---
I was just sitting there doing nothing anyway. My skeleton hadn't developed enough to swing a sword, and apart from wasting a bit of mana here and there, I had nothing else to do. If that was the case, I might as well take the opportunity to improve the maid's opinion of me.
Yawning, I reached out, snatched a rag from Lilia, and started helping her wipe the stains on the table.
She glanced over at me, this cold and arrogant little boy, and leaned forward slightly.
"Hello, Miss Roya."
That was her little way of getting back at me. A verbal jab in response to how I'd acted earlier.
My hand froze mid-wipe. I slammed the table hard, and my expression finally cracked. Cold and childish all this time, I suddenly barked, "Call me Young Master Roya!"
The morning sunlight spilled across my face. I must've looked ridiculous—just a doll-faced toddler with a scowl, trying to act intimidating. My clear eyes probably looked like some serene mountain spring. If a stranger saw me, they'd think I was throwing a tantrum. But anyone who'd spent time with me knew better. Behind the iceberg-like exterior was a surprisingly gentle and considerate heart.
Lilia knew. She noticed the subtle signs—my slightly raised eyebrows, the way my cold gaze didn't actually sharpen. I wasn't really mad. When I got truly angry, my eyebrows would knit up, and my stare would turn sharp, icy. Right now? Not even close.
Looking at me—this serious yet oddly lovable two-year-old—Lilia's heart stirred a little.
This child… he's nothing like Paul.
She'd once assumed that Paul's child would inherit some of his infamous charm and recklessness, but here I was: composed, always thinking ahead, and constantly—though unintentionally—looking after others.
I had been helping Lilia in small ways ever since I could walk.
Still wiping the table with as much grace as my tiny body allowed, I turned to her and asked, "Lilia, how did you meet Father?"
She paused for a moment. Her soft Red hair brushed my shoulder as I moved beside her. That faint scent of hers—some natural floral aroma unique to children—lingered in the air. Clean, subtle, and calming.
"Probably back when I was learning swordsmanship," she said eventually. "I was his junior back then."
Her voice carried a slight edge. Whenever she brought up Paul, her expression always became more complicated.
I couldn't help but lift my chin and say with a hint of disdain, "Figures. Paul is always a headache for me."
Lilia gave me a sidelong glance. Though I always referred to Paul as "Father" in front of him, I had a habit of calling him by name in private. Technically rude, but she could tell I didn't mean it with malice.
She picked up another rag, dipped it in the wooden bucket, and continued cleaning the floor with practiced ease.
I noticed she didn't respond, so I spoke again. "Do you think the baby will be a boy or a girl?"
Lilia thought for a moment, then said, "I hope it's a girl. That way, there'll be one boy and one girl."
We both fell silent after that. Once the living room was spotless, I wiped the sweat from my forehead, waved lazily at Lilia, and headed back to my room.
Collapsing onto the bed, I stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought.
How was I going to deal with Rudeus?
Time passed quickly.
Autumn arrived, painting the world in gold. The sky was impossibly blue, and white clouds drifted lazily overhead. A breeze swayed the golden ears of rice outside, carrying with it the faint scent of wildflowers.
The sunlight was warm. Everything felt… good.
Today was a joyful day.
Zenith had given birth again.
As expected, the baby had golden hair. I even leaned in for a look.
A newborn with a big head and round cheeks, staring blankly at the world like he didn't belong. His dazed expression was exactly the same as mine had been when I first opened my eyes in this world.
Despite the innocence of it all, something still felt… off.
Paul and Zenith seemed lost for words. For the second time in a row, they had a child with eyes that were far too aware.
If I could've read their thoughts, I'd probably say, "Both of your sons are reincarnated, deal with it."
But even if they had their doubts, the happiness of a safe birth outweighed them.
Paul stepped forward excitedly, but the memory of my own birth must've hit him—he hesitated and stepped back.
Still, he stared at the baby in the cradle with wide eyes. "Healthy," he said to Zenith, his voice warm.
He gently placed Rudeus into Zenith's arms, that rare softness returning to his expression.
I stood nearby, arms crossed, brows slightly furrowed.
Rudeus Greyrat.
Sure, he was the protagonist in the original story, but let's be honest—his life was far from smooth.
He had been a NEET in his past life, and even in this new world, he was manipulated by humans and gods alike. Frankly, I never had a great impression of him.
Sure, he changed. He improved. But even so, I couldn't say I liked him.
The story of Mushoku Tensei was gritty and realistic. No one is born perfect. Even with a second chance at life, regret is inevitable.
I hadn't finished the series, only read through a couple of arcs. My knowledge was patchy at best. But now that I was here, living it, standing as Rudeus's older brother—I might as well make things better.
The teleportation incident, the Demon Continent, the Human God, the Dragon God… all these names and events floated through my mind, each more significant than the last. I didn't even realize how tightly my brows had drawn together.
In theory, I could crush the Human God's schemes alongside Orsted and bring about a true happy ending.
But another idea crossed my mind.
What if I defeated the Dragon God first? Could I absorb a huge amount of space-time power? Could I enslave him? Force him to kneel, kill the Human God, and tie the story up with a neat little bow?
But that begged the real question: could I even beat the Dragon God?
He was the strongest being in this world.
I silently glanced at my attribute panel.
Talent: Immaculate Body, Fool, Greed.
That combo was either divine or suicidal.
Still… maybe. Someday. But definitely not now. Trying it now would just get me killed.
As I mulled it all over, a loud cry pierced the air. I looked over to see Rudeus wailing, though clearly not from pain—he was being fed milk.
I clicked my tongue and gave him a cold side-eye.
This guy really is a disgrace.
Unlike me, who had insisted on bottle-feeding after the first time, this guy was nursing like a little pig.
Watching him drink with a satisfied look, I quietly scolded myself.
Damn it. It's all because of my stupid moral compass.
Once he finished eating, the novelty of having a breast shoved in his face wore off. Rudeus's gaze slowly shifted to me—the two-year-old child who'd been silently watching him this entire time.
Our eyes met.
His eyes widened. I could see the recognition, the interest.
He was clearly struck by how I looked—fair skin, golden hair down to my waist, delicate features, expressionless face. I must've looked like a porcelain doll.
Then… he smiled.
Oh no.
You could see the gears turning in his little head. Right then and there, he was probably thinking of making me his future bride.
But as soon as his gaze met mine again, and he saw the cold, sharp look in my eyes, he swallowed hard.
I didn't say a word. I didn't need to.
My stare said everything:
Who the hell do you think you are?
---