When Andre opened his eyes, there was no one around him.
His head was throbbing; it felt like an invisible nail was being hammered deeper into his brain with every pulse. The pain was so sharp, so intense, that it seemed an unseen hand was slowly crushing his skull. He didn't know who he was, how old he was... Even his name had vanished into the depths of his mind.
But something felt off.
His consciousness whispered that he had lived a long time. It was as if someone had buried his memories, deliberately trying to make him forget. He wasn't sure whether to fear himself or surrender to the uncertainty.
He lay silently for a while. There was nothing—no memory, no clue. But at the very least, he had to figure out where he was.
He slowly tried to sit up—and that's when he realized.
He was in a crib.
"A crib?" he thought, eyes wide with astonishment.
Why was he lying in a baby's crib? He felt far too mature to be an infant. Mentally, he was not a child. So... what was this? Some kind of twisted game?
He looked at his hands. He raised them slowly... but what he saw didn't feel like his own.
They were tiny. Delicate. Weak.
They were the hands of a baby.
A chill ran down his spine.
"I... why am I in a baby's body?"
Panic overtook him. He scrambled to climb out of the crib, and with effort, managed to throw himself over the side. But he hadn't accounted for the drop below.
THUD!
He hit the floor. His hip ached, but compared to the relentless throbbing in his head, it was nothing. He tried to stand, but his legs were too weak. Walking was out of the question.
He began to crawl.
Looking around, his shock deepened. The room was massive—larger than most family homes. At first, he thought he was in a shelter. But then he noticed them—cribs, lined along all four sides of the room.
"Are there... other babies like me?"
His curiosity overcame his fear. He crawled to the nearest crib. What he saw inside made his breath catch.
The baby... looked exactly like him.
Bluish-black hair. Blood-red eyes.
He looked to the next crib. And the next. They were all the same.
Every baby was identical.
"Do I... look like that too?"
The thought pushed him to search for a mirror. He scanned the room—nothing. Not a single reflective surface.
He needed to get out.
He crawled toward the door.
But he would come to regret it.
The moment his tiny hand touched the handle, the door swung open with force. Towering above him stood a man so massive he barely seemed human. A colossus of flesh and muscle. His very presence radiated dread.
Andre's breath hitched. His body reacted on instinct. He wet himself.
He turned to flee, but the giant seized him by the leg and lifted him into the air with a single hand.
"Could it be... this is Andreas?" the man asked in a deep, gravelly voice.
Behind him, an old butler nodded solemnly.
It was then that Andre learned his name—Andreas.
A crooked smile twisted the giant's lips.
"Butler, take this one to the Main Family House."
The butler bowed respectfully. His eyes, however, were filled with pity.
He gently took Andre from the man, cradling him with care. In the butler's arms, Andre felt a faint sense of security. But his mind was still flooded with questions:
Who was that man?
What was the Main Family House?
Why was he here?
Was this really his body?
The questions pounded in his head, and with them, the pain surged again. He couldn't take it. Darkness overtook him.
When he opened his eyes, he was back in the white void.
The shadow stood before him again. This time, words weren't needed—his thoughts reached the shadow directly.
But it spoke first.
"Were you able to learn your name?"
"Yes..." Andre thought.
The shadow recoiled slightly, surprised.
"So you've begun to understand."
Andre noticed the shadow's mouth didn't move. Like before, it communicated through thought.
"This... is telepathy, isn't it?"
The shadow tilted its head. Its tone, cloaked in shadow, whispered:
"You must leave... Never trust the Verblade Family."
Suddenly, the whiteness vanished.
Andre awoke in a horse-drawn carriage, still held in the butler's arms.
About twenty minutes later, the carriage came to a halt. The butler disembarked, cradling Andre carefully. When he noticed Andre's eyes were open, he smiled faintly.
"Ah, young master... So you are awake. Welcome to the Verblade Main Family House."
He must have thought a baby wouldn't understand. But his words sent a shiver down Andre's spine.
Because before them stood not a house—but a chateau so vast, it dwarfed castles.
Dozens of guards lined the entrance. Servants moved busily in the grand garden. Just walking through it might take days.
Why did such a place exist?
But the butler didn't take him to the chateau itself. Instead, they approached a smaller building within the estate. There, a few other babies—just like Andre—were present.
He handed Andre to a maid and spoke with a chilling tone:
"This is the last of the special genocide unit chosen by the chief... and likely the most powerful."
The maid's eyes widened in shock as she looked down at Andre. Then she nodded and led him to a small room.
It felt more like a dungeon than a nursery.
One crib in the corner. Shelves on the walls. A few tables. Only one window, set too high for him to reach.
The maid left and closed the door.
But through the walls, Andre still heard her voice.
"This child... will he truly be able to meet the expectations of the Verblade Family, butler?"
The butler answered with certainty:
"I believe he will live up to those expectations."
Silence followed.
And then—the door opened again.
Before Andre could even see who it was...
His breath caught in his throat.