I learned something at age three that no one warns you about when you get reincarnated.
Having the mind of an adult in the body of a toddler is actual suffering.
For the past three years since my birth all I've done on this planet it Eat, Sleep, and Poop.
Of course, being a reincarnator I learned to walk and talk before kids my age but what of it. My parents kept me hidden from the world.
Seems like I was brought into this world to save it and what do I have to show for it. Being potty trained before I was able to utter my first words is the greatest achievement I have under my 3-year-old belt.
Yes, I am annoyed. I will not deny I am acting like a brat.
My steps were tiny. My balance was questionable at best. My vocabulary was limited.
But my brain?
My brain was screaming for stimulation like a starving grad student.
So naturally, I decided to go to the library.
The moment the midwife turned nanny turned away, I slipped out of the nursery with all the stealth a three-year-old could muster. Which wasn't much. I think I made eye contact with at least two maids. They let me go anyway because apparently "young master wandering is normal."
If only they knew where I was wandering.
I made my way to the grand double doors of the Ashencrest Library: towering, carved, and absolutely majestic. It felt like standing before the gates of heaven.
"This is it," I whispered, placing my tiny hand on the wood. "The treasure vault of knowledge. The answer to my boredom. The cure for my under-stimulated brain."
I pushed.
The doors didn't move.
Not even a wiggle.
I frowned and tried again, using all my toddler strength.
Still nothing.
"They're locked," I muttered.
Of course they were. Of course, responsible adults would lock ancient scrolls away from children who still struggled with shoelaces.
I pressed my forehead against the door dramatically.
Back on Earth, I would've Googled anything I wanted.
Here, the closest thing I had to the internet was a sealed door and a brain that remembered algebra.
This was punishment.
As I stood there contemplating my tragic fate, a pair of warm hands suddenly lifted me off the ground.
"Kaisel," Mother said gently, "what are you doing here?"
I pasted on my best innocent expression. "Walking."
"Walking to the library?" she asked, one brow raised.
"…Yes."
"At age three?"
I nodded, hoping leaning into the absurdity would help.
She sighed — the kind of sigh mothers reserve for troublemaking toddlers and eccentric noble husbands.
"Kaisel, love, you know you are not allowed in the library yet."
I crossed my tiny little arms and pouted the best I could. "But I want to learn."
"And you will," she said softly. "When you are five."
"That is so far away," I groaned.
"It is two years."
"Exactly. Forever."
Mother laughed under her breath and carried me down the hall. "You are too curious for your age."
(Actually, I was the correct amount of curious for someone mentally in their twenties, but I couldn't exactly explain that.)
As we reached the nursery door, she knelt so we were eye level. Her dark hair framed her gentle expression.
"You have a bright, quick mind," she said. "Sometimes too quick. But your father and I agreed. You awakened too intensely at birth. We must be careful about what you absorb. Knowledge can stir flames you cannot yet control."
My chest tightened a little.
Not in fear. Just frustration.
I wanted to say: Mom, I did college math. I paid taxes. I survived a Pandemic. I can handle a few books.
But my three-year-old mouth could only shape simpler words.
"…But I want to understand things."
"And you will," she repeated. "But not yet."
She brushed my hair aside with warm fingers and kissed my forehead.
"When the time comes, we will open the world to you. Trust me."
I didn't have a good argument.
And honestly… it wasn't a bad promise.
So I nodded.
"Okay."
Mother smiled, stood, and slipped out of the room.
The door clicked shut.
I stared at it for a long moment.
I wasn't mad.
Just… trapped in a very tiny body with a very large brain.
I lay back in my little bed and sighed deeply.
"Being three is suffering," I muttered to myself.
I closed my eyes.
The world would open eventually.
The books would open eventually.
I just had to wait.
Two years.
Basically, an eternity.
I could survive this.
Probably.