This is it.

  The moment I’ve been waiting for.

  For months, I’ve been trapped inside this cramped, suffocating space, floating in a warm liquid prison with nothing to do but listen to the muffled voices of my so-called parents. Now, after what felt like an eternity, I can feel it—I’m finally getting out.

  The walls around me tighten like a vice, squeezing and pushing me downward. My whole body compresses under the pressure, every muscle in my tiny form straining against the unbearable force.

  Come on! Push harder! Let me out!

  I can feel my surroundings contracting again and again, forcing me closer to freedom. The pressure on my head is intense, like someone is shoving me through an impossibly tight tunnel. This has to be the most undignified way to enter the world. If I ever get to live lazily again, I swear I’m filing a complaint with the gods.

  Then—with one final push—it happens.

  Pop!

  I’M FREE!

  And immediately, I regret everything.

  Cold.

  Fucking cold.

  The warmth of my former prison vanishes in an instant, replaced by an unforgiving blast of frigid air that crashes against my newborn skin like an icy tidal wave. My body shakes violently, every nerve screaming in protest as I feel the temperature difference for the first time.

  I open my mouth to curse, but instead—

  "HAAAAA! WAAAAAH!!"

  What the hell?!

  That wail—that horrifying, ear-piercing sound—was me?

  My eyes are open.

  Oh, god. I’m an actual baby now.

  Voices echo around me, muffled yet frantic, the sounds of footsteps rushing across the wooden floor. Somewhere close, a fire crackles, the flames casting flickering golden light against the rough stone walls of the room. The heat from the fireplace barely reaches me, and I continue shivering uncontrollably.

  Then—rough hands lift me from the freezing air.

  Oi! Oi! Oi! Be careful, lady!

  The hands belong to an older woman, her face lined with wrinkles of experience, sharp eyes glinting with both professionalism and exhaustion. She’s the midwife, I assume, her presence commanding respect despite the strain of a long night. Her strong, calloused hands move with practiced ease as she swiftly wraps me in soft white cloth, tucking me in like a neatly folded dumpling.

  Thank fuck. Warmth.

  I barely have time to enjoy the newfound comfort before I’m turned toward two figures—my parents.

  The woman lying on the large wooden bed is breathless, strands of auburn hair clinging to her sweat-drenched face. Her emerald green eyes, though hazy with exhaustion, shine with something raw and powerful—love, relief, joy.

  She’s beautiful, even in this state, her delicate features marred only by the sheer physical strain she just endured. Her lips tremble, her arms weakly reaching out as the midwife carefully places me into them.

  Then, my gaze drifts to the man beside her.

  My father.

  He stands tall and rigid, a presence that commands the room even in silence. His dark, shoulder-length hair is slightly disheveled, his strong jaw clenched as he watches me with a deep, thoughtful expression. His deep blue eyes flicker with an unreadable mix of emotions—curiosity, pride, and perhaps a sliver of doubt.

  He studies me intently, his gaze lingering longer than I’m comfortable with.

  Oi, stop looking at me like I’m some weird creature. I just got here, damn it.

  A soft sigh escapes him, and after a long pause, he turns to my mother.

  “You should name him,” he says, his deep voice calm yet firm.

  My mother, still catching her breath, smiles weakly but lovingly. She pulls me closer to her chest, her warmth enveloping me fully. I can hear the steady thump of her heartbeat, a rhythmic sound that oddly soothes me.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Her emerald eyes lock onto mine.

  “Aizek,” she whispers.

  …

  Well, who would’ve thought?

  Guess I wasn’t getting a cool new fantasy name after all.

  Still Aizek.

  Figures.

  ---

  As I continue processing my glorious rebirth, I take in as much as I can about my surroundings. The house we’re in is solid and well-built, its walls made of aged bricks and stone, reinforced by thick wooden beams. The high ceiling gives the room an airy, spacious feel, despite the rustic furnishings.

  The fireplace, a massive stone structure with intricate carvings, dominates one side of the room, the only source of warmth in this bitter winter night. Wooden shelves line the walls, stacked with books, ceramic containers, and handmade trinkets—evidence of a well-lived home.

  A large, rough-hewn wooden table sits in the center of the room, bearing signs of frequent use, its surface worn smooth over time. Near the windows, a sturdy rocking chair sways slightly, the creaking sound barely audible over the low murmurs of conversation.

  Outside the frosted windows, I can see hints of the world beyond—the dark outlines of snow-covered rooftops, the soft glow of lanterns from neighboring houses, and the occasional silhouette of people moving through the streets, bundled in heavy cloaks against the cold.

  This is no ordinary medieval house—this is a wealthy home, built with care and strength.

  And it looks like I’ve been born into a good family.

  Right? To a good family?

  …

  Somewhere unknown.

