I was Aren Venta Asteria, Grand Commander of the most powerful nation in the world… but that is no longer my identity, for better or worse.
My new name is Novis Bellator, a boy with black hair and grey eyes, son of commoners Davin Bellator, a handsome man with short jet-black hair and crystal-red eyes, and Clara Bellator, a beautiful woman with long brown hair tied in a ponytail and gray eyes. She is my mother, of course.
…I'm not used to having parents, to be honest. In my past life I was raised by military officials who saw me as an experiment, a successful one... Though I failed my purpose in the end.
"Open wide!" My mother holds a wooden spoonful of porridge, inching it toward my mouth. I'm perched on a stool, her arm behind my back to keep me from falling.
I comply; Clara feeds me, then draws the spoon away.
"He's so cute, isn't he, honey?" she asks Davin, who just nods, still engrossed in oiling his bow. My father is a hunter. Clara turns back to me, her eyes brimming with care.
I'm not used to this. It's strange. The feeling is strange, one I've never known.
Putting that aside, it has been four years since I was reincarnated, and today is my birthday. Life here is peaceful; I haven't seen a single person die.
With this weak body there's little I can do but rely on my parents. I don't like it, yet—for some reason, I can't say I hate it either.
At least I understand what they're saying. I'm not sure if that's thanks to Curiosity's gift, but, as she promised, I do remember my past life, though the memories are fuzzy, probably because of my infant brain. Only recently have my thoughts felt this clear.
Unfortunately, I've learned almost nothing about this world. We own no books; as a poor family in what seems a medieval society, we can't afford such luxuries.
So I must rely on what my parents say, and because they think I barely understand, they don't explain much. I'm fairly sure even a normal four-year-old can grasp basic language, but they've never had another child.
After the last spoonful, Clara carries the bowl back to the kitchen, letting go of my back. For some reason, even her porridge tastes delicious, fitting, since she cooks at a tavern in town called Gamcol.
We live in a one-story house of wood and stone: three rooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom. Not bad, considering our station, perhaps standard for poorer families here. It's good enough; I've seen far worse.
I look at my body. I still feel uncomfortable seeing my own skin, a phobia from before death, when I hid under layers of clothing. It's weaker now, but it followed me here nonetheless.
Father stands, pats my head, and says, "Well, I've got to hunt. I should be back before you leave for work, Clara."
Mother comes from the kitchen, and hugs Davin. "Good luck, dear."
He smiles, returns the embrace, then heads out.
These four years have taught me something.
Before, I used people, strangers, friends, even loved ones, as tools for Esitia's goal, believing it greater than any life. I didn't want to, but I thought I had to. In the end, it was for nothing.
And it was my fault. They trusted me; I made them throw away their lives for a victory that never came. I'm nothing but a murderer, their blood simply never touched my hands.
Back then I couldn't be truly ruthless; I hesitated even with the advantage, and we lost. Everything was in vain.
Never again. Anyone who gets in my way, or threatens those I care about will, without hesitation, die.
That I swear.
___
After Father leaves, Mother begins the laundry, so I wander to my bedroom. The door is open thankfully.
Though I don't hate Clara's affection, it unsettles me, and there's little to do while she's busy.
With no books, I usually sit on the bed and stare out the window at the nearby wheat field, a wonderful sight, nothing like my old world. It helps me think: I must learn more about this world soon. Delay only hurts you; I learned that the hard way.
Maybe I should just ask Mother or Father. My teeth came in long ago so I can speak; would they find it strange? No, curiosity is natural for a toddler, right? Admittedly, I didn't interact with children before.
"What do I do? Is that my only option?" I mutter.
"Finally curious?" a soft voice says to my left.
I turn to see heterochromic eyes, a playful smile, blonde hair swaying, Curiosity, a hair's breadth from my face.
I jerk back, hit my head on the wooden bedframe, and scream before I can stop.
"Novis?!" Mother's voice from down the hall.
Curiosity kneels on the bed, almost translucent.
Clara rushes in, scoops me up, ignoring Curiosity entirely. "Oh dear, are you okay?" She rocks me.
"Yes, Mom," I answer, still cringing at my child's voice. I haven't talked much, so I'm still not used to it.
"Just in case…" She places a hand on my head. A green orb forms near her chest; warmth flows from her hand and the pain vanishes. The orb fades. She sighs in relief and holds me a while longer.
"Thank goodness you're all right… Do you want to come to the kitchen with Mama?"
She still calls herself mama in front of me, though, I've never once called her that in my life.
I shake my head. "I want to sleep, Mom."
"Very well, just don't fall off the bed again, okay?" She tucks me in, smiles, and leaves, closing the door.
I turn to the ghostly figure. "All right, what are you doing here, and how?"
Swinging her legs, Curiosity touches a finger to her lips. "My gift lets me appear in this form, invisible to everyone but you, as long as I'm nearby. As for what I'm doing: you want to learn about this world, don't you, Aren dear?"
She still uses my old name. No, Novis is my name now. Still, if she has information…
"You'll tell me about this world?" I ask, doubting that it'll be free.
"Of course. I gave you my gift; if a being who embodies curiosity can't answer your questions, who can?" she says, pride in her gentle tone.
"Then why appear only now? I've been able to speak for three years."
"Because you finally want to learn. Before, you were enjoying family life, understandable, given your past." She tilts her head, smiling.
I can't argue.
She reaches into thin air, pulls out a sweet, and pops it into her mouth.
Why am I not surprised?
"And I'll be following you from now on," she adds. "Instead of merely watching, I thought it'd be interesting to join the story." She smiles that same unsettling smile.
So much for alone time, but if she provides the information I need…
"Very well. Tell me: what is this world?"
Curiosity closes her eyes in thought, then opens them, smile wider than ever. "I'll be glad to tell you, curious human."