《Having a Lazy Life in Another World is Hard》 Cursing a God Aizek leaned back in his worn-out gaming chair, the fake leather peeling at the edges, revealing the foam underneath. His unkempt black hair stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat from hours of gaming. His dark brown eyes, half-lidded from exhaustion, burned with frustration as he stared at the bright, mocking DEFEAT screen flashing in front of him. His room was a disaster¡ªa true testament to his lifestyle. Empty soda cans stood stacked like a makeshift tower beside his monitor. Crumpled bags of chips and instant noodles littered his desk, their artificial scent mingling with the faint odor of unwashed laundry. The only light came from his monitor and the dull glow of his PC tower, pulsing with soft blue LED lights. His headset pressed against his ears, amplifying the voices of his so-called teammates. Their shouts were filled with anger, blame, and resignation. ¡°Report that Yuumi! No heals, no shields, no nothing!¡± Aizek snarled, his fingers flying across the keyboard, typing out insults in chat faster than he could process them. His rank had plummeted to an all-time low. Nine losses in a row. Nine. His left eye twitched. His right hand, gripping the mouse, trembled with barely contained rage. ¡°This is bullshit,¡± he muttered, voice hoarse from shouting. ¡°Why do I always get the trash teammates?¡± He reached for a half-empty can of soda, gulping down the lukewarm liquid. The carbonation burned slightly as it went down, but it did nothing to cool his anger. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of caffeine, salt, and pure, unfiltered frustration. Then it happened. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through his chest, like an invisible hand had just reached inside and clenched his heart in a vice grip. His breath hitched. The pain spread, burning and tightening, suffocating him. His vision blurred. The sounds in his headset became distant, distorted, like he was submerged underwater. His fingers went slack, his grip on the mouse failing. His body convulsed, his chair tipping back as he tumbled onto the floor. As he lay there, gasping, his final thought was not about his wasted life, nor about regrets. It was pure, unfiltered hatred. ¡°Fuck that Yuumi player¡­ May his whole family die from cancer.¡± Then¡ªdarkness. --- Consciousness returned, but something was wrong. Aizek found himself floating¡ªweightless, untethered, his body lost in an endless void of white. The space around him stretched infinitely in all directions, no up, no down, just a vast, empty expanse. He couldn¡¯t feel his limbs. He couldn¡¯t even tell if he had a body anymore. But he was aware. He could think, process, and most importantly¡ªquestion. ¡®Where¡­ am I?¡¯ His memories flooded back¡ªthe game, the heart attack, his fall. ¡®So I did die¡­¡¯ But why was he still conscious? Wasn¡¯t death supposed to be the end? Had he been sent to heaven? Hell? Or was this¡ªThis story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡®Oh, hell no¡­ is this one of those clich¨¦ reincarnation scenarios?¡¯ Before he could delve deeper into his existential crisis, a voice rang out, smooth yet teasing, laced with amusement. ¡°I mean, I could just send you straight to hell for a thousand years. That¡¯d be much easier.¡± Aizek would have flinched if he still had a body. Instead, his thoughts stuttered. ¡®Wait. What?¡¯ ¡°I¡ªNo! That¡¯s not what I meant!¡± he mentally blurted out. The voice chuckled. It was deep, yet carried an undeniable sense of playfulness, like someone suppressing laughter. ¡°Relax, kid. I¡¯m just messing with you. But since you¡¯re here, let¡¯s get to the main event.¡± The voice paused, as if for dramatic effect. ¡°What do you want in your next life?¡± Aizek didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°I want to laze around. I don¡¯t want to do anything.¡± Silence. Then, a burst of uncontrollable laughter erupted through the void, shaking the very fabric of whatever realm they were in. The deity¡¯s laughter was loud, unrestrained, as if Aizek had just told the funniest joke in the universe. ¡°You¡¯re something else, kid,¡± the voice wheezed, still laughing. ¡°Most people ask for power, a system, immortality¡­ hell, even a harem. And here you are, wishing for laziness. What a legend.¡± Aizek frowned¡ªor at least, he felt like he did. ¡°Wait¡­ you¡¯re just gonna grant my wish? Just like that?¡± Another chuckle, this time softer. ¡°Well¡­ let¡¯s just say I owe you one.¡± Aizek narrowed his thoughts. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± The voice hesitated for the first time. Then, almost sheepishly¡ª ¡°You see¡­ I was that Yuumi player.¡± Silence. Then¡ª ¡°¡­Excuse me?¡± The voice cleared its throat. ¡°Yeah, uh¡­ my bad. I was just trying out the game, you know? Didn¡¯t think I¡¯d¡­ uh¡­ kill you.¡± Aizek¡¯s rage reignited like an inferno. ¡°YOU MOTHERFU¡ª¡± Before he could finish, the void beneath him cracked, splitting open into a swirling vortex of light. A force yanked him downward, pulling him into the unknown. The last thing he heard was the deity¡¯s laughter, full of amusement and mischief. ¡°May you live another lazy life. But this time¡ªyou gotta earn it.¡± A pause. Then, almost as an afterthought¡ª ¡°GGEZ, kid.¡± And then, Aizek fell. ----- I was falling. Not just my body¡ªeverything. My entire existence felt like it was unraveling, spiraling into an endless abyss. There was no ground, no sky, no walls to grasp. Just pure, consuming descent. My consciousness stretched thin, pulled in every direction at once, like I was being rewritten on a level beyond human comprehension. I wanted to scream, to panic, but I had no mouth. No voice. No body. Just falling. Then¡ªsuddenly, it stopped. Like a rubber band snapping back into place, everything compressed. The infinite nothingness collapsed around me, shrinking until I was¡­ confined. I wasn¡¯t falling anymore. I was inside something. And then, for the first time since I died¡ªI could feel. A dull warmth surrounded me, gentle, safe. I could hear something. A rhythmic, muffled thump-thump¡­ thump-thump¡­ A steady pulse, soothing and familiar in a way I couldn¡¯t explain. And then¡ª "I can¡¯t wait to see our baby." My entire being froze. ¡®The fuck?