Suddenly, I jolt awake.
My body shifts — not of my own will. A pressure pushes against me from behind, tightening, forcing me forward.
It's time.
Freedom.
As I slowly slide out of my warm isolation, I steady my thoughts.
'I'm about to meet my new parents.'
A flicker of memory flashes — my parents from my previous life. They cared for me. They did their best.
What happened to them after I died?
The thought lingers for only a moment.
Suddenly—
Blinding light.
I squint. My vision, so long used to dim crimson hues, is assaulted by flashing brightness.
'I'm finally out.'
After a few minutes, my eyes begin to adjust. I'm lying on something soft — a cotton sheet, warm and faintly damp.
Three figures lean over me, their voices foreign, their words incomprehensible.
On my right, two people stand close together.
A tall man with piercing green eyes and impossibly long, silky black hair. He wears a dark cloak embroidered with elegant white petals over a fitted gi.
watching me with intense focus.
Father, I assume.
Beside him, a woman. Blood-red eyes. Jet-black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She wears the same black cloak, though hers bears a red sash at the waist. Her gaze is sharp — yet troubled.
My mother.
On the left stands a third figure: a woman in a white robe. The nurs.
She cradles me in her arms.
Her hands tremble slightly.
She looks… afraid.
In fact, all three of them do.
Why?
What could they possibly fear in a newborn baby?