'I… really was reborn.'
He lay on soft bedding, wrapped in a blanket small enough for an infant-small enough for him now. His hands were tiny fists. His legs only twitched when he tried to move.
Around him, voices overlapped in rushed panic.
"It's impossible-"
"No record-absolutely none-"
"The prophecy has always stated a single child!"
"The chosen daughter, the miracle the world has been waiting for-"
"So how… how did a son appear?"
The room felt crowded with disbelief. Atticus' heartbeat thudded in his ears, tiny but frantic.
He had known he wasn't alone when he woke, had sensed another presence, another breath, another life. But he hadn't expected… These are many people.
A woman leaned over him-young, exhausted, tears still drying on her cheeks. The mother of this body. She trembled as she touched his sister beside him.
His twin.
She was looking at him, and her hand had already clutched his own in a tight grip. She was… beautiful. Fragile. And utterly unaware of the future that awaited her.
'Luna…The chosen priestess. The world's miracle. The one destined to heal the broken world and bring peace.'
He remembered the story. The only child the world itself expected…and his husband's destined partner
Which meant-
Atticus swallowed, or tried to. His throat was too small to manage it properly.
"I told you that there was no son in that prophecy. What did you all do wrong?"
Someone whispered sharply near the bed.
"W-We did not do anything-?"
"Maybe-maybe the world made a mistake?"
"The world does not make mistakes."
Atticus wanted to laugh, or scream. The world absolutely made mistakes? He was living proof that it did.
But as he watched the adults crowd around, their expressions shifting between confusion and calculation, a cold certainty settled beneath his newborn heartbeat.
'I'm an anomaly again.'
Just like before-an extra character. Someone who shouldn't exist. A piece that didn't fit the narrative.
And extra pieces… were usually removed.
"How do we handle this? What do we do with him?"
Another voice asked.
A pair of hands reached toward him. Not gentle nor cruel either-just detached. Atticus felt himself lifted, his tiny body dangling awkwardly. Panic jolted through him as the air chilled around him.
"Careful! Don't hurt him."
Someone scolded weakly.
"Why not? We need to determine what this means. A child born without destiny is a risk. An error. What if he harms the priestess? What if his existence interferes with her-"
A man snapped.
"Her development?"
Atticus' small fingers curled desperately. His heart hammered in his chest, his infant body too fragile to express anything beyond a whimper.
A hand brushed his cheek. Cold.
"Set him aside. We should separate them until we know more."
'No-don't.'
He didn't know where the fear came from. Maybe from dying once already. Maybe from remembering what it felt like to have no place in the world. Maybe from understanding instinctively, clearly-that a newborn with no significance could disappear without trace.
Luna stirred and her tiny fingers twitched. Then her face scrunched-and the air filled with a sharp, sudden wail.
Her cry pierced the room, loud and distressed.
The adults froze as the sound swelled, echoing against the walls. Luna's arms flailed blindly toward the space Atticus had occupied moments ago.
"She's-she's crying because he moved!"
The mother cried out.
"Impossible. Infants don't-"
But Luna kept crying, her body struggling weakly, her little face reddening as tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked desperate, like she was searching for something that had been taken away.
Searching for him.
The man holding Atticus hesitated. His grip loosened slightly.
And Luna wailed even louder.
"For heaven's sake, give him back!"
One of the midwives snapped, reaching forward.
Atticus was placed back beside his sister, the blanket rustling as he was gently lowered.
The moment he touched the mattress next to her, Luna's crying wavered.
A second passed.
Another.
Then she quieted, her tiny breaths calming as she inched closer, almost instinctively. Her forehead brushed lightly against his arm.
A stunned silence filled the room.
"…They're connected,"
Someone whispered.
"Twins often are."
"But this is…"
"Perhaps, the boy should remain near her. At least until her consciousness forms. Until she stabilizes in this world."
The elder priest murmured slowly.
The decision snapped into place with reluctant acceptance.
He had been on the verge of being taken away, cast aside, maybe worse-but Luna had shielded him without even knowing it.
'I really did dodge a bullet. Hurray for the female lead.'
He let out a tiny breath, the closest thing to relief his newborn lungs could manage.
"Luna…My sweet Luna… you scared Mama."