¡¯ The voice was distant but clear. A woman¡¯s voice, soft, filled with warmth and excitement. But the moment I registered it, a wave of emotions crashed into me. Happiness. Excitement. Nervousness. Love. But none of it was mine. It was someone else¡¯s¡ªno, hers. My mind reeled, struggling to grasp what was happening. And then, realization slammed into me like a truck. ¡®Wait¡­¡¯ I tried to move, but there were no limbs to move. I tried to breathe, but there was no air to take in. ¡®I¡¯m¡­ inside someone?¡¯ The truth settled in, slow and horrifying. ¡®No way. No fucking way¡­¡¯ I reached out, not physically, but with my mind, trying to make sense of my surroundings. The warmth, the muffled sounds, the thump-thump of the heartbeat surrounding me¡­ Then, it clicked. ¡®Am I¡­ in a womb?¡¯ A newborn thought slithered into my mind like a nightmare I couldn¡¯t wake from. ¡®I¡¯m a baby. An unborn kid of someone?!¡¯ Another rush of emotions surged through me¡ªjoy, anticipation, a hint of anxiety. But it still wasn¡¯t mine. It was hers. The woman carrying me. My supposed mother. The realization hit like a sledgehammer. ¡®Oh, you have got to be shitting me¡­¡¯ And then. "Three more months, darling, and our little angel will be born." I felt my entire existence jolt at those words. ¡®Wait¡­ three more months?¡¯ Panic set in like a creeping disease, my thoughts spiraling out of control. ¡®That means I¡¯ve already been here for six months?! I¡¯ve been a damn fetus for half a year and didn¡¯t even realize it?!¡¯ The sheer absurdity of it all hit me like a truck. I wasn¡¯t just reincarnated. I was being reborn. From the absolute beginning. As a baby. Again. ¡®Oh, hell no¡ª¡¯ I tried to move, and to my surprise, I could. My tiny limbs stretched, my underdeveloped body instinctively responding to my frustration. A strange sense of existence finally settled in¡ªI wasn¡¯t just some floating consciousness anymore. I had a body, small and weak as it was. Then¡ª "Oh! I can feel it! Our angel is excited!" ¡®¡­Shit.¡¯ "Come on now, don¡¯t kick too hard." I froze. The realization that my supposed parents could feel my movements made me want to curl up¡ªif I wasn¡¯t already curled up inside this womb, that is. I just kicked. Like some clueless baby reacting to its parents'' voices. The horror was immeasurable. I wasn¡¯t some overpowered reincarnator starting life with a full-grown body. I wasn¡¯t waking up as a noble¡¯s heir with a cheat system. No, I was starting from scratch. As a literal. Freaking. Baby. ¡®Goddamn it¡­¡¯ There was nothing I could do now. No protests, no refusals. In three months, I would be born, completely helpless, unable to do anything but cry and shit myself. With a heavy, defeated sigh¡ªwell, thought¡ªI gave up. ¡®Fine. I¡¯ll wait.¡¯ Time to be born That little wiggle I did? Yeah, it exhausted me. A single stretch, a tiny movement, and suddenly, I felt like I had run a marathon. The weight of fatigue settled in, and before I could process anything else¡ªdarkness took me. And so, I slept. For days. Weeks. Months. I had nothing better to do anyway. But whenever I was awake, I listened. It was the only thing keeping me from going insane in this dark, watery prison. My supposed parents spoke often, their voices filtering through the walls of my mother¡¯s womb, muffled yet understandable. Names. I focused on the names first. My mother¡¯s name was Sheina. My father¡¯s name was Aizak. At least now I knew who was responsible for bringing me into this world. Then, I started piecing together the details of the world I was about to be born into. They often mentioned a place called Capital City of Draguan. ¡®A capital city? So I¡¯m definitely in a big country.¡¯ That wasn¡¯t too surprising. What was surprising was the next thing I heard. "The Kingdom of Dragon Spine." I swear, if I had a fully developed heart, it would¡¯ve skipped a beat. ¡®A kingdom? What the hell do you mean, kingdom?!¡¯ My mind went into overdrive. ¡®Wait. What year is it? What happened to democracy? Was there a rebellion? A shift in world powers? A global war?¡¯ The thoughts were endless, spiraling into every possibility. I needed more information. So, for the next three months, between the endless cycles of sleeping and waking, I did what I did best¡ªlisten. Three months passed. I could feel it. A strange, instinctive sense told me my time inside this dark, watery world was coming to an end. My body, still small and weak, had grown enough to be ready. Soon, I¡¯d be born. I wasn¡¯t sure how to feel about that. Excited? Anxious? Dreading the experience of being squeezed through a human-sized exit like a damn toothpaste tube? Whatever the case, I didn¡¯t have a choice. Throughout these months, I had gathered as much information as I could. I was not in my old world anymore¡ªthat much was clear. This was an entirely new world, one that operated on different rules, though some things remained oddly familiar. Time still worked the same¡ªsame hours, same days. But months? They had no names, just numbered cycles. It was strange, but I could live with it. What caught my attention the most was the continent¡¯s name¡ªRoan.