Even though the sky is blue, the sun feels radiant, and birds sing the lullaby of autumn, a boy remains shrouded in gloom, tucked into a small corner of the school's wide rooftop. His eyes stay locked on his bowl of noodles, clenched tightly in his hands. It's as if the poor guy is scared that if he looks up, someone will steal his food. But he grabs the biggest bites he can and eats as fast as possible. Finishing the bowl as quickly as he can — but why?
Why are his tears falling so violently, dripping both inside and outside his bowl…?
Later, when he's almost done eating, a gang of delinquents climbs up to the rooftop. They talk like there's miles between each other. They smoke cigarettes like they're old enough to.
When they spot the poor boy, their leader runs straight at him and lands a kick right in his gut. The boy doesn't even look up to see who hit him — he just keeps crying his heart out, screaming: "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry.", "Please have mercy on me."
The gang laughs with all their lungs.
— "He's bawling like a damn pig, haha!"
— "Bro, with that kind of ugliness and weight, that's not a human — that's a pig. Haha!"
— "This guy makes me wanna puke," says the leader. "What the hell is he still doing in our ghetto?"
— "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry," the boy yells again, curling up into a fetal position on the floor.
— "Shut up, goddamn it. Shut the fvck up!" the leader says, pounding him harder and harder with each blow.
Then the others join in, crushing him like he's nothing more than a filthy cockroach. And when you really think about it…
isn't that exactly what he is to them?
Just a cockroach.
These kids don't hold back. To them, it's fun. They don't even notice that the pig they're playing with hasn't been breathing for a while now —but they keep pounding on his body anyway…
— "Wait dude, something's wrong. The pig's not moving."
— "He should've passed out with that many hits."
— "No, I mean… Shit! He's not breathing, man. He's not fvcking breathing. What are we gonna do?"
What were they going to do, huh?
None of them said, "What have we done?"
There was no remorse. No guilt.
The pig is dead.
What now? We hide the body. We dump it somewhere. Because he's just trash. And yeah — that's exactly what they did.
But that's not the story.
This story is about the pig.
In that moment of disappearance, the little boy — now nothing more than a lost soul adrift in the void — can't even grasp the depth of his despair as his memories slowly begin to fade.
And within those fading memories are all the times he had to play alone at home, because no one wanted to be his friend. He was frail when he was little, weakened by malnutrition. The instant noodles his drunk mother used to buy never made up for the mineral deficiencies. They only made him fat and ugly.
But you need to eat well for the cruel puzzle that is studying.
And so, this boy has been a victim since kindergarten.
How many times did he want to change schools, or just quit altogether? Anyway, his mother — she wanted him gone. But he could already see the life that awaited him if he dropped out, reflected in the eyes of all the men who visited his mother every night.
School was his only hope. And he always had the best grades — always.
But in the end, his body betrayed him. That frail body couldn't withstand all that violence. Every single day. Maybe it was his ugliness. Maybe it was his weight. Maybe it was his academic brilliance… Or maybe just for fun.
He endured this hell since forever.
Eventually, his body gave out. His will broke. He was traumatized. Shattered — mentally and physically.
And then, in that darkness, he hears strange voices. Voices he can't recognize. It scares him. But at this point, everything scares him. So he opens his eyes, trying to see what's going on. But all he sees is blur and shadow. The confusion pounds at his head like a migraine. He passes out.
When he opens his eyes again, he finds himself in a vast room. The ceiling above him is beautifully carved, with a strange painting at its center. I mean — in that painting, there's a woman holding flames in her hands, and around her, men are fleeing in terror.
Our hero tries to sit up and move, but it's hard. He can't control his body. But his mind — and his memories — are still intact. He tries to make sense of what's happening, but the only thing he can grasp is that he's been reincarnated. The where?when? and to whom? — all unanswered.
Then he hears something familiar:
footsteps.
They're getting closer. And he panics. That's exactly how his death began.
You never know who's going to walk in.
Before the servants even enter the room, he's already crying. The servants rush to him, and gently take him into their arms.
But that doesn't mean he's reassured. In fact, he's even more worried because… we're talking about two men dressed as maids, for heaven's sake. That's seriously concerning — these reeks of some twisted perversion. Still, since the two men seem to be doing their best to calm him down, he relaxes. But deep inside, he's still uneasy — being in the arms of two pervs carrying him off to who-knows-where.
Eventually, the two men bring him into an office. A short-haired woman is sitting there. The two pervs call her "Her Excellency the Marquise." Not only is she dressed like a prince, but she also talks harshly to these two sissy maids. The two "maids" present the boy with such reverence. Then the woman tries to breastfeed him. That's when it becomes obvious — she's his mother.
Everything suddenly starts to make a bit more sense — well, almost — but our hero still can't draw any firm conclusions. Not yet.
Then two other men enter the room. And they look exactly alike. They, too, are wearing elegant robes worthy of a 16th-century European noble — except their chests are modestly covered.
And it's only now that he realizes: all the men here have long, beautifully styled hair. Their skin looks pampered and smooth. No beard. No mustache. They're refined, pretty, even delicate. They have no broad shoulders. They aren't muscular at all. Between the two genders, it's the men who are the soft ones.
The question is: why?
It's when both of those men, at the same time, claim to be his … dads … that he finally understands the mess he's in. He's landed in a world where women stand above all living beings. The reason remains a mystery — but that's just how it is.
It's a medieval era, and what's more, he's the child of a marquise. Shall I remind you that a marquise is an important noble family in medieval times? Their lands are usually located on the border of a kingdom — which means our hero's family is one forged for war.
If the hero were reborn as a girl, she'd be bound to follow a strict education in battle and warfare — to protect the honor of the marquisate, to serve the people, to defend the nation. And he? He'd be an utter disaster. He never had strength — and even less courage — when it came to physical trials.
If he's a boy, he'd still be expected to receive a high education in manners and culture, to follow trends, to impress princesses and influential figures for political gain. And he? He's never had a handsome face or a beautiful body.
Either way — it's hell for him.
But what he doesn't yet understand… is that this is no longer the same world. And that everything — everything — is different now.