The mother whispered, brushing a kiss to her daughter's forehead.
The people around the bed cooed and soothed her.
No one said Atticus's name….did he even have a name? Somehow, he did not think he had a name…or even belonged here.
Atticus stared up at the shifting ceiling, the blurry figures hovering above, and understood with a clarity he wished he didn't have:
'They don't see me as part of her story.'
He had been born only moments ago, yet they were already discussing what to do with him, how long he should stay, whether he was safe to keep around the chosen one.
He had survived the first test purely because Luna cried.
How long until she stopped needing him?
How long until the adults decided he was no longer necessary?
What then?
Atticus swallowed the panic tightening in his tiny chest.
He remembered the feeling of falling-of wind tearing at his body-the moment death swallowed him in the last life. He remembered thinking that maybe that was his release.
But he wasn't free.
He was back here again.
Same world.
Same story.
'I won't survive this world if Luna doesn't need me. I won't survive if I remain irrelevant.'
He turned his head toward Luna, watching her tiny face relax as she drifted back to sleep. Her breaths were soft puffs against his cheek.
She was innocent, but she was also the source of all his future tragedies that were to come. But for now, she was his saviour.
'I'll stay by her side. As long as she needs me. As long as she wants me. As long as it keeps me alive.'
He didn't want to rely on a baby to survive, but he had no choice.
Voices murmured around him, drifting into the distance as exhaustion tugged at his tiny body.
"Keep the boy near her."
"Just until she grows a little."
"We'll decide what to do with him later."
He already knew what that meant.
Later.
When Luna no longer cried for him, he would face his end.
'I died once already. I won't let them take this second life so easily.'
Luna shifted closer, her forehead soft against his arm.
The murmurs grew more organized-less frantic, more clinical. Atticus could hear the shift even with his newborn ears. The panic was fading, replaced with cold decision-making.
"The twins should be moved to the nursery. It will be easier to monitor them together."
One midwife said.
"We can't separate them anyway. Luna reacts too strongly. If we distress the chosen child, the consequences could be severe."
Another replied.
Atticus almost snorted…or tried to.
They weren't keeping him because they cared. They were keeping him because Luna cried.
A deeper voice-one of the elder priests-cleared his throat.
"Before we place them in the nursery, we must check their marks. The goddess would not have allowed a second child without reason."
Atticus felt hands shift him, turning him slightly so a faint glow could be examined at the nape of his neck. The light was soft, wavering-like something about him couldn't quite stabilize.
"…Omega."
The word dropped like a stone.
A hush swept across the room.
"What?"
"Are you certain?"
"Omegas are… so fragile."
"We cannot afford another weak child-not next to an Enigma."
Atticus blinked.
'Omega? Of course. Because my life wasn't complicated enough.'
Once again, he was born in the cursed body.
Meanwhile, they moved to Luna-his sister. Her tiny body shimmered with a quiet, pulsing light.
"Enigma. Just like the prophecy said."
The priest confirmed.
"And just like the Hero…"
Another whispered.
Atticus's stomach tightened.
His previous husband was an Enigma. His new sister was an Enigma.
He was… an Omega.
'Why is the universe obsessed with making me dependent on someone else?'
The mood thickened with worry.
"We cannot raise an omega boy beside the chosen priestess. There will be too much protest from the nobles who seek an omega for their own use. We cannot allow an abomination like him to have such a high rank."
A noblewoman murmured.
"So we alter his registry."
Atticus stilled.
"What do you mean alter…?"
"Register the child a female beta."
The noblewoman continued.
"That would avoid future complications-politically and spiritually."
"It will allow them to stay together until Luna no longer needs the bond."
"And once she doesn't…"
The sentence hung unfinished, but Atticus understood.
Once Luna didn't need him, he would become disposable again-just in a different gender.
A soft rustle brushed his shoulder. Luna shifted, pressing her tiny forehead to his cheek, as if she sensed the tension.
"Very well. Register the omega child as female-beta. She will remain by the chosen priestess's side until the goddess reveals her will."
The elder priest said at last. "
The decision was made.
His fate sealed.
Atticus lay still, absorbing the weight of it.
'Reborn as a girl… a beta… just to survive.'