Anna's first thought after dying was simple.
So this is hell.
Not because of fire. Not because of demons.
Because she couldn't move.
She couldn't speak.
She couldn't even scratch her own face when it itched like a curse.
And worst of all…
She was forced to watch a grown woman smile at her lovingly while she lay there like a useless sack of flesh, drooling on herself like a broken faucet.
The mighty Anastasia, aka Anna (in current life), former underground queen of the streets, the woman who had made grown men kneel without raising her voice…
Had reincarnated into a baby.
A baby who pooped herself with no shame.
A baby who cried when hungry.
A baby whose entire daily schedule was:
Eat. Sleep. Cry. Poop. Repeat.
If someone had told her on Earth that her second life would begin with her losing every ounce of dignity she had, she would've shot them and saved herself the trouble.
But here she was.
Alive again.
And trapped in a body that couldn't even sit up properly.
She remembered everything. Every betrayal. Every bullet. Every deal that ended in blood. Every face that smiled at her before stabbing her in the back.
And now?
Now she was staring at a wooden ceiling while someone cooed at her like she was a pet.
Anna swore that if this world was testing her, then it was doing an excellent job.
Because she had never wanted to kill someone so badly… as she did when she woke up at midnight covered in her own filth.
*
The first months were torture disguised as innocence.
She couldn't control her arms.
Couldn't control her legs.
Couldn't even control her bladder.
There were nights when she woke up soaked, cold, and furious, and the only thing she could do was stare at the darkness and silently promise revenge against whatever cosmic bastard had done this to her.
God, Fate, the Universe… I don't care who you are.
When I grow up, I'll find you.
But time moved forward regardless of her pride.
Days melted into weeks. Weeks became months. Her senses sharpened, her muscles slowly obeyed, and her eyes began to see more than blurry shapes.
And that was when Anna realized something.
This world was wrong.
Not wrong in a bad way.
Wrong in a way that made her heart beat faster.
Because one afternoon, while her mother spoke to someone near the doorway, Anna saw a woman lift her hand…
And a small flame appeared above her palm.
It floated like a living thing.
Dancing.
Spinning.
Obeying.
No matches. No oil. No trick.
Just a flame born from nothing.
Anna froze in her crib, eyes wide.
The woman casually extinguished it as if it was normal, as if it wasn't rewriting reality.
And that was when Anna understood the truth.
This wasn't Earth.
This wasn't even close.
This was a world where the impossible was a daily habit.
A fantasy world where magic existed.
*
The language came next.
At first, it was noise. A stream of strange syllables that meant nothing.
But Anna had been trained by life itself. She had survived back-alley politics, interrogations, and negotiations with ruthless men and women who would cut your tongue out if you spoke wrong.
Learning a language?
That was easy.
Her brain understood long before her mouth could cooperate.
By seven months, she could mumble a few basic words.
By one year, she could understand full conversations.
By one year and five months, she could form sentences.
Though it still annoyed her that her mouth refused to pronounce certain words cleanly.
She could plan like a king in her head…
But sounded like a drunk toddler out loud.
Humiliating.
Still, she listened.
She learned.
She observed.
And by the time she turned three, Anna had already figured out the most important rule of this world: Power wasn't earned through money.
It was earned through magic.
Her mother's bedtime stories weren't fairy tales.
They were warnings.
Forests filled with monsters that ate travelers whole.
Mountains where beasts hunted like kings.
People who could strengthen their bodies with mana until they could crush stone with their bare hands.
People who could extend their lifespan for decades just by cultivating their souls.
This world wasn't civilized.
It was simply organized brutality.
The strong lived like gods.
The weak lived like ants.
And Anna had spent an entire lifetime on Earth learning what happened to ants.
*
Her new family was warm.
That part surprised her.
She expected coldness. Distance. The kind of household where love was traded like currency.
Instead, she was given affection so freely it almost made her uncomfortable.
Her father, Philip, was a merchant.
A successful one.
A woman with sharp eyes and a calm smile, the kind of person who could sell you a knife while convincing you it was a gift.
she wasn't born rich. she wasn't born noble.
she had been adopted by a wealthy merchant two decades ago, and through patience, intelligence, and sheer endurance, she climbed up the ladder.
Anna respected that.
Because Philip wasn't strong.
Not magically.
But she was dangerous in a quieter way.
Her mother, Clarissa, was gentle, elegant, and far too kind for a world like this.
She came from a wealthy family, the kind of family that would never dirty their hands but would smile while others did it for them.
And then there was Leslie-Her older sister.
Annoyingly cheerful. Annoyingly caring.
