It has been two years since I arrived in this world. My life is currently a cycle of eating, sleeping, and waiting for someone to clean up my various bodily fluids.
It is a humiliating existence, but I have learned to adapt. In my previous life, I was a corporate slave. I was used to boring routines and annoying bosses.
Being a baby is not much different, except my bosses are not much nicer and they not occasionally kiss my forehead.
I have maintained my sanity by treating my infancy like a top secret intelligence mission. I am a spy in a crib. While my parents think I am staring at dust motes or trying to find my own feet, I am actually gathering data.
I am determined to master the rules of this world before I am old enough to walk. Knowledge is the only weapon I have right now.
One afternoon, I received the confirmation I had been waiting for. I was being prepared for my bath. My mother, Elara, was standing over a large wooden tub.
There was no hot water tap. There was no heater.
She simply placed her hand near the surface of the water. She whispered a few words I did not quite understand. A soft, blue light pulsed from her palm. Suddenly, steam began to rise from the tub.
My heart skipped a beat. This was it. This was definitive proof. This was a world with magic. I had suspected it based on some of the things I had seen, but this was undeniable. It was not a trick of the light. It was not a hidden pipe. It was pure, beautiful sorcery.
I felt a surge of pure joy. I was so excited that I lost control of my bodily functions. I felt a familiar, warm sensation in my diaper.
I had soiled myself from the sheer thrill of seeing a basic heating spell. It was a new low point in both of my lives.
I was a 32 year old man who had just pooped himself because he saw a woman act like a human microwave. I closed my eyes in shame as Elara laughed and told me I was a "stinky little miracle."
Once I was clean and dry, I went back to my mental catalog. I am keeping a detailed record of everything I observe.
The language is interesting. It sounds a bit like the medieval European languages I heard in some of my old RPGs. It is rhythmic and a little guttural. I cannot read the script yet, but I have seen some books on a shelf in the main room.
They look old and heavy.
The technology level is definitely medieval. We have wooden tools, stone hearths, and candles. However, the presence of magic changes everything.
Why invent a water heater when you can just point your finger and think warm thoughts? I need to figure out how common magic is.
My mother seems like a normal farmer's wife, yet she can heat water. This suggests that basic magic might be accessible to everyone.
Elara is my primary source of information. She talks to me constantly while she does her chores. She describes the weather, the plants in the garden, and the neighbors. She treats me like a tiny, mute therapist.
It is very helpful.
Because of her constant chatter, I am rapidly absorbing the language. I can understand about 60 percent of what she says now. I am careful to hide my intelligence.
If I start speaking in full sentences too early, they might think I am a demon or a changeling. I make sure to drool and stare blankly into space to maintain my cover. It is a tiring performance, but it is necessary for my survival.
My father, Gareth, is another piece of the puzzle. He is a hardworking man, but he is not a typical peasant. He returned home one evening after a trip to a nearby town. He mentioned a place called the Adventurer's Guild.
From the conversation between him and my mother, I learned some fascinating things. Gareth used to be an adventurer. He was a C-rank, which apparently means he was fairly competent. He had to retire after a serious injury during a mission. I noticed he has a slight limp when he walks after a long day in the fields.
My initial reaction was excitement. Having a father who was an adventurer is like being the son of a professional athlete. I started dreaming about him teaching me how to fight and tell stories of dragons and dungeons.
But then, reality set in. If my father was a professional monster hunter, that means monsters are a real, tangible threat. This world is not just pretty lights and floating islands. It is a place where you can get your leg chewed off by a giant spider for a handful of silver coins.
I am currently a helpless infant. If a monster decided to attack our farmhouse, I would be nothing more than a bite sized snack. I cannot even roll over properly yet. The thought of mortal danger being a common career path made my stomach churn. I needed to get strong, and I needed to do it quickly.
That night, I decided to conduct my first magical experiment. I waited until my parents were asleep. The house was quiet. I lay in my crib and focused all of my mental energy. I had read countless light novels about magic.
They all said the same thing. You have to find the "mana" inside your body. You have to feel the flow of energy.
I closed my eyes and tried to visualize a core of power in my chest. I concentrated on my breathing. I pushed my awareness inward. I waited for a spark of light or a warm tingle. I strained so hard that my face turned red. I felt like I was trying to move a mountain with my mind.
The result was disappointing. I did not feel a core of power. I did not feel a flow of energy. Instead, I gave myself a massive baby migraine. My head throbbed with a dull pain. The strain was too much for my underdeveloped nervous system.
I felt a wave of nausea and ended up spitting up on my own chest. I lay there in the dark, covered in lukewarm milk, feeling like a total failure.
Maybe the books were wrong, I thought. Or maybe I am just a dud. Maybe I have no magical talent at all. That would be the ultimate joke. Reincarnated into a fantasy world as a magically impotent commoner.
I refused to accept that. I would keep trying. I had to.
Later that night, the clouds moved away from the window. I looked out and saw the sky. My breath caught in my throat.
There were two moons hanging in the darkness. One was large and pale white. The other was smaller and had a soft, greenish tint.
They looked like giant eyes watching over the world. This was the final confirmation. I was definitely not on Earth. Tokyo was millions of miles away, or perhaps in another dimension entirely.
I stared at the moons and made a solemn vow. My first life was a waste. I spent it working for people who did not care about me. I spent it chasing digital girls and eating cheap noodles. This time, I am going to do things differently.
I am going to master magic, even if it kills me. I am going to build a harem of beautiful women who are actually real. I am going to live a lazy, comfortable life where I never have to answer to a boss again. I have been given a second chance, and I am not going to waste it on being a hero. I do not want to save the world. I just want to enjoy it. I am going to be the most powerful, shameless, and lazy bastard this world has ever seen.
I felt a sense of purpose. I was ready to conquer. I was ready to become a legend.
I reached up and stuck my thumb in my mouth. I began to suck on it rhythmically. The dramatic moment was slightly undercut by my biological need for comfort, but I did not care. I was a baby with the soul of a degenerate genius. The world was not ready for Cid Arnett.