A sea of stars passed before my eyes, transforming into a hazy symphony of colors, only to be abruptly replaced by a blinding light that forced me to close my eyes.
What... what was happening?
Finding solace in the comfortable darkness, a cascade of memories began to flow through my mind.
Memories... I couldn't quite recall.
A cheerful woman's voice.
"Peek-a-boo! Ah! What a lovely smile, ******!"
A toddler's cry.
"Pass the ball, ******!"
An elderly man's booming speech.
"Please come up to the stage to receive your diploma, ****** ****."
A child's plea.
"Come play with me, Big Brother!"
I was confused, but at the same time... calm.
As if I was too tired to think about what exactly was happening.
The myriad memories and confusion faded as the moments passed, before the pain abruptly woke me from my peaceful state.
Blinding, itching pain.
Every part of my skin prickled as if it were on fire, making me scream in anguish.
But for some reason… it sounded muffled.
Distorted, as if my ears were clogged with water.
But little by little, the world around me began to clear.
The pain throughout my body subsided, and I could hear the quiet surroundings again.
Well… I could faintly hear the crackling of a fireplace, so it wasn't completely silent, but it was still peaceful.
With the rustic noise in the background calming my senses, I finally felt the urge to open my eyes once more.
Then, slowly, I lifted my eyelids.
There was no dazzling brightness, but oddly enough… it took a lot more effort than I thought it would.
And what greeted me was the scene… blurry.
That was a little disappointing.
But as time passed, my vision gradually cleared, revealing the sight of a rustic wooden roof, with a singular beam spanning the ceiling.
Weird… this was all very strange.
That roof… felt so far away.
I raised my hand and tried to reach the wooden beam, but… my hands… were so small and… chubby.
Like a baby's.
"Huh?"
"…Huh?"
"…What?"
That was… my voice?
"Huh??"
W-What?
"Gubfaaa!"
I… was I a baby?
Why was I a baby?
No… Why did it seem strange to me?
Why did that seem wrong?
Why do I even know I'm a baby?!
Who… who was I?
Where am I?
I can't... I can't remember, but I feel like I'm missing something.
A part of me just... wasn't there.
Shocked and confused by it all, a face suddenly appeared in my vision.
It was a woman.
A pretty woman.
She had light blonde hair tied in a braid that rested over her shoulder, and her eyes were a beautiful deep brown that perfectly matched her pretty but mature face.
If I had to guess, she looked about 20 years old.
"Oh, Myraha? Dukara neexi malkalith?" the beautiful woman said before lifting me into her arms.
She smiled at me, her pale face filled with love as her hand slowly caressed my cheek.
She spoke, words I couldn't identify, I didn't even know why.
But besides her, I could see that there were several people in the room.
There were two middle-aged women in black and white suits and a little girl who was wetting towels in a bucket while looking at me curiously.
"Buhara kesta neptolina neexi tolca?" a man's voice came out of nowhere.
I quickly turned my head to look at him, and our eyes met.
He was a burly man, with muscles hidden in his elegant suit, along with dark brown hair that ended in a small ponytail.
He looked me up and down, as if inspecting me, and his gaze lingered on my crotch, which made him smile, a proud smile that somehow didn't stay on his face at all.
"Bunba Paul neexa!" the man announced.
"Paul..." the woman holding me murmured.
She smiled at me, her pale face filled with love as her hand slowly caressed my cheek.
"Du rylaxa arata striti, Paul," she said, her breath coming short at the end.
Was this… my mother? That's… natural, I guess.
Then my mother pulled down her shirt, exposing her bare chest, before gently placing my face next to it.
"Dirkadica Groavin elixia, Paul."
No… I couldn't understand what she was saying, but I think I got the point.
Besides, my stomach was starting to churn with hunger.
But for some reason… even though it was normal for a baby, I found it quite embarrassing to do it for some reason I didn't understand, it seemed to be subconscious, in addition to feeling a tickle in my crotch…
But I still needed to eat.
As soon as I clung to her, I let the natural process take its course while my head became more foggy with each passing second, bringing me closer and closer to the embrace of unconsciousness. And that's how I spent my first day in the world.
....
It had been a month since I was born.
Or at least… I think so.
Time was strange when I was a baby.
Not only was it my perception of free time, but I was also plagued by the constant need to take a nap, which complicated things even further.
And that's not to mention that I could only guess the time of day by the light coming through the door, since we had no windows in this luxurious room.
Anyway, my perception of time didn't really matter, as this was a period of self-reflection and a time to figure out what was going on with my life.
First… my name.
It was Paul; I didn't know if there was a middle or last name, but there should be.
As for how I was able to infer all of that… well, that had more to do with the self-reflection part.