The type of girl who would hug her too tightly and act like she was the most precious thing in the world.
Anna didn't understand her at first.
But over three years, something changed.
She stopped thinking of them as "this body's family."
And started thinking of them as…
Hers.
Not because of blood.
Because they treated her like she belonged.
And in Anna's first life, belonging was something you had to buy with violence.
Here?
It was simply given.
*
Still, love didn't change reality.
Philip had money, but money meant little in a world ruled by mana.
In this society, merchants could be rich.
But they still bowed.
They still lowered their heads.
Because above them were nobles, families blessed with talent, born with magic in their veins like divine inheritance.
And worse than nobles were the gifted commoners, the freaks of nature.
The monsters born in dirty villages who awakened power and rose like storms, stepping on everyone who stood in their way.
Those people didn't need money.
They were money.
They were the law.
And Philip?
Philip was just a man trying to survive between wolves.
So he taught her family the only philosophy that kept weak people alive.
Be polite.
Be humble.
Know when to step back.
Know when to bow.
Anna hated that lesson.
But she understood it.
Because on Earth, she had learned the hard way that pride was a luxury.
And the dead didn't get to feel insulted.
*
Kamenka Village was where they lived.
A quiet little settlement in Grivino Province, inside the Volgrad Kingdom.
Less than three thousand people.
No nobles.
No great warriors.
Just farmers, hunters, merchants, and families praying every day that monsters stayed in the forest.
The village sat like a candle in the middle of the wilderness.
Surrounded by mountains.
Wrapped by endless trees.
And beyond that?
Unknown dangers.
It was peaceful.
But Anna knew what peace meant.
It meant temporary.
It meant the storm simply hadn't arrived yet.
*
That morning, the sun was bright, and the wind smelled like grass and soil.
Clarissa was outside, hanging fresh clothes on a line, humming softly like the world wasn't filled with creatures that could rip humans in half.
Anna ran behind her on clumsy little legs, panting slightly, her small fists clenched with determination.
She looked ridiculous.
And she hated that.
But she didn't care.
Because there was only one thing on her mind.
The same thing that had been on her mind since she saw that flame floating above a woman's palm.
She tugged her sleeve. "Mama!"
Clarissa turned, smiling down at her. "Yes, Anna?"
She swallowed, trying to force her childish tongue to obey her.
"When… can I learn magic?"
Her voice came out slightly slurred, too soft, too innocent.
But her eyes weren't innocent.
Her eyes were the eyes of someone who had already died once.
Clarissa's smile didn't vanish, but it weakened slightly.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Something closer to hesitation.
Like she had been waiting for this question.
Anna saw that tiny pause, and her heart sank.
Adults always paused before delivering bad news.
She turned back to the clothesline, clipping a shirt with careful fingers.
"Anna," she said gently, "you don't need to worry about that right now."
She frowned. "But I want to."
"You should focus on your writing lessons first. And your reading. Leslie is already ahead of you."
Anna's mouth tightened.
She hated being treated like a child.
She hated being delayed.
On Earth, delay was death.
She stepped closer, voice sharper despite her toddler tone. "I'm trying! I'm doing it!"
Clarissa finally stopped.
She turned fully toward her, her expression calm but serious, as if she was about to explain how the world really worked.
She crouched down so their eyes were level.
Anna held her breath.
Clarissa exhaled slowly. "All right," she said. "I'll tell you."
Her voice softened, but her words carried weight. "Magic is something people can train. You can work hard. You can build connections. You can find opportunities. There are ways to improve."
Anna's eyes brightened.
Of course.
Of course, there were ways.
This was a world of power. Power always had a price.
She could pay any price.
Clarissa's gaze sharpened slightly, like a mother trying to prepare her son for pain.
"But Anna… no matter how many ways there are to improve…"
She paused.
And Anna felt something cold coil in her stomach.
"None of them can fix bad natural talent."
Silence fell between them.
Even the wind seemed to slow.
Clarissa continued quietly, "In this world, many people's fate is decided before they even take their first step."
Her voice became bitter, not at Anna, but at reality itself. "A person born with poor talent can spend their whole life struggling… and still never reach the level of someone born blessed who doesn't even try."
Anna stared at her.
Her small hands clenched into fists.
Her chest tightened.
Not because she didn't understand.
Because she understood too well.
On Earth, it was money.
Here, it was magic.
Different currency.
Same cruel world.
Anna's lips parted slightly.
"So what about me?" she asked, voice quiet.
Clarissa didn't answer immediately.
And that silence told her everything.
Anna's eyes darkened.