He was suspended in thick, viscous, blood-warm liquid. His limbs, coiled awkwardly beneath him, lay numb and twisted like string caught in a clenched fist.
There was no room to stretch, no air to breathe. Just… pressure.
Where… where am I?
He would have vomited if he'd had a mouth to do it.
The pressure began to change. A shift. A tightening. And then, crushing.
His little body convulsed as the walls around him squeezed inward, pushing him headlong through a tightening passage. It was suffocating.
The fluid surged around him, driven by spasms in the flesh. His face slammed into something softer, but not soft enough.
No. No. No. This isn't happening.
Light pressed in through his eyelids, sharp and uninvited, drilling into his skull.
What… is this? Where am I? I thought I just died…
Questions flooded his head like a sudden rainstorm but before any of them could settle, his tiny body took its first breath.
Air rushed in, and his lungs lit up with a burning pain, like a thousand needles tearing through him from the inside out.
"I thought all babies were supposed to cry when they're born... Maybe our kid takes after me!"
"Don't be silly, dear. Of course he takes after you, after both of us. Just look at him. He's adorable."
What looked to be Luoyue's mom was holding him in her arms, lying in bed after giving birth, sweat clinging to her skin. His dad stood right next to her, close enough to lean in and make a fool of himself.
He was striking goofy poses, puffing out his chest and flexing like some ancient Greek statue brought to life, if that statue had absolutely no sense of shame.
His mom let out a tired chuckle, clearly used to it. They really did seem like a happy family.
Is this what it's like to have a family?
Luoyue didn't know. He hadn't had a family before coming here. He had no memory of his mother, and his father had dumped him in an orphanage, treating him like an unwanted bastard.
His thoughts came to a halt as a warm liquid dripped from his eyes, blurring his vision all over again.
What is this...? Am I crying?
The thought of getting a second chance in this world, paired with the warmth of the parents in front of him, was enough to bring him to tears.
"Dear, look. Our baby's finally crying. You must have scared him with that big, scary face of yours."
"There, there, Azrael. It's okay to cry. Mom and Dad are right here with you."
His mom tried to calm him, gently rocking and swaying him in her arms as she hummed a soft lullaby.
That's my new name? Azrael… huh. Not too shabby, actually.
His crying had stopped by now. As he took in the situation, he realized he could understand the language his parents were speaking, though of course he couldn't say a single word himself. Not yet, anyway.
Using all his strength to turn his tiny head and look around, he guessed this must be his home. It was beautiful, resembling the manors and old castles he'd seen in his past life.
Wait a second… Did I just win the reincarnation lottery? Silk bed sheets, marble floors, doting parents...
What is this? I don't remember doing anything so amazing in my past life to deserve this.
Oh! I get it. Maybe God felt bad for me after seeing how pathetic my last life was.
Though definitely a bit of a musclehead, his dad was surprisingly good-looking. He seemed to be in his early to mid-twenties, with golden blond hair, a sharp jawline, and grayish-blue eyes that suited him almost annoyingly well.
His mom, on the other hand, had hair whiter than most elderly and deep brown eyes. She was alarmingly thin, almost fragile looking, far too frail for someone who had just given birth. Still, she was beautiful in her own right, like one of those popular idols from his old world.
There was a third person in the room, just about to take their leave. They wore a monocle and looked like some sort of doctor.
"Count Sonnenfall, Countess Sonnenfall. Your newborn appears to be in excellent health. I advise continuing with bed rest for the next two weeks, as previously instructed, Countess."
The next few weeks were a new kind of torture. Being stuck in a doll-like body, only able to flail his tiny arms around like wet noodles, with almost no motor control to speak of was not exactly a fun time. Worst of all, he couldn't even pee or poo when he wanted to. His body just kind of decided for him.
As for the whole being-born-with-a-golden-spoon thing, it didn't seem quite as perfect as he first thought. They were a noble family, a count's household in name at least, but their estate, while definitely luxurious, wasn't nearly as grand as he had imagined.
One head butler, a full-time live-in maid, and a part-time one made up the entire staff. Even so, the estate, while presentable at first glance, appeared rather run-down upon closer inspection. The servants clearly did their best, but the signs of wear were hard to miss.
Still, in the few weeks he'd been here, he'd managed to pick up some useful information about the world outside. This was definitely a different world, not just the past of the one he came from.
He'd managed to sneak out of his crib each night to read about this world in the estate's library. The signs of wear were most obvious there. It was dusty, filled with cobwebs, and clearly hadn't been used in ages.
From what he'd gathered, this world seemed to be one of magic and warriors, filled with other races and creatures that only existed in the mythology of his old world.
His dad, the musclehead himself, turned out to be one of those warriors. Azrael had seen him training in the forest that surrounded the estate, moving with the kind of strength and agility that looked almost surreal.
Every morning, Azrael made it a habit to crawl up to the windowsill by his crib and watch his father train. From there, he'd see him smash down towering, ancient trees with a single strike. It became a quiet routine for his mornings, one that wouldn't last much longer.