I was awake. I felt myself in the arms of a white woman who was holding me firmly. *How is this woman holding me like this? I’m sure I’m not that light… Oh, right, I reincarnated. So, I must be a baby now.*


    She handed me over to another woman—probably my new mother. She was white, with blonde hair. *Hm… I think she’s European.*


    *Wait a minute… I REINCARNATED WHITE?!*


    That damn angel made me born a different color? That’s what I thought until I took a better look around. The woman holding me was white, so I assumed I was too. But when I looked closer, I saw a man nearby. He looked about 30, a little chubby… and Black. *If he’s my father, then I’m mixed.*


    Not that I have a problem with being white, but I love my skin color. I didn’t want to be different.


    — *Gsjsjj sjsjs hshsh jshsbs* — my mother said.


    — *Sjjss jsisis jsisis usisiu* — my father replied.


    — *Hsjsjsi sjisissj sjsjisis* — added the other woman, probably the midwife.


    I couldn’t understand their language. I know a little English, so I’m sure it wasn’t that. It sounded like German… But I’ve never spoken German, so I can only guess.


    Suddenly, the three of them started acting strange. My mother had tears in her eyes, and my father looked sad. Only the midwife kept a serious expression.


    *Ah… I get it. They think something’s wrong with me because I didn’t cry when I was born.*


    *Screw them, I’m not gonna cry just because they expect me to. I’m too grown for that.*


    The woman started sobbing. My father frowned, worried. The mood grew heavy.


    *Fine, fine, I’ll cry. Now stop making those faces!*


    — *Waaaaaah!* — I started wailing.


    The three of them looked relieved. My mother cried tears of joy and said something I didn’t understand. She pressed me against her chest.


    *Wait… Don’t tell me you’re gonna breastfeed me!*


    …


    *Oh, what nice breasts.*


    If I were standing, I’d have fallen backward with a sly grin.


    I tasted the milk.


    …*AHH!! How is this so sweet? So light? Is this really milk?!*


    *So this is what breast milk tastes like… Better than beer!*


    Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration… But damn, this is *so* good.


    ---


    ### **Five Months Later**


    Now I can understand a bit of their language. I guess being a baby makes my mind learn faster.


    I found out I have two older siblings: Sara and Gabi.


    Sara is a cute little girl with light skin and red hair. Which is weird because neither of our parents has red hair… *Did my dad get cuckolded?*


    Gabi, on the other hand, is blonde like Mom. He’s about five years old, while Sara is around three.


    And guess what they named me?


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    **Lázaro.**


    *WHAT A SHITTY NAME!*


    These people have *terrible* taste in names, I swear.


    *Anyway, where’s Mom? I want more of that angelic milk.*


    If I could sell this stuff, I’d be rich.


    — *Look at my sweetie, are you hungry?* — my mother said, smiling.


    — *He nurses a lot* — my father commented.


    — *Sometimes, he just grabs my breasts without nursing… But he’s a good boy, he doesn’t cry* — she said, laughing.


    — *Mom, can I see the baby?* — Gabi asked.


    *Get outta here, kid. I’m not sharing my milk with you.*


    ---


    ### **Two More Months Later**


    I can walk now.


    I’m a soldier—I can’t go around crawling like a weakling.


    I started exploring the house. Slowly, I realized these people are *really* poor. No TV, no phones, no air conditioning, no light bulbs… *nothing!*


    All they have are candles, fireplaces, and old wooden furniture. At least it looks nice. But there’s nothing modern here.


    *What the hell.*


    I got a second chance at life and *still* ended up poor.


    *Why doesn’t God like me, Creator?*


    *Couldn’t I have been born as a celebrity’s kid? Cristiano Ronaldo? Bill Gates?*


    Another thing I noticed: my family owns a candy shop.


    We live upstairs, and the ground floor is the store.


    I figured that out from the smell.


    I couldn’t go down alone because my parents were afraid I’d fall down the stairs. But sometimes, my mother would take me downstairs.


    That’s when I looked out the window and noticed something bizarre.


    The town was full of short buildings, two stories at most. The streets were busy, and most people were Black.


    But what pissed me off the most…


    There were no cars.


    Only horse-drawn carriages.


    And some weird people wearing cat costumes restraining… an animal with cat ears?


    *What the hell is this?!*


    *Did I end up in the past?!*


    I got depressed.


    That damn angel *must* be messing with me.


    Made me born into a family of bakers… *and* in the past?!


    From what I can tell, it must be around the year 1000. There’s nothing modern here.


    ---


    ### **The Debt Collectors**


    One day, our parents got some unexpected visitors.


    I was in my mother’s arms when the door opened. Two individuals walked in with stern expressions. One was a tall, muscular man wearing simple but well-kept metal armor. He had a hard, intimidating gaze. Beside him was a peculiar-looking woman in tight leather clothes—what caught my attention were her cat-like ears and tail. Up close, they looked incredibly real.