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. This wasn¡¯t just some city or country. This was an entirely different continent, and from what I pieced together, it had four distinct seasons¡ªWinter, Spring, Summer, and Fall. And right now? It was Winter. A fitting time for my second birth, I suppose. Just a few more days. Then, like it or not, I¡¯d be born. ------- Winter¡¯s icy grip clung to the land outside, blanketing the world in pristine white. The wind howled through the narrow streets of the capital, slipping through cracks in stone walls and rattling the wooden shutters of homes. Yet inside one such house¡ªa sturdy two-story dwelling of brick and stone¡ªwarmth battled against the season¡¯s harsh embrace. The glow of a roaring fireplace filled the main bedroom, the golden light dancing across rough-hewn wooden beams that stretched across the ceiling. A thick, woven rug covered the stone floor, muffling hurried footsteps as a midwife moved about with practiced ease. The scent of burning wood mixed with the faint, metallic tang of sweat and labor, creating an atmosphere heavy with tension and anticipation. At the center of the room, Sheina, a woman in the midst of childbirth, lay upon a large bed draped with thick, sweat-dampened linens. Her auburn hair, usually brushed neatly over her shoulders, clung to her flushed, tear-streaked face. Her emerald green eyes, dulled by exhaustion yet sharp with determination, locked onto her husband¡¯s as she fought through another wave of pain. Aizak, a tall man with shoulder-length dark hair and sharp, aristocratic features, knelt beside her. His strong arms were wrapped around her trembling form, his face a mixture of helpless concern and unwavering support. His deep blue eyes, so often filled with quiet amusement, were now clouded with worry. His free hand smoothed damp strands of hair from Shein¡¯s forehead, while his other arm bore the full force of her grip. The room was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, hushed encouragements, and the crackling of firewood. The midwife, an older woman with a face lined by years of experience, stood at the foot of the bed, her hands poised to catch the new life about to enter the world. ¡°Just a little more, my lady,¡± she coaxed in a calm but firm tone. ¡°One final push.¡± Sheina clenched her jaw, her entire body trembling with exhaustion, but she refused to give in. With a deep breath, she summoned the last of her strength and pushed one final time¡ª A piercing cry split the air. For a moment, all else faded. The wind outside, the burning fire, the creaks of the old wooden floor¡ªall became insignificant against the powerful sound of new life. Sheina gasped, her entire body sagging with relief as she collapsed back onto the pillows. Tears welled in her eyes, though whether from exhaustion or overwhelming joy, she could not tell. Aizak exhaled sharply, a deep, relieved sigh escaping his lips as he loosened his grip on his wife¡¯s trembling hands. His gaze was locked onto the tiny, wriggling figure in the midwife¡¯s arms. His broad shoulders, usually squared with confidence, slumped slightly, the weight of his concern finally lifting. The midwife, her experienced hands cradling the newborn, let out a soft chuckle as she examined the squirming infant. The baby¡¯s small fists flailed, his tiny mouth open wide as he wailed, his cries raw and filled with life. With a warm smile, she turned to the weary yet eager parents. ¡°It¡¯s a boy,¡± she announced, her voice filled with quiet joy. ¡°A healthy baby boy.¡± She moved swiftly, wrapping the infant in a clean white sheet, his delicate form now swaddled securely. Then, with the gentleness of someone who had done this many times before, she lowered the newborn into Shein¡¯s waiting arms. The moment Sheina¡¯s trembling hands touched the child, a sob caught in her throat. She pulled him close, her warmth enveloping him. The baby¡¯s cries softened, his tiny body settling as he instinctively recognized the presence of his mother. Aizak, unable to look away, wrapped an arm around Shein¡¯s shoulders and leaned in. His heart pounded, but for the first time in hours, it was no longer out of fear. His gaze swept over the tiny life before him¡ª The baby¡¯s skin was soft and pink, his wisps of red hair barely visible in the dim firelight. His eyes, though still adjusting to the world, peeked open for the first time, revealing a faint reddish hue. Aizak let out a breathless chuckle, brushing a thumb against his son¡¯s small fingers, which instinctively curled around it. ¡°You did well, my love,¡± he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Shein¡¯s damp forehead. His voice was thick with emotion. ¡°You should name him.¡± Sheina, still catching her breath, gazed down at the tiny child nestled against her chest. Her emerald eyes shimmered, reflecting both the firelight and the depth of her emotions. She had never felt a love so fierce, so all-consuming. She inhaled deeply, feeling the warmth of her husband beside her, the weight of their child in her arms, the quiet crackling of the fire as it witnessed this sacred moment. Then, as if the name had always belonged to him, she whispered¡ª ¡°Aizek.¡± Aizel smiled, his expression softening with pride and tenderness. He pressed his forehead against hers, letting out a quiet, breathless laugh. ¡°Sheina,¡± he murmured, ¡°it¡¯s perfect.¡± Outside, the winter wind howled. But inside this small brick-and-stone home, there was only warmth. My time to be born This is it. The moment I¡¯ve been waiting for. For months, I¡¯ve been trapped inside this cramped, suffocating space, floating in a warm liquid prison with nothing to do but listen to the muffled voices of my so-called parents. Now, after what felt like an eternity, I can feel it¡ªI¡¯m finally getting out. The walls around me tighten like a vice, squeezing and pushing me downward. My whole body compresses under the pressure, every muscle in my tiny form straining against the unbearable force. Come on! Push harder! Let me out! I can feel my surroundings contracting again and again, forcing me closer to freedom. The pressure on my head is intense, like someone is shoving me through an impossibly tight tunnel. This has to be the most undignified way to enter the world. If I ever get to live lazily again, I swear I¡¯m filing a complaint with the gods. Then¡ªwith one final push¡ªit happens. Pop! I¡¯M FREE! And immediately, I regret everything. Cold. Fucking cold. The warmth of my former prison vanishes in an instant, replaced by an unforgiving blast of frigid air that crashes against my newborn skin like an icy tidal wave. My body shakes violently, every nerve screaming in protest as I feel the temperature difference