Milea fell silent again, stunned by the idea that her child lacked a mana core. Even so, she was furious at her husband for wanting to kill their child.
"Milea, I know this will hurt you, but I will not have such a defective child," Mikael said.
"He will tarnish our family's reputation," he added.
Milea's eyes widened.
"!!"
"So I will kill him," Mikael said coldly, turning his gaze back to the child.
Mikael began walking toward the infant. Milea screamed.
"Wait! Don't kill him, please!"
Milea cried out desperately, trying to stop Mikael from approaching the child.
Mikael paused and looked at his wife.
"Why? That child is a disgrace, Milea."
"If you kill him, I will never forgive you, Mikael!" Milea shouted.
Mikael raised an eyebrow and said,
"This is for the family's sake, Milea."
Hearing that, Milea's anger flared even more.
"You mean reputation is more important than your own child!?" she yelled.
"Yes," Mikael said flatly. "Reputation is more important than this child. The child is defective — what use is he?"
"Mikael!!" Milea screamed. She tried to get up but was held back by a maid beside her.
"Madam! A woman who has just given birth must not move!"
"I don't care!" Milea snapped. "I will deal with that heartless man!"
Mikael opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a baby began to cry. He and Milea — who was struggling to stand — both looked toward the source of the sound.
---
(POV: KARL)
…
Hearing the whole conversation from start to finish, I recoiled in fear.
W-what does he mean he'll kill me!? Weren't I supposed to be in heaven? Why am I a baby instead!?
I wondered what was happening. I couldn't process how things had moved so fast — from dying to suddenly being here.
I squirmed in panic, but my body would not obey.
No way he's going to kill me just because I'm "defective," right? And I literally just died like an idiot!! I screamed inside.
As I writhed trying to control my body, a realization struck me.
Zizzt!
It felt like lightning struck my head.
Suddenly I recognized something I'd seen in so many novels I'd read before.
W-wait a minute. Have I reincarnated into another world — like those harem protagonists with a system?
I looked around. The man and woman were still arguing.
First things first — solve this problem.
I nodded inwardly, still shocked that I had reincarnated into another world.
Karl watched the woman — my mother in this life — block the man from killing me.
Thank you, unknown woman… I whispered softly.
Watching her continue to defend me, I asked myself: Is she my mother in this world?
She desperately fought to keep me alive. The servant beside me watched in silence, then looked at me with pity. Naturally, that made me angry.
Why are you looking at me like that, huh!
I snapped inwardly because I hated being pitied.
Perhaps my infant body mirrored my sour mood, because suddenly a tear welled at the corner of my eye and I began to cry.
"Huh…?"
From a single tear, my crying escalated until I was sobbing loudly and shedding many tears.
What? Why am I crying? I thought.
A 26-year-old man turned into a baby crying!? No way!
I tried to stop — my pride as an adult man was at stake.
But my body wouldn't listen.
Why won't it stop!?
The servant beside me tried to soothe me, but I kept crying.
"Calm down, young master," the servant said. But right after she spoke, another voice interrupted.
"Do not call him young master," Mikael said. He continued,
"He is not my child, and I will kill him."
"M-my apologies, Your Grace," the servant bowed her head.
"Give him to me."
"No!" Milea interrupted. "I will not let you kill him!"
Then Milea looked at the servant holding me.
"Give him to me now!"
The servant hesitated, glancing fearfully between the king and queen she served. She didn't know whom to obey.
"I said, give him to me!" Milea demanded.
"B-b-but—"
"That's an order!" she snapped.
"V-very well, my lady." The servant handed me to Milea and stepped back.
Cradled in Milea's arms, I finally stopped crying from exhaustion. I looked up at the woman holding me.
One word came to mind to describe her.
Beautiful.
But perhaps because I was worn out from crying, I felt sleepy.
Hah… Seriously, getting tired just from crying a bit… I thought sourly. My pride was long gone.
My eyes grew heavy. After gazing at the woman holding me one last time, I drifted off to sleep.
Thank you for protecting me… Mother.
.
.