With my brilliant intellect and lightning-fast intuition, I quickly deduced that I'd been reborn into the body of a baby..one of three newborns, with a boy and a girl beside me, judging by their clothes.
Today is my second day here. So, happy two-day birthday to me! I've survived forty-eight hours in this strange Victorian-era world. Honestly, I ran out of patience about five minutes after I was born.
They keep feeding me milk. And I don't even like milk.
A maid entered the room, while the nanny—supposedly watching over us—was already there.
The maid rushed toward her, gripping her shoulder.
"Did you hear what the king decided?!"
There's a king too? How delightful.
"No… what?" the nanny asked.
"He's throwing a banquet to celebrate the birth of his first children, his heirs! It's going to be a massive event!"
"The important thing is that it doesn't last too long. Otherwise, it'll be exhausting for everyone..the staff, the babies… and me," the nanny muttered.
The maid flailed her hands dramatically. "Bad luck for you..it'll last two whole weeks!"
"Two weeks?!" the nanny gasped.
Two weeks?! Are you kidding me?
I may not know much about royal customs, but I know enough to realize that a banquet means music, dancing, glittering gowns, and endless food. Nobles prepare for weeks to attend a single-night affair..so imagine being the host. For two weeks?
I'm going to die. Again. Just bury me already and let me rest in peace.
"Honestly, we're lucky. The king originally wanted a full month, but the queen talked him down. After a lot of persuasion, he finally agreed on two weeks," the maid sighed, shaking her head.
"If it weren't for our wise queen constantly saving us, we'd all be doomed with the king's reckless decisions," the nanny added with a dramatic sigh.
"Shhh! Someone might hear you! Next time they'll throw you in the dungeons to rot!" the maid hissed, pressing a finger to her lips.
"Don't worry. Our king is kind and merciful," the nanny said, slipping on a serene smile as she picked up the book she'd been reading before the maid barged in.
She forgot to add 'and foolish'. Because only someone beyond foolish would host a two-week banquet.
I just hope nothing goes wrong. I want a peaceful life.
Oh..right!
"When is the banquet, anyway?" the nanny asked suddenly, like a lightbulb had gone off in her head.
She startled me, I almost thought she'd read my mind. But that's impossible… right?
The maid, already halfway out the door, called back, "Three days from now!" Then vanished, off to do… whatever maids do.
I truly hope the banquet goes smoothly. But for some reason... I have a strange feeling it won't.
******
I awoke to the all-too-familiar clamor of shouting servants and clattering trays just outside the nursery door.
Of course. The palace has been in a frenzy for two full days now, thanks to His Royal Majesty's brilliant idea to host a grand banquet. Apparently, tomorrow's the day. Wonderful. Nothing says peace and quiet.
The door creaked open as the nanny walked in, humming cheerfully. I instinctively shut my eyes and remained motionless. She tends to get far too touchy when I'm awake, and frankly, I value my personal space—even if I'm currently the size of a loaf of bread.
Unfortunately, my siblings weren't as composed. The noise stirred them both, and soon enough, their little limbs were flailing and voices rising. I opened my eyes with a sigh. Another peaceful morning, ruined.
They're far too sensitive to sound. It's impractical. One loud footstep and they act like the sky is falling. It's inefficient. Irrational. And very, very annoying.
The nanny picked up my sister to calm her down and, predictably, offered her a bottle of milk. She rejected it outright—smacking it from the nanny's hand with surprising force for someone barely four days old.
The nanny gasped, stunned. My sister, meanwhile, locked eyes with me and reached out as if demanding to be brought closer.
No. Absolutely not.
Naturally, the nanny interpreted the gesture correctly and placed her beside me on the cushion. My sister began squealing and waving her limbs like she'd just won a trophy. The nanny placed a hand on her cheek, beaming.
"Oh, how adorable! She loves her brother!"
Adorable? That's one word for it. I'd call it an invasion of my personal space.
I considered expressing my irritation, but I'm limited by this body's lack of motor control. Crying seemed the only viable option—and that would be undignified. I refuse to lose composure over a baby who thinks slapping equals affection.
So I said nothing. I endured. Like any mature person would.
More maids soon flooded into the room, cooing at the "sweet sibling bond" between us. It was almost enough to make me scream.
Thankfully, my brother began crying—his timing, for once, impeccable. The nanny, flustered, shooed the others out, mumbling something about disturbing the young master.
Finally. Peace. I owe you one, brother.
Dear sister, please redirect your affection to someone more receptive. Preferably someone far, far away from me.
Just as I was beginning to relax, a tiny hand slapped me across the cheek.
Excuse me?
She hit me. She actually hit me. After declaring her so-called love, she assaults me!
Unbelievable...
I want to see myself in the mirror. I must be handsome-I just know it-but I want confirmation. Just a glimpse.
But how am I supposed to ask for a mirror when I can't even sit upright?
Wait. My siblings. Yes, if I observe them closely, I can deduce my own appearance. Brilliant.
Let's see... My brother has golden-blonde hair and striking violet eyes. My sister, identical. Naturally-they're twins.
Surely I share some resemblance. We're triplets, after all.
Then came the day of the banquet. The preparations were nearly complete, and the nanny dressed us in absurdly ornate outfits. At last, she held a mirror in front of each of us.
My turn came.
000
Black hair. Golden eyes.
I blinked.
That's... not what I expected.
I wanted violet eyes. They're my favorite color. Not that it would change anything, but... still.
Then it hit me. Our mother-black hair, golden eyes. So that's whose features I inherited.
Fine. I'll take it. Genetics are hardly negotiable....unfortunately.
Father carried me and my brother, while Mother held my sister. They brought us into the banquet hall-a space so vast I couldn't see the walls on the far side.
Honestly, it was excessive.
The crowd was massive. Nobles. Commoners. Everyone. Possibly the entire kingdom. I may be exaggerating, but only slightly.
Trumpets sounded. Or so I assumed. I didn't hear a thing, which bothered me. Why didn't I hear them? Is my hearing underdeveloped?
Standing beside the king was a stern, imposing guard. With a powerful voice, he declared
"King Victor Alpha, Queen Celine Roy, Prince Erius Alpha, Prince Leonhart Alpha, and Princess Arabelle Alpha-enter!"
Leonhart Alpha... So that's my name.
Everyone bowed. No one moved until Father gave permission.
"Raise your heads," he said.
They obeyed without hesitation. That level of respect spoke volumes. This man-my father-is clearly well-regarded.
That's... reassuring.
Then the same guard who announced us took me from Father, lifting me high into the air like I was some kind of royal trophy. My siblings were lifted too, and Father proclaimed:
"These are your princes and princess! The future rulers and protectors of this kingdom!"
Cheers erupted. Applause followed.
I suppose… it wasn't terrible. If nothing else, the structure and formality of it all appealed to me.
Without realizing it, I smiled—just a little.
Mother noticed immediately.
"Leon smiled! He smiled for the first time!"
She sounded thrilled. Overly so. I wasn't trying to smile. It just… happened.
Father turned me around to inspect my face.
"Where? I want to see it!"
Too late. The moment was gone.
The guests began eating. A table stretched endlessly before them, filled with every dish imaginable.
Of course, I couldn't eat any of it. I'm five days old. No teeth. No digestive capacity.
Time passed. The banquet dragged on.
But something has been bothering me ever since the start.
The name "Alpha."
I've heard it before.
Somewhere… in the shadowed corners of memory I can't quite reach.
Why does it sound so familiar?