for the first time. I open my mouth to curse, but instead¡ª "HAAAAA! WAAAAAH!!" What the hell?! That wail¡ªthat horrifying, ear-piercing sound¡ªwas me? My eyes are open. Oh, god. I¡¯m an actual baby now. Voices echo around me, muffled yet frantic, the sounds of footsteps rushing across the wooden floor. Somewhere close, a fire crackles, the flames casting flickering golden light against the rough stone walls of the room. The heat from the fireplace barely reaches me, and I continue shivering uncontrollably. Then¡ªrough hands lift me from the freezing air. Oi! Oi! Oi! Be careful, lady! The hands belong to an older woman, her face lined with wrinkles of experience, sharp eyes glinting with both professionalism and exhaustion. She¡¯s the midwife, I assume, her presence commanding respect despite the strain of a long night. Her strong, calloused hands move with practiced ease as she swiftly wraps me in soft white cloth, tucking me in like a neatly folded dumpling. Thank fuck. Warmth. I barely have time to enjoy the newfound comfort before I¡¯m turned toward two figures¡ªmy parents. The woman lying on the large wooden bed is breathless, strands of auburn hair clinging to her sweat-drenched face. Her emerald green eyes, though hazy with exhaustion, shine with something raw and powerful¡ªlove, relief, joy. She¡¯s beautiful, even in this state, her delicate features marred only by the sheer physical strain she just endured. Her lips tremble, her arms weakly reaching out as the midwife carefully places me into them. Then, my gaze drifts to the man beside her. My father. He stands tall and rigid, a presence that commands the room even in silence. His dark, shoulder-length hair is slightly disheveled, his strong jaw clenched as he watches me with a deep, thoughtful expression. His deep blue eyes flicker with an unreadable mix of emotions¡ªcuriosity, pride, and perhaps a sliver of doubt. He studies me intently, his gaze lingering longer than I¡¯m comfortable with. Oi, stop looking at me like I¡¯m some weird creature. I just got here, damn it. A soft sigh escapes him, and after a long pause, he turns to my mother. ¡°You should name him,¡± he says, his deep voice calm yet firm. My mother, still catching her breath, smiles weakly but lovingly. She pulls me closer to her chest, her warmth enveloping me fully. I can hear the steady thump of her heartbeat, a rhythmic sound that oddly soothes me.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Her emerald eyes lock onto mine. ¡°Aizek,¡± she whispers. ¡­ Well, who would¡¯ve thought? Guess I wasn¡¯t getting a cool new fantasy name after all. Still Aizek. Figures. --- As I continue processing my glorious rebirth, I take in as much as I can about my surroundings. The house we¡¯re in is solid and well-built, its walls made of aged bricks and stone, reinforced by thick wooden beams. The high ceiling gives the room an airy, spacious feel, despite the rustic furnishings. The fireplace, a massive stone structure with intricate carvings, dominates one side of the room, the only source of warmth in this bitter winter night. Wooden shelves line the walls, stacked with books, ceramic containers, and handmade trinkets¡ªevidence of a well-lived home. A large, rough-hewn wooden table sits in the center of the room, bearing signs of frequent use, its surface worn smooth over time. Near the windows, a sturdy rocking chair sways slightly, the creaking sound barely audible over the low murmurs of conversation. Outside the frosted windows, I can see hints of the world beyond¡ªthe dark outlines of snow-covered rooftops, the soft glow of lanterns from neighboring houses, and the occasional silhouette of people moving through the streets, bundled in heavy cloaks against the cold. This is no ordinary medieval house¡ªthis is a wealthy home, built with care and strength. And it looks like I¡¯ve been born into a good family. Right? To a good family? ¡­ Somewhere unknown. In a vast chamber adorned with intricate tapestries and towering bookshelves, the scent of old parchment and ink mingled with the faint aroma of smoldering firewood from the nearby hearth. Maps sprawled across the walls, detailing lands, kingdoms, and territories, each marked with notes of population, resources, and known threats. Candlelight flickered against the polished mahogany desk near a grand window, casting long shadows across the room. Seated at this desk was an aged man, Lord Kaz. His once-black hair was now streaked with wisps of silver, his sharp features accentuated by the spectacles perched on his nose. His stern, unwavering gaze scanned over the documents he was meticulously scribbling upon, his quill scratching softly against the parchment. The heavy wooden door creaked open. A man clad in dark attire entered briskly, bowing before speaking, his voice laced with formality. "My lord, the young miss Sheina has given birth. You now have a great-grandson." At this, Lord Kaz paused. His pen hovered in the air for a brief moment before he slowly lifted his head. His gaze met the messenger¡¯s, and for an instant, something flickered in his sharp eyes¡ªa mixture of surprise and silent joy, quickly veiled by his usual stoicism. He let out a deep breath, set his quill aside, and straightened in his chair. "Make preparations. Double the guards." His voice was calm but resolute, the weight of authority pressing down like an unmovable force. Then, with a flick of his hand, he pulled open a drawer and retrieved a bottle of aged liquor, its dark amber liquid gleaming in the dim light. As he poured the drink into two crystal glasses, he added, "And summon my daughter." The messenger swiftly bowed and exited, leaving behind a silence that was soon interrupted by a low, almost amused chuckle. "Come out." Lord Kaz¡¯s voice echoed through the chamber. "Your daughter just had a son. That makes you a grandfather now. And me? A great-grandfather. Damn it, time moves too fast." From the corner of the room, where the shadows pooled unnaturally, a figure materialized¡ªa man with pitch-black hair, its depths