The darkness I'd hoped would last forever turned out to be temporary.
At first, I thought that after getting slammed by that truck (more like a fighter jet with rocket engines), my consciousness would just... shut off for good.
Nothing but emptiness.
No pain.
No sound.
No me.
But I was wrong.
Like cracks in a dark wall, awareness started seeping back in. Slowly, the darkness shattered.
There was light—not the gentle kind like sunlight, but this harsh, blinding light that stabbed right through my eyes. I wanted to blink to adjust my focus, but my eyelids felt heavy and sticky.
Even just opening and closing my eyes felt like it took incredible effort.
Along with that light, sounds started filtering into my ears. Weird, muffled, echoing like I was underwater. There was this soft, high voice, full of love. Then another voice answered, deep and heavy, like a grown man.
I couldn't understand what they were saying; just foreign mumbling, with a rhythm like language, but not any language I knew.
This primitive urge to move my body started creeping in. I wanted to move my hand. Just to make sure I still had one.
But my body refused.
My muscles were weak, my coordination was shot, and all I managed were these random, uncontrolled movements. My hand lifted halfway, then flopped back down like a little fish stranded on dry land.
And then, before I could stop it, this sound exploded from my throat.
"Waaa... waaaah!"
I froze in shock.
Oh no. Was that... my voice?
No, not my voice. I mean, not the voice that should be coming from my throat. I wanted to say "help" or at least "what's happening," but all that came out was baby crying.
The realization hit me like a hard slap.
This body... wasn't mine.
And before I could fully process that horror, this new reality was already dragging me in mercilessly, forcing me into a routine I'd never imagined before.
...
The days that followed became a simple cycle that was mentally exhausting.
My life now consisted of: crying when hungry, nursing until full, sleeping deeply, then waking up to repeat the same cycle. That was it. My complex life had been reduced to basic biological routines.
Me, who used to be able to walk, talk, and plan my life, could now only scream when hungry and wet.
The worst part wasn't the physical helplessness—it was the soul-gnawing uncertainty.
I thought at first this was a nightmare. I kept waiting to wake up in my room, hear my phone alarm at six AM, or at least hear the neighbor's motorcycle.
But no.
Every time I opened my eyes, all I saw were the giant faces of two strangers looking at me with pure love. The face of a beautiful woman with long, light-blue hair, pale skin, and gentle eyes; and the face of a man with a strong jaw and soft gaze.
Slowly, the impossible truth I could no longer deny hit me with full force.
They were... my parents?
Oh my God. I really was a baby now.
But as soon as that conclusion formed, my brain immediately rebelled. It felt like there was some defense mechanism screaming in my head, trying to protect me from a reality too absurd to accept.
No, this can't be happening, I thought stubbornly.
This has to be just a dream.
"There's no way I could be reborn, right? There's no such thing in this world anyway."
Yeah, that's gotta be it... I tried to convince myself. "Of course I'm just dreaming. This must be some kind of subconscious dream before dying."
And finally, desperately, "Just wait, I'll wake up soon, right?"
But day after day passed with cruel consistency, forcing reality into my brain like water soaking into a sponge.
Night turned to day, day turned to night. hard to tell in this monotonous routine.
I started to realize this wasn't a dream.
I could feel my stomach twisting from hunger with painful intensity. I could feel the cold when that thin blanket slipped off, making my tiny body shiver. I could feel the warmth of the woman I assumed was my mother when she held me tight, her heartbeat soothing.
It was all too real, too detailed, too consistent to be just a dream.
So, like it or not, I had to accept that bitter, impossible reality.
I died.
Got hit by that crazy truck speeding through that intersection, and now... I was reborn.
Reincarnation.
A word that sounds cool in novels and anime, full of adventure and magical powers.
But reality?
Damn, this sucked so bad. You know what it's like being a baby? You want to talk, but all that comes out is this shrill crying you can't even control. You want to walk, but your leg muscles can't even support your own weight. You want to eat something other than milk that tastes the same every time, but your body can't even digest rice yet.
This wasn't a hopeful new life.
This was prison!
And just when I was starting to resign myself to my prisoner status as a baby, fate seemed to decide that wasn't enough to test the limits of my sanity.
There was another surprise, even more earth-shattering, that came slowly as I began to understand their language.
I don't know exactly how I realized it... maybe because baby brains are designed to absorb language quickly.
Imagine. every day I heard these two people chattering above my head with soft, loving voices. At first just empty sounds without meaning, but gradually, patterns started emerging that I could recognize.
