Chapter 3 – New Life, New Problems
It's been three weeks since I woke up in this new body.
Three weeks since everything I knew—my world, my name, my strength, even my age was stripped away and replaced with this… miniature, fragile shell of a body.
I still don't know exactly how I ended up here. But after countless diaper changes, baby babbling, and what I suspect was an attempted lullaby assassination from my new mother, I've come to one irrefutable conclusion:
I've been reborn.
No, not transported. Not possessed. Not even memory fusion. Reborn. As in: tiny hands, stubby legs, and worst of all… a baby voice. Kill me.
At first, it was hard to process. I mean, one moment I was in my own world, reading Chronicles of Azam, and the next, boom bright lights, a weirdly sweet smell, and a crying voice that, embarrassingly, came from me.
I couldn't even hold up my head without it flopping around like a wet towel.
But now, three weeks in… things are getting clearer.
I've made a few observations—some comforting, others mildly terrifying.
Observation One: Language
I can understand people.
I don't know how, exactly, but over the past few weeks, the words spoken around me started to make sense. Maybe it's a system-assist thing. Maybe this body has some leftover subconscious knowledge. Or maybe reincarnation just comes with a free language pack installed by the universe.
Either way, I understand everything now. The maids, the doctors, the nobles that occasionally visit, and of course—my mother.
Observation Two: I'm a noble
Yeah. Lucky me.
Judging by the sheer size of this house—or rather, mansion—and the way everyone bows when they enter the room, I can say with 80% confidence that I'm part of a noble family. Not just any nobles either. We're talking elite tier.
The kind that doesn't just own land, they own cities.
The walls are polished marble, the chandeliers are so massive I'm surprised gravity hasn't claimed them yet, and the maids wear uniforms that probably cost more than what I earned in a year at my last job.
If this wasn't proof enough, I got my confirmation when I overheard one of the servants whisper, "Young master was born healthy. The duchess must be relieved."
So yeah, noble blood. Probably one of the high-ranking ones too. That would explain the over-the-top luxury… and the very clingy mother.
Observation Three: I have a mother. And she's… intense
Her name is Sylvia.
And let me tell you something—this woman does not do "personal space."
She's beautiful, no doubt. Long silvery-blonde hair, emerald green eyes, and a voice that would probably make most people melt with a single "my baby~."
But not me.
I've been traumatized.
In just three weeks, she has hugged me no less than 762 times. Yes, I'm keeping count. I have nothing better to do.
She baby-talks to me like I'm a stuffed toy and smothers me in kisses every time I so much as open my eyes. I get it—new mothers get attached, especially if the child's a miracle or something. But for me, someone with the mental age of a grown man?
It's humiliating.
There was one time… One time, I tried to glare at her. I thought maybe if I squinted hard enough, I could get my "menacing aura" back. You know what she did?
She squealed.
Squealed.
"Ahh! He's frowning! Look at that little pout! You're already as serious as your father~!"
Kill me.
Observation Four: I'm weak
This is, by far, the most unsettling thing.
Back in my old world—even before reincarnation—I wasn't some powerhouse. But I was fit. Healthy. Strong enough to take care of myself.
Now?
Now I struggle to lift my own arm. My legs wobble like jelly. My vision was blurry for the first two weeks, and my neck? My freaking neck couldn't even hold my head up for more than a few seconds before flopping sideways.
I've never felt this powerless in my life.
My entire existence right now is eat–sleep–cry–repeat. It's a miracle I haven't gone insane. Or maybe I already have, and this is just an elaborate fever dream.
But despite all this, I've been watching. Listening. Analyzing.
And One detail never left my attention , That is I have never seen my Father.
There's one thing I could never ignore — I've never laid eyes on my father.
Observation Five: I am Caelum Morgan
That's right. Caelum Morgan.
A name that sounds like it belongs to some divine hero or a legendary scholar but in reality, it's just me, a glorified infant stuck in a swaddle, trying not to drool when someone holds me too tight.
I only recently learned my full name. One of the maids Marin, I think—called me that while whispering to another servant in the hallway.
"Young Master Caelum will surely stand out — he's a Morgan by birth, after all."
Caelum. Morgan.
It rang a bell. A very loud, ominous bell.
The Morgan Family.
They're not just any noble household. No. They're the rulers of the South. One of the most influential bloodlines in the entire continent of Aetherion. A family so old that even ancient historians argue about their origins. Some say they descended from dragon-blooded warriors. Others claim their ancestors bargained with celestial spirits for power.
Point is they're powerful.
The kind of nobles that nobles bow to.
They own entire provinces, dictate political tides, and wield enough mana-infused weaponry to flatten a small kingdom if provoked. In the World, the Morgans were described as the "epitome of nobility." Elegant. Proud. Merciless.
If memory serves me right, they specialized in dark mana manipulation and high-pressure swordsmanship. A dangerous combination, especially when combined with their generational mana techniques.
But what I've observed so far tells a very different story from the legends.
There's something off about this branch of the Morgan family.
For all the grandeur that's spoken of them in hushed tones and noble circles, only a few members have visited Sylvia my mother since I was born. And by "visited," I mean glided in like specters, said nothing of value, looked around like they were inspecting cattle, and left as if the air offended them.
None of them acknowledged me directly. Not with a smile. Not with a word. Just a few sharp glances and muttered whispers I wasn't supposed to understand.
"A shame he was born from her." "Keep watch. If he fails to awaken… you know what must be done."
They didn't whisper it with malice. That's what disturbed me the most. It was routine to them. Cold procedure. Like they were discussing a broken heirloom that might or might not be worth repairing.
As far as I can tell, I am an unwanted variable. An anomaly. The child of a Morgan son and a commoner woman. My very existence is something they don't know how to categorize—too noble to erase without scrutiny, too impure to embrace.
And Sylvia? She's at the center of it all.
My mother warm, bright-eyed, a bit clumsy—clearly doesn't belong in this world of cloaked servants and quiet threats. She talks to me with a smile every day, tries to read old fairy tales to me with shaky pronunciation, and sings lullabies off-key like they're sacred chants.
But when she's alone… the smile dies.
She looks at the window like she expects someone to come for me. Not a visit. A claiming. Like a Morgan emissary could arrive at any moment to take me away and never bring me back.
I've caught her crying twice when she thought I was asleep.
Something tugged at my heart when I saw her like that — quietly sad when she thought no one was looking. It was the kind of sadness that didn't scream or beg for attention. It simply existed… heavy, silent, and buried behind a gentle smile.
She could be annoying at times, sure — always fussing over things, calling too often, clinging like she was afraid I'd disappear. And maybe I used to brush it off, maybe even get irritated. But in that moment, none of it mattered. Because no matter how she acted, she was still my mother — the first person who ever truly cared for me. The only one who loved me without expecting anything in return.
Seeing that quiet sorrow on her face made something inside me ache. I didn't know what had caused it, or when it started, but one thing was certain: anyone who ever made her feel like she had to hide that pain… they'd answer for it someday. Whether they meant to or not, they'd learn that her pain didn't go unnoticed. Not by me.
---------------
A/N: Guy's please make sure to add a Comment! Also share some PS for motivation!
Add Novel to Library.....
Thank You For Reading!