I was well-informed.
I… knew things.
Things I shouldn't do, and things without any memory to back up the knowledge.
For example, I knew that 5 times 5 equals 25, without remembering where I'd learned it from.
It was just... there.
As were all the other pieces of my knowledge.
How I knew I was a baby, how I knew most babies weren't like me, how I knew what "windows" and "time" were... yes.
It was strange, to say the least.
Then there was my living situation.
Apparently, I was born into a very wealthy family; I could tell simply by the way the room was decorated.
The bed was king-sized, if I recall correctly, with silk sheets and bordered curtains. Plus, my mother owned several fine wooden wardrobes and hundreds of perfumes, dresses, and makeup, and that's all I could barely see.
And from my mother's appearance, I knew she had everything it took to be a highborn woman.
But besides that, there was my father, or at least I think so.
Since I was born, he's only come to visit us four times, and always at night, so I don't get to see him very often, but I can tell he's the kind of stoic, strict man.
The kind who wouldn't expect anything but perfection from his offspring.
The thought alone made me shudder, and I could see that his relationship with my mother wasn't the best of all.
Luckily for her, I didn't cry unless I was extremely hungry or needed to be changed, so I didn't disturb her sleep despite the cramped living conditions she had with my father.
And that brought me to the last thing… my mother.
She was pretty, but other than that, she wasn't particularly special.
Aside from the love and affection she gave me, of course.
That was very special, at least to me.
Although I still didn't know her name and she wouldn't take more than ten steps from her bed unless helped by one of those girls in a black and white dress...
My mother was a kind, if somewhat clumsy, mother, and she talked to me as much as she could, which was a great way for me to get used to the language.
I also responded to her when I could, though I limited myself to babbling and chirping.
But my mother seemed to get a little happier each time I tried, and my articulation was slowly improving with practice, so it was worth it.
Despite her constant conversations, with no reference for most of the words and phrases, I still needed some time before I could speak the language fluently, but at least now I knew a few things commonly said to me, like "milk" and "food."
Regardless, although I was curious about the outside world, for the time being, I was still confined to my crib, and so I spent the time slowly developing my motor skills and vocabulary.
It was quite boring, to say the least.
...
So another two months passed.
Although again, that was only my estimate.
And in these two months, things… have stayed pretty much the same, at least in our general situation.
But I can move around now!
I was sure this was strange for such a tiny baby, and judging by the surprised look on my mother's face when I started crawling, my suspicions were confirmed.
I guess I was a little more advanced then.
Hmm…
I wonder if the fact that I was fully conscious changed things, or maybe I was just… built differently.
But either way, life seemed a lot less boring now that I could explore the room, small as it was.
Unfortunately, I was still too short to reach the door handle, so I couldn't make any progress.
And that wasn't all!
"Seriously, Paul… I don't know why you're so eager to get out."
I could understand my mother!
Of course, I still had trouble with vocabulary and my vocal cords weren't developed enough to respond, but it was progress!
My mother, who didn't yet have a name, picked me up and placed me on her lap as I let her hands run through my soft, silky hair.
"It's a bad omen for children to go outside before they're one, you know!" she pouted, gently touching my nose with her finger.
Ow! That cracked me up! Stop it, Mother!
But yes... that was the main reason they wouldn't let me through that dreaded door, even though I often sat in front of it, begging my mother with my eyes to let me out.
A 'bad omen.'
I could only assume it was due to environmental concerns, as newborns were terrible at regulating their body temperature, or perhaps they were worried about infections and diseases.
I wonder if this was a custom in this particular place or if it was common around the world.
Oh, and that's another thing I learned.
The "place" I lived in... was a mansion.
And how did I know? Well, it was simply after trying to sneak around a little.
Every day, two women my mother calls "maids" come to the room to bring us food and help my mother with some "needs."
And on one of those days, I simply crawled to the half-open door as fast as I could and managed to peek through it, even if only a little.
What greeted me were endless hallways with chandeliers, luxurious paintings, and a red embroidered carpet on the floor before one of the maids picked me up from the floor to return me to my crib.
I was a little surprised, to be honest, although I expected it.
But that's life.
"Mmm... You're hungry, Paul? It's time to sleep, right?"
Hey!
I was a little hungry, though I didn't show it.
I guess it was a maternal intuition or something like that.
While she readjusted her dress, I got ready for lunch.
"Hmm... I wonder why you always close your eyes before eating," she said curiously.
Because it's already embarrassing enough!
Uugh...
Today, like every day, my mother offered me her breast to suckle, which I found incredibly uncomfortable, but my survival depended on it, so with a sigh of resignation, I began to drink my milk.
So my life continued like this for a couple of months and oh boy was it boring.