My brain somehow seemed to absorb their language slowly but surely.
And one day, like a lightning flash illuminating darkness, I heard it clearly.
The words that came from the mouth of the man I called father: "...Daddy's beautiful little princess."
The blood in my veins seemed to stop flowing.
I froze completely, my gaze empty and my tiny breath stopping for a moment.
Princess? No, maybe I misheard. Maybe their language had a different meaning.
But then my mother repeated it with a sweet voice I couldn't misinterpret, "Yes, my sweet little princess..."
That word echoed in my head like a death knell.
Princess.
They were calling me princess.
I... a grown man who died getting hit by a truck. now...
Had become a baby girl?
Did the gods make a mistake when they reincarnated me?
Once again, my mental defense mechanism tried to save what was left of my sanity by any means necessary. I refused hard.
"No, impossible. Maybe their language is wrong. Maybe 'princess' means something else here. Maybe they call all babies that regardless of gender."
But reality never wants to negotiate with empty hope.
Evidence after evidence kept slapping me mercilessly. Every morning, my body was wrapped in clothes that made my masculine side scream—mini dresses in pink or white, complete with delicate lace.
My mother would put a little ribbon on my head while saying, "So cute like a doll, my perfect little princess."
Each compliment felt like a nail being hammered into the coffin of my old identity, definitive confirmation I could no longer deny.
And then came the most devastating moment of truth.
When I was carried in front of the big mirror in the room, I finally saw the reflection that would change everything. That was me. A baby face with chubby, rosy cheeks, big sparkling eyes with long eyelashes, tiny heart-shaped lips. Thin, soft light blue hair covering my nearly bald, almost shiny head.
Even without understanding baby anatomy, there was no mistaking it: I was indeed a baby girl.
I wanted to scream in frustration. I wanted to shout angrily at whatever gods were in the sky.
"WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS?"
But this tiny body could only let out a soft whimper that sounded pitiful.
So ironic a grown man trapped in a baby girl's body, unable to properly express his anger.
So it wasn't just ordinary reincarnation, but I'd also undergone complete gender transformation. Me, who used to be a total guy with all the masculinity that came with it, now trapped in the tiny, helpless body of a baby girl.
I stared blankly at the bedroom ceiling, searching for answers in the emptiness above.
Was this a joke, God? Was this karma for all those harsh comments I used to write on social media?
Of course, there were no answers. My anger was useless, just echoing inside my own skull.
Since there was nothing else I could do but surrender, I slowly started adapting.
Time kept passing in a strange, blurry way. I didn't know exactly how long—weeks? Months? My sleep and wake cycles were too chaotic to be a time reference.
But one thing was certain: I slowly began accepting reality, even reluctantly.
Yeah, I was female now.
And there was nothing I could do to change that fact.
And it was precisely in that gradual acceptance that I began to notice there were other things far more important to pay attention to.
Between the monotonous eat-sleep cycles that nearly drove me crazy, I started observing my new world more carefully.
The first clue that this wasn't an ordinary world came from conversations I accidentally overheard.
Sometimes, when I pretended to sleep with my eyes squeezed shut, I heard my parents talking in soft, careful voices.
"Thank goodness tonight's patrol was safe. No 'Symptoms' detected in our sector," Dad said with a relieved tone.
"Yeah, but security's been increased again this week. We need to be more careful," Mom replied with a sigh.
And most disturbing, "I just hope this child doesn't inherit dangerous Talents like you, honey."
I didn't understand all the context of their conversation, but there were key words that stuck in my brain like permanent tattoos: Symptoms. Talents. Patrol. Sector.
All those terms sounded foreign yet familiar, like terminology from science fiction or fantasy novels I'd read before.
Confirmation that my suspicions were right came from what I managed to see through my bedroom window.
From my baby bed, sometimes I witnessed scenes that couldn't possibly exist in my old world. Flashes of electric blue light piercing the night sky in perfect geometric patterns. Flying objects shaped like futuristic fighter jets, moving faster than anything I'd ever seen.
Even the fictional aircraft in my old favorite games felt slow by comparison.
Their movement was nearly soundless, like giant metal owls.
All those strange details came together into one conclusion that shook the foundation of my understanding. I hadn't just been reborn as a baby girl—I'd been thrown into a completely different world, a world with technology that clearly surpassed Earth.
And there I was, lying in this baby bed, only able to observe with clear eyes and a body that couldn't do anything, trying to understand the absurd fate that had befallen me.