Richard's eyes blinked open, his vision adjusting to a soft, golden glow around him. He found himself in a beautiful room, filled with luxurious furnishings—a king-sized bed, two wardrobes, a few small drawers, and a grand mirror set against the wall. The space was simple yet elegant, radiating warmth, and comfort.
But before he could take in the details, he felt something unusual—hands, warm and steady, supporting his back. They felt… massive.
Confused, Richard wriggled slightly, his mind racing as he tried to comprehend the sensation.
'Why the hell am I resting in such large hands? They're practically covering my entire back!'
'Is this real or am I hallucinating? Or…'
The final conclusion felt terrifying to think about but he thought about it regardless. 'Did I get smaller?'
The realization hit him like a slap.
A voice, soft yet excited, broke through his thoughts. "My lady, it's a boy!"
Richard froze. 'What? A boy? I'm a man!'
The words echoed in his mind, but he barely registered them as he struggled to process what was happening.
He felt himself being lifted, the world shifting as he was brought face-to-face with the woman holding him. She was a middle-aged lady with kind eyes and a look of pride as she held him close.
He gaped at her, wide-eyed and disbelieving. The sheer absurdity of it all caught up with him, and his mouth opened in an attempt to protest. Instead, an unmistakable sound escaped—a high-pitched wail.
"Waahh!"
"Waaaah!!"
'Excuse me, miss. Why are you so large? Or am I the smaller one?'
The thoughts registered but when he decide to speak, it always ended as a baby's cry.
"Waaah!"
"Waaah!!"
The cries of an infant filled the room, and Richard felt an even deeper sense of frustration. He couldn't even exclaim properly. His cries echoed for a moment before he managed to stop, the room returning to silence as he pulled himself together, determined to figure out what was going on.
'Hey! Why the hell am I sounding like a baby?!'
'I'm a grown man for God's sake!'
'I should be sounding warm, mature and charming!'
Then a softer, gentler voice broke the silence. "Let me hold him," a woman's voice whispered, carrying both exhaustion and affection.
The woman holding him turned and, with great care, handed him over to the figure on the bed. Richard's eyes shifted, taking in the young woman who now held him.
She was beautiful, with flowing brown hair, warm eyes, and a serene expression that seemed almost ethereal. Her peachy lips curved into a smile as she gazed at him with an expression of pure joy and pride.
He felt her rocking him gently, and her voice softened as she cradled him close. "Mother is happy to have birthed you. Be a good boy and don't cry too much."
'Mother? What the fuck?!'
'The goddess really went ahead and sent me regardless of my opinion, huh?'
Only now did he realise in truth that he'd actually been reborn. As a child!
'I really have been reborn and if I'm correct, this should be Taphnor.'
He was still trying to come to terms with it all when he heard his mother's voice again.
"His name shall be Ivan," she said, her tone firm yet loving. Richard blinked, his mind trying to grasp that name—his new name.
Just then, the door creaked open, and a man entered, his face lighting up with a smile. He was tall, with a strong, regal presence, yet his gaze softened as he looked at the woman holding Richard.
"Dear husband," she greeted him warmly, the affection in her voice clear.
Another round of realization settled over Richard like a weight. 'Of course that's my new father. Tch! Such a good looking young man. You're worthy.'
This man was his father. He watched as his mother shared the news, "It is a boy. And I named him Ivan."
The man's face brightened even more, and he crossed the room in long strides, kneeling by the bed as he reached for both his wife and his new son.
Gently, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, murmuring words of thanks. "My love, you've done more than enough. I couldn't ask for any more at this point."
"Thank you, woman of my heart." He smiled as he pulled back slightly to allow their son space as he was currently in between them.
Turning his gaze to Richard, the man smiled, nodding his approval at the name his wife had chosen. "Ivan, that's a good name."
"And he's definitely got my eyes and your hair." The man smiled.
Upon closer inspection at his newly born kid, he added. "He even looks like me. Heh! You've blessed me with a mini me."
Richard could only look up at his new parents, his mind swirling with questions, disbelief, and an odd sense of resignation.
'Damn this! Let's just go with the whole thing for now. Mother and father aren't that bad.'
He felt something stirring within him—a curiosity, a strange thrill at the chance to live differently.
'Besides,' Richard's eyes wandered around the room for a brief moment and he found himself smiling. 'Father also looks wealthy. My simple rich life isn't ruined after all.' He had been reborn, thrust into a life he hadn't asked for but he'd make the best use of this chance.
Before he could process it further, the middle-aged woman, who had been holding him earlier, cleared her throat. She addressed Richard's father with a respectful bow, "My lord, my lady needs rest after her labor."
Her tone was calm but insistent, and Richard's father nodded, standing with a final, lingering look at his wife and son before leaving the room.
The midwife took Richard from his mother's arms, whispering reassurances to her as she carried him out of the room. He couldn't resist glancing back at his mother, who watched him with a soft smile before letting her eyes drift shut, exhaustion finally claiming her.
In the hall, the midwife held him gently, rocking him to ensure he didn't cry, her footsteps echoing as she carried him away to tend to him in another room.
She whispered softly, lulling him into a state of strange calm. He closed his eyes, letting the soothing rhythm of her steps lull him into a light sleep, his mind churning over his new reality.
»«»«
A couple of hours passed before the midwife returned to check on his mother. She entered the room with Richard in her arms, a quiet smile on her face as she prepared to announce his return. But the sight that greeted her wiped the smile from her lips in an instant.
His mother lay on the bed, unmoving. Her peaceful expression was now starkly cold, her skin pale. A deep, crimson stain marked the place where she'd been stabbed, the wound directly over her heart. Beside her, the maid who had assisted in the birth lay sprawled on the floor, another crimson stain blooming from her chest.
The midwife's eyes widened in horror, and she stifled a gasp, clutching Richard protectively to her chest. She took a step back, her voice trembling as she whispered, "My lady…"
But her voice was met only by silence.
Richard could only say three words. Or rather think.
'What the fuck?'