'What... is this?'

The last thing I had held was definitely the hilt of the beloved sword I had wielded for so long. But the sensation against my palm now was strange.

Soft and squishy.

Yes, soft and squishy. How long had it been since I had felt anything like this in my hand?

“Lady Arian, really?!”

I tried to look around, unable to make any sense of the situation, but I could barely see. This was different from the darkness that had swallowed my vision just before death... Light shimmered somewhere, but I couldn't make anything out.

“Aah...”

I opened my mouth to speak, but even that wouldn't go as I intended. Of all the helplessness I had experienced in my life, this was the strangest.

'I'm not dead.'

Amid that helplessness, I could at least tell that much.

I had no idea what had happened, but I wasn't dead. Why? The reason didn't matter. I had been certain I was dead, yet I had survived. Surely that called for a roar of joy, at the very least.

“Waaaaah!”

I had meant to laugh out loud. But what burst from my wide-open mouth wasn't laughter. It was a cry. No, why? Bewildered, I tried to stop crying, but once the wailing began, I couldn't stop it at will.

“Wah! Wah! Waaaaah!”

Had I always been capable of bawling like this? The hot tears I had shed when my father died decades ago had been the last tears of my life.

'Well, I suppose I could cry for joy after coming back from the dead...'

But I didn't want to cry like such a baby. That was what I thought, yet my body still refused to obey me.

“Oh my, listen to him cry...!”

My own uncontrollable sobbing and wailing left my ears ringing. Then another voice drew close.

It was heavy with exhaustion, yet gentle and soft. I couldn't explain exactly why, but simply hearing it put my heart at ease.

The crying that hadn't stopped no matter how desperately I wished it would began to subside at the sound of that voice.

'Who is that?'

To think a voice could stir my emotions so deeply. I strained my eyes, wanting to see the speaker's face, but even that wouldn't work. Tears poured from eyes that could barely see to begin with, and watery light shimmered before me.

“Ahaha.”

The lovely voice laughed. At the same time, warmth enveloped my body. In that instant, the crying that had hovered on the verge of stopping, the crying I couldn't possibly stop by will alone, ceased entirely.

“I'm your mommy.”

The soft voice tickled my ears. A hand stroked my body with the care one might take in handling a fragile glass ornament. The touch, the voice—everything shook me to my core.

'Mom... my?'

Was this a dream? Or was this my life flashing before my eyes, as people said happened before death? I didn't know. My sight was poor, and the voice in my ears was so very gentle. My mind grew hazy, as though I were about to fall asleep.

'Mommy?'

Had that word ever sounded so warm?

In my confusion, something lightly brushed my nose. I moved my uncooperative hand and caught it.

“Oh!”

An exclamation mingled with laughter reached me.

“Seril, look at him! He's holding my finger again!”

Amid that innocent laughter, I worked my fingers as hard as I could. Through touch, I wanted to assure myself that this was neither a dream nor my life flashing before my eyes.

“Kyle.”

As I busily squeezed with my fingers, a voice filled with love whispered in my ear.

“That's your name. Kyle Alastor.”

'What?'

What had she just said?

“Wah...”

What was my name?

* * *

It seemed I had been reincarnated.

Raikal, the Sword Demon.

No, Kyle Alastor only accepted that fact several days after his birth.

Even after accepting it, he spent a long time pondering it.

How could something like this happen?

He had never seriously considered what happened to people after they died. But he knew, at least, that being born as an entirely different person after death, with every memory of a previous life intact, wasn't “normal.”

'A good thing's a good thing.'

Thinking about it wouldn't produce a clear answer. For the time being, Kyle decided to leave it at that.

Besides, a newborn's body was far too inconvenient for such serious contemplation.

He could barely see what was in front of him. Even if he opened his mouth, he couldn't form proper words. Nor could he move his arms and legs properly.

Whenever he tried to think things through, his mind kept growing hazy, his eyes closed on their own, and he fell asleep. On top of that, his damn stomach got hungry at all hours, and whenever he opened his mouth, cries demanding food came out all by themselves.

The most humiliating thing was...

“...”

It was already in the past. What pleasure was there in revisiting the shame of his life? Kyle squirmed in his cradle.

He thought about all sorts of things. Accepted reality. Slept, ate, and shat. And before he knew it, Kyle was a year old.

“How can you be so adorable?”

Leaning over the cradle, Arian giggled and pressed a finger into Kyle's plump cheek.

Arian Alastor.

Kyle's mother.

For Kyle, who retained every memory of his past life, she was the person hardest to accept. He hadn't been able to see well immediately after birth, but at some point, he had begun to see her face clearly.

Arian was a beautiful woman. Her red hair was lustrous and luxuriant, and her golden eyes sparkled like jewels. Her skin was like white jade, and so on and so forth. Every description that came to mind at the word “beauty” suited Arian.

Kyle couldn't remember his mother from his previous life as Raikal, the Sword Demon. She had been a prostitute who followed the mercenary company. As a result, Kyle had a sibling or two in the company, and probably another older brother or two somewhere out in the world.

'Not that I ever thought of them as siblings.'

His father hadn't loved his mother. His mother hadn't loved his father, or Raikal, either. In that sense, Raikal's mother had been a true professional.

'Honestly, I barely remember her.'

Had I been about three when my mother died? I had been too young to remember much. But his father hadn't cried, and neither had Raikal.

