The worst humiliation
The Emperor presented a rare herb, and with unmatched precision, Duke Helen of Everhart prepared a medicinal soup, assisted by twelve of the finest physicians.
The entire Ashford Duchy held their breath as the golden broth was carefully fed to the newborn. Even the Emperor, seated on his towering throne in the palace, in solemn silence, awaiting the outcome.
Once the child had been fed, she was left to rest alone for five hours.
In the other room, Bethany clutched Edward's hand, leaning into his chest for comfort.
"Hey, wake up," said a deep voice in a realm of endless void, where Kiyara's soul curled midair like a child in a mother's womb.
The voice stirred her slightly, but she didn't awaken.
"Wake up, child," the voice said again, its tone laced with a chilling, growling echo.
"No… just a bit more," Kiyara mumbled drowsily.
"You can't. If you don't wake up, your body will die," the voice replied firmly.
Kiyara's eyes snapped open.
'What? Die? Is it an earthquake? A war?' she thought. But all that emerged from her mouth was, "Bha… ba ba bu… blag bu bu."
Her eyes flickered open fully, and all she could see were dazzling white diamonds embedded in a grand chandelier that caught glimmers of sunlight from the open balcony.
'What the hell is wrong with this hospital? Didn't I just get into a car accident yesterday?' she thought. "Blag ba ba… bu ba bu," she babbled through her tiny lips and chubby cheeks.
Kiyara frowned, trying to piece it together. She was lying on her back, and each sound she made was strange and unintelligible. Her tiny brows furrowed as she tested her voice again.
'F** you',* she thought. "Ba-Bah."
Kiyara froze.
Her face went blank as she inhaled deeply with her tiny lungs. 'F** you. F*** you. F*** you!*' Her frustration grew as her infant body squealed in high-pitched gibberish. "Ba-bah ba-bah Ba-bah!"
Then, it hit.
A storm of memories came crashing into her like violent waves in a raging sea.
She clenched her eyes shut in agony. Her tiny limbs trembled as if her fragile body couldn't bear the weight of what was returning.
You died in a car accident. Do you remember that?
Take it. Um... I won't buy it anymore.
You came from hell.
Call my name when you find me.
My name is 003—remember that.
You need to play the character inside a different world.
Kiyara gritted her teeth—or would have, if she had any. Her fists curled tightly, her infant body convulsing under the force of the memories.
Her breath grew short and shallow. She tried to roll onto her side, desperate for relief, but each attempt ended in failure. She lay in a cradle, which rocked gently with her every movement, adding to her frustration.
Then suddenly, a cool, invisible finger touched her forehead—and just like that, the flow of memories stopped.
The connection with her past life was severed in an instant.
The mental snap left her whole body quivering.
'Why… why does it hurt so much?'
"Bahh… ba… ba," she whimpered in a high-pitched cry.
She clenched her eyes, curled her fists, and bore the agony alone, at that time all the could think of was a woman in her memories, someone familiar but yet felt very far from reach
A numb silence slowly took over her tiny body. Her limbs still shook faintly as she turned onto one side in the cradle, grasping the soft edge of the shawl beside her.
Just as sleep threatened to take her again, the silence was shattered.
The door to the room burst open, echoing with the clatter of jewelry and the sharp sound of hurried footsteps across polished marble.
"Wait, Beth!" Edward called out, chasing behind her. "Helen told us not to enter the room!"
"I heard her… I heard the sound of my child," Bethany whispered hoarsely, her gaze locked on the cradle with desperation.
Kiyara's eyelids fluttered open. They stung with fatigue as she tried to focus on the figures before her. "Na…" she cooed softly.
The entire room froze.
Edward's hand, which had been reaching to stop Bethany, paused midair. Bethany's foot hovered above the floor, arrested in motion.
'I heard the door… then why did everything fall so quiet?' Kiyara wondered.
Through the blur of tears in her eyes, two figures came into view. One had long, silken black hair cascading onto her tiny fists. The other had golden thread like hair brushing lightly against her legs as both of them leaned forward.
Kiyara blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the sight.
A warm droplet of water splashed gently onto her cheek.
She raised her tiny hand. "Ba?"
'Tears? Are… are those tears? Is someone crying for me?'
Before she could think further, a pair of trembling hands lifted her carefully, holding her close to a thudding chest.
