Alice POV

  *"Where... am I?"*

  The thought drifted through my mind like a half-remembered dream.

  Everything was warm. Too warm. The air pressed against me from all sides, thick and suffocating. My body felt wrong—too small, too weak, like I'd been folded into a space far too tight.

  Then—light.

  Blinding and cold and *real.*

  Sounds crashed over me in a wave. Voices, muffled and distant. The rustle of fabric. Footsteps on stone. My lungs burned as I dragged in my first breath, and I *screamed.*

  Not because I wanted to.

  Because my body didn't know how to do anything else.

  Hands lifted me—gentle but firm. Through blurred vision, I saw a woman's face. Blonde hair cascading like spun gold. Eyes the color of amber, warm and impossibly kind. She was beautiful in a way that felt unreal, like a painting come to life.

  And she was... holding me.

  Like a baby.

  *No. No, wait—*

  I tried to move my arms. Tiny, chubby limbs flailed uselessly. Tried to speak. A pathetic wail escaped instead.

  Panic slammed into me.

  *This isn't my body. These aren't my hands. What—what is—*

  "Shhh, shhh..." The woman's voice was a melody, soft and soothing. She rocked me gently, her warmth seeping into my tiny, trembling form. "It's alright, my precious one. Mama's here. You're safe."

  *Mama?*

  The word rattled around my infant brain, trying to make sense.

  *I was reborn. I was... I'm a baby now.*

  The realization hit like ice water.

  A maid approached, her hands glowing faintly with warm, golden light. She murmured something—words I couldn't quite grasp—and that warmth spread over my skin, washing away the cold and the fear. My cries softened. My eyelids grew heavy.

  The woman—my *mother*—pulled me close, whispering something I couldn't understand. And despite the confusion, despite the terror, my tiny body relaxed.

  Because instinct told me one thing clearly:

  *I'm safe here.*

  I drifted into sleep before I could fight it.

  ---

  The days that followed blurred together in a haze of eating, sleeping, and crying.

  Mostly crying.

  I hated every second of it.

  Being a baby was *humiliating*. I had the mind of a teenager trapped in a body that couldn't even hold its own head up. I couldn't speak. Couldn't walk. Couldn't do *anything* except lie there while maids cooed over me and changed my clothes and—

  Let's not talk about diaper changes.

  Let's never talk about that.

  "She's so well-behaved today," one maid—Clara—whispered as she adjusted the blanket around me.

  "Of course she is," another replied. "She's the Duchess's firstborn. A little angel."

  *Angel? I've been screaming internally for three days straight.*

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  My mother, Duchess Seraphina, swept into the room like sunlight breaking through clouds. She was always graceful, always poised, her blonde hair perfectly arranged even in the early morning.

  "How is my darling Elena today?" she cooed, scooping me up into her arms.

  So I already have a name.

  I tried to glare at her.

  It probably came out as a gummy smile.

  She gasped. "Oh! Did you see that, Clara? She smiled at me! My brilliant daughter!"

  *I wasn't smiling. That was gas.*

  But there was no point in arguing. Not when all I could do was gurgle.

  ---

  As the weeks passed, I began piecing together fragments of my new reality.

  This world wasn't Earth.

  The maids used words like *mana* and *enchantment* as casually as someone back home would talk about electricity. Glowing runes decorated the walls—not for show, but because they *did* something. Lit the room. Kept it warm. Purified the air.

  Magic was real here.

  One afternoon, I overheard two maids talking by the window.

  "Did you hear?" one whispered. "Another wyvern sighting near the western border."

  "Again? That's the third one this month."

  "His Grace had to mobilize the knights. If this keeps up, they'll need to request aid from the Mage Corps."

  *Wyverns. Knights. Mage Corps.*

  My infant heart raced.

  This wasn't just a medieval world. It was a world of monsters and magic. The kind of place that only existed in fantasy novels.

  And I was living in it.

  Another thought struck me, sharper and more painful than the rest.

  *Leon.*

  If I'd been reborn here... then he had to be somewhere in this world too. But where? And as what?

  Knowing him, he was probably stumbling through this just as confused as I was. That reckless idiot never thought things through. Always acted on impulse. Always threw himself into danger without a second thought.

  *Please be safe,* I thought, staring up at the ceiling. *Wherever you are.*

  ---

  Weeks turned into month.

  I spent most of my time in my room—a lavish space filled with silk curtains, carved wooden furniture, and enchanted lanterns that floated near the ceiling. Everything screamed wealth and status.

  But I didn't leave.

  Not once.

  It wasn't until one morning, when Clara mentioned my father's return, that I realized I hadn't even seen the rest of the house.

  "His Grace will arrive soon," Clara said, adjusting my dress—a tiny, embroidered thing that made me look like a doll.

  Now that i think about it i never saw my father from what i understood he left few days ago before i was born when there emergency of monster. So he was not present all these time i guess its been a little more than a month since he left and now is returning.

  My mother's eyes lit up. "Then we should bring Elena downstairs. It's time she met her father properly."

  Clara hesitated. "My lady... this will be her first time leaving her room."

  My mother blinked. "Wait. We've never taken her downstairs?"

  "No, my lady. You've both been quite busy."

  A pause. Then my mother laughed softly, shaking her head. "How strange. Our daughter's first journey—and it's just to the entrance hall."

  *First time outside this place and I was only upper floor all these time, and I'm already meeting my father. Great. No pressure.*

  ---

  The entrance hall was breathtaking.

  High vaulted ceilings. Marble floors polished to a mirror shine. Banners bearing a crimson dragon crest hung from the walls, and an enormous chandelier cast golden light over rows of assembled servants and knights.

  Everyone stood at attention, their gazes fixed on the grand doors at the far end of the hall.

  A herald's voice rang out:

  "His Grace, Duke Ash Reinhart, has arrived!"

  The doors swung open.

  A man stepped through.

  Tall. Lean but muscular. Dark hair that looked almost black in the dim light. And eyes—gods, his *eyes*—like molten rubies, sharp and piercing, the kind that could see straight through you.

  Every step he took radiated authority. The servants bowed in perfect unison. Even the air seemed to still.

  He walked toward us slowly, deliberately.

  And then his gaze landed on me.

  I froze.

  Those red eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. There was something *ancient* in that stare. Something dangerous.

  He stopped in front of my mother and me.

  A faint smile tugged at his lips.

  "So," he said quietly, his voice deep and smooth, "this is my daughter huh."

  The world held its breath.

  My tiny heart pounded in my chest.

  And somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, one thought echoed louder than the rest:

  *I need to survive this world. I need to get stronger.*

  *I need to find Leon.*