    My father stood up quickly, visibly nervous. My mother, however, squeezed my tiny hand against her chest, as if instinctively trying to protect me.


    — *We’ve come to collect the debt* — the cat-woman said, crossing her arms and glaring at my father with disdain.


    — *I… I still don’t have all the money* — my father replied cautiously.


    — *We’ve waited for months. The deadline is over.* — The knight’s voice was deep, laced with impatience.


    — *Please, just a little more time* — my mother begged. *Our business is still stabilizing, but we’ve made some progress. We just need a few more months to pay everything.*


    The cat-woman sighed impatiently and glanced at the knight. He huffed, clearly annoyed, then slowly walked up to my father. The room fell heavy with silence.


    — *We’ve given you enough time.* — His voice was cold.


    Before anyone could react, the knight raised his fist and punched my father hard in the face. The impact was so strong he fell to the ground, knocking over a chair.


    — *Daddy!* — Gabi screamed, trembling in fear.


    My mother held me even tighter, covering my head against her chest as if to shield me from seeing it. But I saw everything. The blood trickling from my father’s mouth, his frightened look as he tried to get up.


    Sara started crying softly.


    — *I’m not a patient man* — the knight continued, wiping his fist as if he’d just swatted a bug. *You have one month. If the money isn’t here by then, your little shop will burn to ashes… and your family will pay the price.*


    The cat-woman chuckled lightly, as if amused by the situation.


    — *I hope you’re better at selling sweets than managing money. We’ll see what happens next month.*


    She then tugged the knight’s arm, and the two left, leaving the door open. The cold wind from the street blew in, but the fear they left behind was even worse.


    My father stayed on the ground for a while, breathing heavily. My mother knelt beside him, carefully touching his face.


    — *Are you okay?* — Her voice trembled.


    He nodded but said nothing.


    Even as a baby, I felt something growing inside me. A deep anger. *This world is cruel. And if I ever want to protect my family, I’ll need strength.*


    ---


    ### **Ana Forner’s (Mother) Perspective**


    We’re a small family, new to this town. My husband, Mateus, and I weren’t born here; we moved just two years ago. I come from a land called Vilória, where my parents worked hard as peasants. Mateus was our neighbor, an orphaned boy.


    We came to this city to fulfill Mateus’ dream: opening a pastry shop. He always loved sweets, but his true passion was making them. However, we didn’t have enough money to start, so we turned to loan sharks. At first, we struggled to attract customers, and only after six months did business pick up. Even so, we still couldn’t pay off the entire debt…


    When we arrived here, Gabi and Sara were already my little companions. Sara was just one year old, and Gabi was three. My youngest, Lázaro, was born in this city, and he worries me a bit. He rarely cries, spending most of his time sleeping or observing everything around him. He started walking very early and barely talks… Gabi, my firstborn, inherited my blonde hair but has his father’s personality. He dreams of being a pastry chef like Mateus. Sara, on the other hand, is a cheerful, playful little girl with my mother’s red hair.


    Despite my concerns about Lázaro, life in the pastry shop went on. Mornings were always busy, the air filled with the sweet scent of freshly baked bread and cakes. Mateus, with a wide smile and flour-dusted hands, led the production, while Gabi watched in admiration, eager to learn every secret of the confectionery trade. Sara, with her bouncing red hair, helped clean tables and serve customers, always with an infectious smile.


    But the shadow of the debt loomed over us. Mateus worked tirelessly, creating new recipes and finding ways to attract more customers, but the pressure was constant. Nights were long and silent, filled with whispered conversations about how to pay the debt and secure our family’s future.


    ---


    ### **A Noble’s Visit**


    One day, a man entered slowly, adjusting his luxurious robes. He was a noble—that much was clear from the gold ring on his finger and the embroidered cloak draped over his imposing belly. Before leaving, he took another bite of the cake we’d served, savoring each mouthful with a satisfied gleam in his eyes.


    *“This cake… marvelous! I’ve never tasted anything like it,”* he said, licking his lips. *“I’ll always buy cakes here.”*


    Mateus lowered his head hesitantly and replied sadly, *“We appreciate that, sir, but… we won’t be selling cakes for much longer. We’re on the verge of closing. The debts are suffocating us.”*


    The noble frowned and crossed his arms over his large belly. *“Closing? A place with such divine cakes? That would be a waste.”*


    We stayed silent, unsure what to say. The man then smiled and slammed the table firmly. *“What if I help you financially? W


    ould you keep selling cakes?”*


    Our eyes widened. *“Sir… that would be a dream,”* I replied, barely believing it.


    *“Then it’s settled! Consider me your first loyal customer.”* He laughed heart