She didn't know what was happening. She couldn't move her head. All she could hear was sobbing—soft, choked, both pained and relieved.
The sound continued as she drifted into sleep within the warmth of the embrace that held her so tightly.
'Is this heaven? Are angels crying for what I went through?'
'But it's all over now, isn't it?'
With that final thought, Kiyara closed her eyes once more.
'Just… don't leave me again.'
~______~
"So, my name is Anastasia Von Ashford?" thought the child, cradled in the lap of a woman built like a knight, draped in silk-black hair, and possessing crimson eyes as deep as rubies. The same woman everyone referred to as Duchess Ashford.
A room, if it could still be called that, stretched before Kiyara's eyes—so vast it mocked the very concept of boundaries. Even more absurd was the lavishness that defined its design.
Every surface gleamed with polished wood, adorned with intricate gold and silver carvings. The staff drifting past her eyes moved with elegance, dressed in refined maid uniforms. Sunlight streamed in from the expansive open balcony, bathing the space in warmth, while the floor shone so brightly it could double as a mirror.
Kiyara's big ruby-red eyes, a copy of Bethany's cold blooded eyes, scanned the room lazily as a soft puff escaped her lips.
"So this is where I'm supposed to play my role," she thought.
But that wasn't the real issue.
No. The true problem came with the onslaught of memories that suddenly flooded her mind.
She remembered how the floating cat had told her she must find him and call his name to reach him.
They had wasted too much time before, and the cat hadn't had the chance to explain the role she was supposed to play in this world.
But how was she supposed to do that—
—when every time she opened her mouth, all that came out was—
"Ba," she uttered flatly, eyes glazed with boredom. She'd been trying to speak properly since morning.
The room immediately froze.
Every head turned toward her with faces melting into smiles as soft as whipped cream under the sun.
It wasn't new. This happened every time she repeated the same baby syllable.
Eyes filled with adoration and affection lit up around her. Even the imposing woman who held her, the Duchess, melted like chocolate every time Kiyara made a sound.
It was sweet—what people called a parent's love for their child.
But for Kiyara, a 22-year-old woman trapped in a 2-day-old body, it was deeply embarrassing.
Still, this wasn't her real problem. No, not at all.
Her real problem was a man—a man with golden hair that shimmered like sunlight and serene blue eyes as deep as the ocean and clear as the morning sky.
Because every time that man entered the room, he brought with him chaos Kiyara wasn't emotionally prepared for.
Just as she swept her lazy gaze across the room, the large door burst open as if lightning had cracked it apart.
Kiyara shifted in Bethany's arms, curling her tiny fingers into her long black hair, making the woman smile warmly in return.
But Kiyara's gaze stayed fixed on the door, where the source of her distress had just entered with the energy of a drama queen.
Edward Ashford.
He floated in as if walking on air, his body wiggling with anticipation like a high school girl approaching her crush.
"I finished my work early today and took a ten-year leave from the royal palace!" Edward declared proudly, clapping his hands together with a radiant grin.
Bethany blinked.
"Wait, what? Ten years? And the Emperor let you?"
"Of course he didn't," Edward replied cheerfully, a metaphorical rainbow glowing behind him. "He tore my letter to shreds… but that's not my problem now, is it?"
A collective facepalm echoed through the room. Even Bethany shook her head in silence.
'This human with the IQ of a duck calls himself my father?' Kiyara thought dryly.
But what came next was the real humiliation.
Edward, still smiling, slowly removed his gloves. Then, with an unnecessary flourish, summoned a sparkling swirl of water from his fingertips, which cleansed his entire body in a magical display.
Kiyara's face paled instantly.
Her grip on Bethany's hair tightened.
With practiced grace, Edward closed the distance, lifted her gently, and—
attacked her with kisses.
Dozens of them. All over her face.
'This is the third time. The third time I've endured this public humiliation!' Kiyara screamed internally as a low, offended growl rumbled from her mouth.
With her chubby cheeks now stamped in pink lipstick marks, she looked less like a noble baby and more like a playboy who had stumbled out of a bar.
Edward finally noticed her scowl.
His expression crumpled. Tears welled in his eyes until they overflowed like rivers.
Two maids appeared instantly, placing buckets beneath him.
"Why does it feel like my daughter hates me?" he cried, sobbing dramatically.