  In a vast chamber adorned with intricate tapestries and towering bookshelves, the scent of old parchment and ink mingled with the faint aroma of smoldering firewood from the nearby hearth. Maps sprawled across the walls, detailing lands, kingdoms, and territories, each marked with notes of population, resources, and known threats. Candlelight flickered against the polished mahogany desk near a grand window, casting long shadows across the room.

  Seated at this desk was an aged man, Lord Kaz. His once-black hair was now streaked with wisps of silver, his sharp features accentuated by the spectacles perched on his nose. His stern, unwavering gaze scanned over the documents he was meticulously scribbling upon, his quill scratching softly against the parchment.

  The heavy wooden door creaked open. A man clad in dark attire entered briskly, bowing before speaking, his voice laced with formality.

  "My lord, the young miss Sheina has given birth. You now have a great-grandson."

  At this, Lord Kaz paused. His pen hovered in the air for a brief moment before he slowly lifted his head. His gaze met the messenger’s, and for an instant, something flickered in his sharp eyes—a mixture of surprise and silent joy, quickly veiled by his usual stoicism.

  He let out a deep breath, set his quill aside, and straightened in his chair. "Make preparations. Double the guards." His voice was calm but resolute, the weight of authority pressing down like an unmovable force. Then, with a flick of his hand, he pulled open a drawer and retrieved a bottle of aged liquor, its dark amber liquid gleaming in the dim light. As he poured the drink into two crystal glasses, he added, "And summon my daughter."

  The messenger swiftly bowed and exited, leaving behind a silence that was soon interrupted by a low, almost amused chuckle.

  "Come out." Lord Kaz’s voice echoed through the chamber. "Your daughter just had a son. That makes you a grandfather now. And me? A great-grandfather. Damn it, time moves too fast."

  From the corner of the room, where the shadows pooled unnaturally, a figure materialized—a man with pitch-black hair, its depths absorbing the candlelight like an abyss, and eyes that gleamed a fiery mix of gold and red. His build was neither bulky nor frail, but a lean, well-tempered frame honed for precision and lethality. The man—**Kael—**bowed deeply before speaking.

  "Congratulations, lord father, on having the first male heir in four centuries."

  At this, Lord Kaz grinned, his laughter filling the chamber. A sudden burst of invisible energy rippled through the air, pressing down like an unseen force, stirring the candle flames and causing the maps on the walls to tremble.

  He lifted his glass, gesturing for Kael to do the same. Without hesitation, Kael took the offered drink, the liquor burning down his throat as he gulped it.

  Lord Kaz exhaled in satisfaction. "Damn right. Do you know how long I’ve waited for a male heir?" He paused, then waved a dismissive hand. "Forget that first order—scrapped thar. Instead, you go yourself. Take a division, and a few retinues. Make sure Sheina and the boy are protected at all costs. Stay in the shadows; you know how perceptive that daughter of yours is. I don’t need her nagging her mother and dragging us into that mess."

  Kael nodded, his expression unreadable. "Understood, Lord Kaz."

  Before he could take his leave, the door behind them swung open once more.

  A woman stepped in, her entrance filled with effortless grace. Long crimson hair cascaded down her back, her emerald eyes sharp and piercing. She had the build of a warrior—slender yet undeniably strong, her movements controlled and refined. She stopped in her tracks upon seeing the two men drinking, her lips curling into a smirk laced with amusement and disapproval.

  "What is it, father? Did you summon me just to babysit you two while you drown yourselves in alcohol?"

  Lord Kaz let out another laugh, his hand tapping against the rim of his glass. "Sheina has given birth. To a baby boy."

  The teasing light in the woman’s eyes instantly shifted into something deeper—shock, then astonishment, then something unreadable.

  "My little girl... is a mother?" she whispered, more to herself than to them. But before she could even process the thought, she turned her sharp gaze to Kael. "Wait. You knew where Sheina was, and you didn't tell me?"

  Kael met her glare without flinching. "I didn't tell you because you’d rush off, drag her back here, and cause unnecessary trouble. Refrain yourself this time." His voice was calm but firm. "Father has already ordered me to go to her. You don’t need to worry."

  Luna’s brows furrowed, displeasure evident in her stance. But before she could argue, Lord Kaz interjected. "That’s right, Luna. Let Kael handle this."

  She clicked her tongue in irritation but ultimately relented. "Fine. But what about the man beside her? The child’s father? Is he even worthy?"

  Kael glanced at Lord Kaz, who merely smirked before answering, "Quite useful. Good looks, good brain. He teaches at the Royal Academy of Draguan." He paused, his gaze sharpening, then turned to Kael. "Make the preparations. And hear me well—trample anyone who dares to lay a finger on them. Even if it’s the royal family of Draguan. If they touch my sole heir..."

  His voice dropped into a low, lethal whisper, his next words laced with quiet fury. "Burn that place to the ground."

  A tense silence filled the room.

  Kael and Luna stiffened, exchanging brief but knowing glances before bowing in unison.

  "Understood."

  With that, they took their leave, the door closing behind them with a soft but resounding finality.