absorbing the candlelight like an abyss, and eyes that gleamed a fiery mix of gold and red. His build was neither bulky nor frail, but a lean, well-tempered frame honed for precision and lethality. The man¡ª**Kael¡ª**bowed deeply before speaking. "Congratulations, lord father, on having the first male heir in four centuries." At this, Lord Kaz grinned, his laughter filling the chamber. A sudden burst of invisible energy rippled through the air, pressing down like an unseen force, stirring the candle flames and causing the maps on the walls to tremble. He lifted his glass, gesturing for Kael to do the same. Without hesitation, Kael took the offered drink, the liquor burning down his throat as he gulped it. Lord Kaz exhaled in satisfaction. "Damn right. Do you know how long I¡¯ve waited for a male heir?" He paused, then waved a dismissive hand. "Forget that first order¡ªscrapped thar. Instead, you go yourself. Take a division, and a few retinues. Make sure Sheina and the boy are protected at all costs. Stay in the shadows; you know how perceptive that daughter of yours is. I don¡¯t need her nagging her mother and dragging us into that mess." Kael nodded, his expression unreadable. "Understood, Lord Kaz." Before he could take his leave, the door behind them swung open once more. A woman stepped in, her entrance filled with effortless grace. Long crimson hair cascaded down her back, her emerald eyes sharp and piercing. She had the build of a warrior¡ªslender yet undeniably strong, her movements controlled and refined. She stopped in her tracks upon seeing the two men drinking, her lips curling into a smirk laced with amusement and disapproval. "What is it, father? Did you summon me just to babysit you two while you drown yourselves in alcohol?" Lord Kaz let out another laugh, his hand tapping against the rim of his glass. "Sheina has given birth. To a baby boy." The teasing light in the woman¡¯s eyes instantly shifted into something deeper¡ªshock, then astonishment, then something unreadable. "My little girl... is a mother?" she whispered, more to herself than to them. But before she could even process the thought, she turned her sharp gaze to Kael. "Wait. You knew where Sheina was, and you didn''t tell me?" Kael met her glare without flinching. "I didn''t tell you because you¡¯d rush off, drag her back here, and cause unnecessary trouble. Refrain yourself this time." His voice was calm but firm. "Father has already ordered me to go to her. You don¡¯t need to worry." Luna¡¯s brows furrowed, displeasure evident in her stance. But before she could argue, Lord Kaz interjected. "That¡¯s right, Luna. Let Kael handle this." She clicked her tongue in irritation but ultimately relented. "Fine. But what about the man beside her? The child¡¯s father? Is he even worthy?" Kael glanced at Lord Kaz, who merely smirked before answering, "Quite useful. Good looks, good brain. He teaches at the Royal Academy of Draguan." He paused, his gaze sharpening, then turned to Kael. "Make the preparations. And hear me well¡ªtrample anyone who dares to lay a finger on them. Even if it¡¯s the royal family of Draguan. If they touch my sole heir..." His voice dropped into a low, lethal whisper, his next words laced with quiet fury. "Burn that place to the ground." A tense silence filled the room. Kael and Luna stiffened, exchanging brief but knowing glances before bowing in unison. "Understood." With that, they took their leave, the door closing behind them with a soft but resounding finality. Milk Sleep Poop Repeat Darkness. Warmth. Comfort. That was my world for the longest time. Floating in a peaceful abyss, drifting in and out of consciousness. Then, one day¡­ I was born. And another suffering began. The Harsh Reality of Infancy The first thing I learned about being a baby? It sucks. Literally though. Let¡¯s get one thing straight¡ªI never imagined my second life would start like this. Sucking on my mother¡¯s breast. Call me shameless, but I have no choice. I¡¯ll die if I don¡¯t. This body¡ªthis tiny, frail, newborn form¡ªdemands nourishment. I need milk. That¡¯s the only thing that will help me grow faster. So, as much as it pains my pride, I latch on and drink like my life depends on it. Because, well, it does. Honestly, I¡¯ve given up on being embarrassed. There¡¯s no point. Dignity won¡¯t keep me alive, but milk will. So, I suck, gulping down the warm, slightly sweet liquid, letting the familiar rhythm lull me into an almost meditative state. But drinking is only part of my new, highly prestigious daily routine. Well, what else can I do? I¡¯m a baby. So my life has been reduced to milk, sleep, poop, repeat. An endless, mind-numbing cycle of feeding, dozing off, and relieving myself like a useless sack of flesh. It¡¯s humiliating. I never thought my existence would be reduced to this, but here we are¡ªlatched onto my mother like a helpless parasite, gulping down milk to survive. Most of the day, I sleep. Not by choice, mind you. This body just shuts down whenever it wants. One second, I¡¯m awake, listening in on conversations, trying to piece together my new reality¡ªthe next, I¡¯m gone. Lights out. No warning. And then, of course, there¡¯s the other part of my day.