I woke up to sunlight stabbing me in the eyes. Again.
"Ugh…" I tried to cover my face, but my tiny arms only flailed uselessly in the air. Right. I wasn't twenty-four anymore. I was… what, three months old? Four?
From the corner of the room, a soft voice chimed in.
"He's awake earlier than usual today."
Mother. Seraphina. Her tone was like silk, warm and gentle. Honestly, if she wasn't my mother in this life, I might've fallen for her.
Then came the booming voice.
"Of course he is. My son has the blood of a lion."
Father. Leon. Tall, golden eyes that practically screamed king of the world. He acted like every burp of mine was a battle cry.
"Blood of a lion my ass," I thought, kicking the blanket. My legs looked like sausages. I couldn't even roll over without assistance. Some lion.
Mother leaned closer, silver hair catching the light. She smiled, and I swear the whole room got brighter. She slipped her finger into my tiny fist. My instincts took over, and I squeezed hard.
She chuckled. "See? Strong grip, yes. But still just a baby."
Father grinned and shoved his giant hand in my face.
"Go on, son. Say 'Father.'"
I gave him my best deadpan look. Well, as deadpan as a baby could manage. My mouth opened, and what came out was—"Buuuh." And some spit.
Mother laughed. "There. That was his answer."
Father groaned like I'd just betrayed him. I couldn't help it—I started giggling. For once, being a baby had its perks. Making royalty look like fools was oddly satisfying.
Then their voices shifted. Books. Swords. Responsibilities. They were debating about me, again.
Great. One wanted me to be a scholar. The other wanted me to swing a sword before I could walk.
"Guys, hello? I was an office worker in my last life. Can we not overestimate me here?" I thought, drooling on my fist.
The tension in the air grew, and I instinctively whined. It worked like magic. Both parents instantly softened, leaning closer to soothe me.
Ah. So this is the power of being a baby. Ultimate control.
Father's hand stroked my hair. Mother kissed my forehead. And just like that, the world felt safe again.
"Not bad," I thought, my eyelids drooping. "For a second life, I guess I could get used to this…"
Sleep tugged at me, but before I drifted off, I caught Mother whispering—
"You will be loved, no matter what path you choose."
…Damn it. That hit harder than I expected.
I fell asleep with a stupid smile on my tiny face.
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
Eight months old. That's what I am—at least, on the outside.
To my parents, I'm just a baby who giggles when Father makes funny faces and calms down whenever Mother hums her lullaby.
But inside, my thoughts don't belong to an infant.
This world… I've already started to piece it together. From the whispers of attendants, the scrolls left on tables, and the careless chatter of nobles who think a baby can't understand, I've learned more than they'd ever expect.
There are kingdoms and duchies, great lands with their own pride and power. The Leonhart Empire, my home, rules the center of it all. To the north, the dukedoms bend only slightly to the crown. To the west, the Isles thrive on trade—and piracy. And above all nations looms the Sanctum of Mages, a place even kings treat carefully.
And then there is magic. I've seen Father's court mages chant words that weave fire and light into existence. Each time, something inside me stirs—like the world's mana is tugging at my very soul.
Father, King Leon Leonhart, is said to be fearsome, but to me… he's warmth itself. He has golden hair that shines like the sun and red eyes that burn with fire, yet he laughs easily, lifting me high into the air as if I were the only treasure that mattered.
Mother, Queen Celestia, is elegance given form. With silver hair and eyes blue as the morning sky, she moves like a song. But I can see it—beneath her softness lies strength. Her gaze can silence even the boldest duke.
And me? I'm Adrian Leonhart, their son, heir to the throne. To the court, I'm just a child who has inherited Father's golden hair and faint red eyes. But I've overheard the whispers:
"The Crown Prince bears the Golden Fang… the bloodline's power."
I don't yet know what this "Golden Fang" truly means. But I know one thing—this life, this empire, this world—it's mine to understand.
For now, I will crawl, laugh, and babble like the baby I appear to be. But my eyes are always open. I'm watching. Learning.
Because when the time comes, Adrian Leonhart will not simply inherit a throne.
He will shape the fate of this world.