Remembering all that history, Raikal—Kyle—found it terribly difficult to accept Arian as his “mother.”

“Peekaboo!”

But whether her newborn found it difficult to accept his mother as his mother or not, Arian was kind. She never left Kyle's side, talking to him and playing with him using all sorts of toys.

Even now, it was the same. With Arian repeatedly calling out “Peekaboo!” before him, Kyle smiled for the moment. Only his body was that of a baby, but he wanted to meet Arian's expectations when she was trying so hard.

He felt he ought to.

'Just give up.'

Returning to the thought he had every day at times like this, Kyle let his awareness slip away.

It was a defense mechanism he had devised to protect his mind from the erosion of his dignity.

“Abububu!”

He set the Sword Demon's identity far aside and acted on the impulses of a one-year-old baby.

* * *

Though this was her first time giving birth and raising a child, Arian had thought it from early on.

'My son must be a genius.'

Every mother had that thought at least once after having a child, but Arian never wavered in her conviction.

“Young Master Kyle must be a genius.”

And not merely because every servant in the manor said so in unison.

The adorable strength with which he had gripped her finger when he was first born. The eyes that had stared intently at his mommy's face even as he wailed. Kyle had been anything but ordinary from birth.

“Ex... cuse... meee.”

He had first “spoken” a hundred days after his birth. According to the servants who had experience giving birth and raising children, speaking at that age was simply impossible. Yet Kyle had spoken at a mere hundred days old.

And his first words hadn't even been “num-nums” or “Mama,” as they were for most babies. His voice had been tiny and clumsy, but Kyle had spoken in sentences, not isolated words.

“Whooo... are... yooou?”

When Kyle spoke for the first time, Arian nearly fainted from shock, and several of the nurses with her actually did. That was how startling his first words had been.

“M-me? You're asking who I am? I'm...! Y-your mommy, Kyle!”

“Ma... maaa...?”

“Yes, Mommy! My name is Arian Alastor, and, um... and... I-I'm twenty-four years old. And...”

“L-Lady Arian, please calm down!”

“Young Master Kyle! Mama. She's your mama!”

As Arian babbled in shock, the nurses shook their rattles vigorously in her stead.

“Ma... maaa... Mama...?”

Could a hundred-day-old baby really speak like that and wear such a profound expression?

“Fooo... food... food...”

From that day on, Kyle began saying all sorts of words.

He didn't say “num-nums” like other ordinary babies. Even though they always called it “num-nums” when feeding him, Kyle distinctly said “food.”

“Bath... room...”

He didn't say “poo-poo” or “wee-wee,” either. Whenever he wanted to go to the bathroom, he said “bathroom” properly.

“...”

Before he turned one, he often did his business before he could say anything. Each time, Kyle pressed his lips firmly together with an expression of grief no baby should have been capable of making.

“If this isn't genius, what is?”

Arian giggled as she stroked Kyle's cheek. Lying in his cradle, Kyle didn't resist his mother's affectionate touch. There was something resigned about his eyes, but Arian, immersed in her love for her son, failed to notice their emptiness.

“Kyle, you're my treasure. A gift from heaven.”

Whispering the words she had said so many times before, Arian offered a finger to Kyle's tiny hand. With a pacifier in his mouth, Kyle gripped her finger just as she wanted.

“Ububu...”

“Ahahaha. How are you so strong?”

Arian beamed at Kyle's tiny, chubby fingers as they gripped and squeezed her finger.

“Kyle, you held my finger when you were born, too. Do you remember?”

“Ububu...”

Kyle nodded as he sucked on his pacifier.

“Oh, did you just answer me?”

Smiling brightly, Arian gently took Kyle's hand. Of course, it never occurred to her that Kyle really remembered the moment he was born.

“Considering how you were when you were born, perhaps you were born to hold something.”

Arian stroked Kyle's head with her other hand. Red hair, the hallmark of their house, was already growing on his little head.

“You probably don't know this, but our family holds all sorts of weapons. Kyle, do you know what a weapon is?”

“Bubu... Bububu...!”

A light suddenly sparked in his resigned eyes. Kyle spat out his pacifier.

“Ka... kaal...”

“Your name isn't Kahl, it's Kyle!”

“Kaaal...”

Squeezing Arian's finger, Kyle struggled to pronounce the word correctly. Then...

“Swooord...”

He named the thing he had loved in his previous life, the thing he had kept close at hand all his life.

“Sword? Did you say sword?”

Kyle nodded vigorously at Arian's astonished face.

“Good heavens, Kyle! Did you just say sword?”

“Swoord...”

“You did! Sword! You said sword! Do you want to hold a sword?”

“Yeees...”

“You can just say ‘yeah’!”

“Uh... yeeah...”

“He answered!”

Arian laughed delightedly and tousled Kyle's hair into a complete mess.

“I'm sorry, Kyle. You're too little, too young, and too adorable to hold a sword right now. So let's leave swords until later. All right?”

At those words, Kyle could only resign himself once more.

'She does have a point...’

He couldn't even control his body properly yet. Even if he wanted to hold a sword, he wouldn't be able to.

'I'll just have to grow up faster...’

As sorrow welled up, this damned baby's body began preparing to cry all on its own.

“Waaabubu...”

The pacifier was slipped back between his lips just as he was about to burst into tears.