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Pooping. No, I don¡¯t want to talk about it. Moving on. I can¡¯t move properly. My arms and legs are short and weak, wobbling uselessly whenever I try to stretch. My fingers curl instinctively, but I have no control over them. And my head? Heavy as hell. Just lifting it a little makes me feel like I¡¯m carrying a damn boulder. Everything is out of my control. I can¡¯t talk. I can¡¯t ask questions. I can¡¯t do anything. The worst part? My body is completely dependent on my mother. So far, my biggest achievement in this new life is eavesdropping on my parents. Since I can¡¯t move, speak, or do anything remotely useful, I just listen. And from what I¡¯ve gathered, my father, Aizak, is a professor at an academy here in the city. They call this place the Capital City of Draguan. It sounds important, which means I was either born into nobility, a scholarly family, or a middle-class household in a big, bustling city. I have no idea which yet. As for my father¡¯s job? He teaches geography. Maps, lands, natural formations, probably some history thrown in there too. So basically, he¡¯s a scholar, an intellectual, a man of books. A nerd, if I¡¯m being honest. Then there¡¯s my mother, Sheina. She¡¯s¡­ a soldier? A guard? A protector? I¡¯m not entirely sure yet. I¡¯ve heard the words duty, training, protection, and security a lot when she talks, so she¡¯s definitely in some kind of military or law enforcement. Which makes my parents¡­ an odd pair. A teacher and a soldier. A bookworm and a warrior. I don¡¯t know how those two ended up together, but if genetics mean anything, I might be in for an interesting ride. Since I can¡¯t do much besides eat, sleep, and listen, I¡¯ve been gathering information. And this world is insane. A few days ago, I overheard my father talking about a war between two kingdoms. Naturally, I thought it was over land, resources, or some political dispute. You know, the usual stuff. Nope. It was over a woman. Some king wanted to marry a noblewoman from another kingdom, but she rejected him. Instead of moving on like a sane person, the bastard declared war. A full-scale war because he got friend-zoned. I nearly choked on my mother¡¯s milk when I heard that. If I could¡¯ve spoken, I would¡¯ve screamed, "WHAT KIND OF SIMP KING NONSENSE IS THIS?!" Seriously, how fragile does your ego have to be to throw your entire country into war over a girl?! I can already picture him in my head¡ªsome arrogant prick sitting on a golden throne, grinding his teeth while his advisors try to reason with him. Advisor: "Your Majesty, please, let¡¯s reconsider! War will cost thousands of lives!" Simp King: "SILENCE! She broke my heart! Now BURN HER KINGDOM TO THE GROUND!" What an idiot. But that¡¯s not even the craziest thing I¡¯ve learned. Apparently, people in this world live a lot longer. A normal person can reach 200 years. If they¡¯re lucky, 300. At first, I thought, Damn, that¡¯s impressive. But then I heard some reasons. It''s either of lineage traits or they drink a potion made from blood. Blood. Of what, exactly? I have no idea. They didn¡¯t say, and I can¡¯t exactly ask. But one thing¡¯s for sure¡ªthis world is far more interesting than the one I came from. Magic, alchemy, maybe even immortality? This place is hiding secrets. And one day, I¡¯ll uncover them all. For now, though? I can get lazy as i want. Milk. Sleep. Poop. Repeat. Real Fantasy World Three years. That¡¯s how long it took for me to master my tiny, weak body. I can finally walk, talk, and think properly without having a head ache. Well, mostly. My balance still sucks, and sometimes my words don¡¯t come out as smoothly as I want them to, but at least I can communicate with my parents now. More importantly, I can ask questions. And with every answer I get, this world becomes more fascinating¡ªand more dangerous. Tell you what. The kingdom that declared war over a woman? Yeah, that mess has escalated into an all-out war. At first, I thought the story was just some royal idiot throwing a tantrum, but the situation is deeper than that. The woman in question isn¡¯t just a noble lady¡ªshe¡¯s the third princess of the Cilla Kingdom. The fool who started this war? A prince from the neighboring Melta Kingdom. Here¡¯s the real catch. The princess was already engaged to someone else¡ªa prince from Draguan, the very kingdom we live in. That changed everything. Rumors are spreading that Melta never really wanted the princess. That this war was just an excuse to invade Cilla and expand their territory. Whether that¡¯s true or not, one thing is certain¡ªone of those kingdoms will fall soon. And my parents are watching closely. It¡¯s a habit of theirs to keep track of every political movement in every kingdom they know. They discuss strategies, speculate outcomes, and analyze power struggles like it¡¯s a chess game. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s because of my father¡¯s scholarly mind or my mother¡¯s military instincts, but they always seem one step ahead of the news. I should learn from them. The Outside World is more amazing than i thought. Even though I can talk now, I still can¡¯t leave the house alone. My parents are extremely protective, and I get it. I¡¯m still small, weak, and easy to snatch. But that doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t get to see the city. From time to time, my mother takes me to the central market to buy groceries. And that place is incredible. Stone streets lined with colorful stalls, merchants shouting their prices, the scent of fresh bread, roasted meat, and exotic spices filling the air. Every visit is a feast for my senses. This world really is a medieval one. But the most jaw-dropping thing I¡¯ve seen? Monsters. The other day, as we walked past a butcher¡¯s stall, I saw a severed beast head displayed like a trophy. It looked like a cow¡¯s head, but its massive horns twisted like a demon¡¯s, and its face was grotesque and fierce. It was a monster, no doubt about it. That¡¯s when I remembered something I had overheard before¡ªthis world has a way to gain power.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Monstrous Blood and Power Here¡¯s what I know so far: People in this world live longer than normal¡ªup to 300 years if they¡¯re lucky. There¡¯s a special kind of potion made from monster blood. Drinking that potion grants physical and magical power. But I still don¡¯t know the exact process. How does it work? What kind of monsters are used? Are there side effects? And most importantly¡­ have my parents taken those potions? They¡¯ve never said anything about it, and I haven¡¯t noticed them using any superhuman strength or magic. But knowing them, they wouldn¡¯t just talk about it casually. I need more information. One thing¡¯s for sure¡ªthis world is far more dangerous and exciting than I ever imagined. And if I want to survive here¡­ I¡¯ll need power too, being a NEET in my previous life i have dream of slaying monster myself personally. ------ For a three-year-old, I¡¯m not normal. Most toddlers my age would be busy running around, playing with wooden swords, or throwing tantrums. Me? I¡¯m buried under a mountain of books, reading like my life depends on it. And honestly? It probably does, this world has monsters and magic shits or whatever. My parents don¡¯t question it. My father, being a professor, is delighted that I take an interest in books. My mother, though? She just watches me with a mix of amusement and suspicion. Sometimes, I catch her staring at me, her sharp green eyes narrowed as if she¡¯s trying to read my soul. It¡¯s unnerving. But I ignore it. I need to learn. And what I¡¯ve discovered so far? This world is far bigger, stranger, and more dangerous than I ever imagined. --- The Continent of Roan ¨C A Giant Watermelon? From the geography books I¡¯ve read, this world doesn¡¯t have separate continents like Earth. Instead, it¡¯s a massive Pangea-like landmass. One huge continent stretching endlessly in all directions. The shape? A giant fused watermelon. I had to reread that part multiple times because I thought my brain was broken. But the books all agree¡ªthe landmass is shaped like several oval chunks smashed together. And right near the center of the northern hemisphere? A massive, quarter-moon-shaped lake. This isn¡¯t just some ordinary body of water. According to legends, it¡¯s called the Silver Crescent Lake. It¡¯s so large that it could swallow entire kingdoms if it ever overflowed. But what really caught my attention? No one knows how deep it goes. Every book I¡¯ve found avoids talking about its depths. Some claim it¡¯s bottomless. Others say there¡¯s something lurking beneath it, something ancient and powerful. And for some reason, every kingdom near that lake builds their capitals around it. Coincidence? I don¡¯t think so. --- This single continent isn¡¯t united. Far from it. Roan is divided into several powerful kingdoms, each constantly on edge, ready to wage war at any moment. Some are massive empires that control vast lands, while others are small but hold immense influence. The big players notable right now are: Kingdom of Draguan (My home) ¨C Known for its elite warriors and military strength. Kingdom of Cilla ¨C A rich and prosperous nation currently at war with Melta. Kingdom of Melta ¨C The aggressive neighbor, expanding its borders through war. The Grand Duchy of Dale ¨C A mysterious land ruled by a powerful duke, not a king. The Holy Empire of Kessaria ¨C A theocratic empire rumored to be ruled by a living saint. The southern land of Wastes ¨C A frozen, lawless land filled with monsters and nomadic tribes. These are just the major ones. There are countless minor territories, city-states, and nomadic clans scattered all over the continent. And the more I read, the more I realize¡ªwar is always looming. Every kingdom wants more land, more resources, more power greedy fucker. It¡¯s a fragile balance, one that could shatter at any moment. And I have a feeling that when it does, I¡¯ll be running out of it, fuck war i reincarnated to get lazy not to be a soldier. --- The part that excites me the most? Magic is real as fuck hell yeah this is what I''m talking about. Not just magic¡ªmonsters, enchanted artifacts, ancient ruins, forgotten spells and shits. This world is a living, breathing fantasy realm. People can gain strength through a special potion made from monster blood. But the process is still unclear to me. Some books say it¡¯s safe, others claim it¡¯s a gamble¡ªyou either gain power or your body rejects it and you die like a rat. And the strongest warriors? They don¡¯t just use magic. They become magic. There are some stories of men turning into living storms, warriors who can cut through mountains, mages who summon fire that burns for days. It¡¯s insane. It¡¯s terrifying. I close the book in my lap and stare at the ceiling. My tiny hands still feel weak, my small body fragile. But my mind? It¡¯s racing. I need more information. Books are good, but I need real-world knowledge. I need to talk to people, hear their experiences, see magic firsthand. But first, I need to convince my parents to let me out of this house. And that? Might be harder than learning magic itself. Potatoes Reading books surely is beneficial. Draguan¡ªthe beating heart of the Dragon Spine Kingdom¡ªstood as a testament to both power and civilization, a city of stone and steel that had withstood the test of time. With nearly six hundred thousand residents, the streets thrummed with constant activity, filled with merchants calling out their wares, soldiers patrolling in gleaming armor, and scholars discussing politics and philosophy in shaded courtyards. Nestled in the far west of the vast Roan Continent, Draguan shared its borders with the Cilla Kingdom to the northeast and the war-hungry Melta Kingdom to the southwest. The kingdom itself was divided into four major provinces, each ruled by a duke, while three lesser cities remained under the command of powerful marquises. The remaining lands¡ªsmall towns and sprawling villages¡ªwere governed by lower-ranking aristocrats, who ensured the gears of the kingdom continued to turn. The air within the city carried a blend of fragrances, both pleasant and pungent. The sweet aroma of freshly baked bread drifted from street-side bakeries, mingling with the sizzling scent of seasoned meats roasting over open flames at market stalls. Yet, beneath those enticing smells lurked the undeniable stench of unwashed bodies, manure, and the faint metallic tang of blood from butchers'' shops. The streets themselves were paved with large, uneven cobblestones worn smooth by the endless trampling of boots, hooves, and carriage wheels. Towering buildings of various architectural styles lined the roads¡ªsturdy stone manors housing nobles, wooden workshops belonging to skilled artisans, and towering spires where mages studied their arcane arts. Vibrant banners fluttered high above, bearing the crimson dragon emblem of the kingdom, a silent declaration of Draguan¡¯s might. The population was just as diverse as the structures they inhabited. Humans in flowing noble robes strutted about, their posture exuding the arrogance of wealth, while commoners in simple tunics and worn-out boots rushed through their daily routines. Elves, with their impossibly smooth skin and pointed ears, moved with effortless grace, their expressions often unreadable. Some had long, braided hair adorned with beads, while others had simple ponytails tied with thin leather cords. They barely made a sound when they walked, as if they floated rather than stepped. Dwarves, on the other hand, were a stark contrast¡ªshort but stout, their thick beards meticulously groomed and braided with golden rings. Even the women sported facial hair, though more modest in length. Their deep, rumbling voices carried over the noise of the crowd, often accompanied by laughter or the occasional drunken song. Then there were the beastkin¡ªhalf-human, half-animal beings with sharp features, fur-covered ears, and tails swishing behind them. They varied in appearance depending on their ancestral lineage. Some had wolf ears, their sharp yellow eyes darting around warily, while others had feline-like features, moving with a predator¡¯s lazy confidence. A few had broad, muscular frames, their lineage tied to bears or tigers, while others were lean and agile, resembling foxes or rabbits. I had seen my fair share of them, especially in my own neighborhood. The elf woman next door carried herself like a queen, her long silver hair cascading like a waterfall down her back. She barely spoke, but when she did, her voice was like the soft chime of a bell¡ªlow yet melodious. Then there was the beastkin girl from two houses down. She had wolf ears that twitched at every sound, a thick tail that swayed behind her, and an ever-present grin that showed off her sharp teeth. Her amber eyes always had a mischievous glint, and I often caught her staring at me as if I were something amusing. Damn, they looked fine. I couldn''t wait to turn five. Father had promised to take me to the academy for a stroll. The Royal Academy of Draguan¡ªan institution revered across the continent¡ªstood as the foundation of the kingdom¡¯s strength. It was where the future rulers, scholars, and warriors of the land were molded. Children weren¡¯t allowed to attend until they turned ten, and once they entered, they would be stuck there for a decade. Ten years of rigorous education. They called it an all-in-one academy because it prepared students for nearly every path in life. Whether one sought to become a potion maker, a blacksmith, a merchant, a civil servant, a doctor, a builder, or a proper soldier, the academy had training for it. A massive fortress of learning, it had towering libraries filled with ancient tomes, sprawling training grounds where students sparred under the watchful eyes of battle-hardened instructors, and alchemy labs filled with the scent of burning herbs and bubbling concoctions.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. And my father was a professor there. That place must be damn impressive. --- Nestled securely in my mother¡¯s arms, I watched the world unfold before me with the wide-eyed curiosity of a child¡ªwell, a child who still remembered his past life. The market was a living, breathing entity, pulsing with the energy of hundreds of people moving at once, their voices clashing like an endless tide against the stone walls of the surrounding buildings. The air was thick with an overwhelming mixture of scents, some pleasant, others absolutely rancid. The warm, comforting aroma of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the earthy scent of fresh produce. But just as I started enjoying it, a sharp, metallic tang of blood cut through, mixed with something musky and sour that I quickly realized was rotting flesh. I wrinkled my nose. The stench of death clung to the air like an invisible fog, making me glad that I wasn¡¯t the one walking. Stalls stretched along the narrow streets in every direction, their colorful awnings providing shade for the merchants as they shouted over each other, trying to attract customers. "Fresh meat! Straight from the wilds! Only the highest quality monster parts!" "Elixirs and potions! Keep your skin youthful, your body strong!" "Weapons! Armor! Protect yourself before stepping outside the walls!" As my mother carried me deeper into the chaos, my eyes landed on one of the more grotesque sights I had ever seen. A butcher''s stand stood prominently among the shops, a massive wooden counter displaying a horrifying assortment of freshly carved monster parts. A headless, scaly beast, still dripping with thick, dark blood, hung from a rusted hook, swinging slightly whenever a passing breeze disturbed it. Severed limbs were piled high in wooden crates¡ªsome resembling those of animals I vaguely recognized, others completely alien with unnatural joints, oversized claws, and disturbingly human-like hands. A burly man behind the counter, his apron soaked in crimson, worked tirelessly as he carved through bone and sinew with a cleaver the size of my head. Each chop sent bits of flesh flying, some landing dangerously close to the edge of his stall. The sound of his blade slicing through meat was sickeningly wet, followed by the occasional crunch of bone snapping. The butcher, grinning with a mouthful of gold teeth, caught my gaze and waved the cleaver in the air. "Startin'' him young, huh?" he said with a chuckle, looking at my mother. "This one''s got the eyes of a warrior. Maybe in a few years, he''ll be coming back to buy his own kills!" Yeah. Not happening. I turned away, and my eyes found something far less stomach-turning. Weapons. Rows upon rows of swords, axes, spears, and daggers gleamed under the sun, polished to perfection. Some had intricate engravings, while others were forged with more practical designs, meant for durability over aesthetics. Blacksmiths worked tirelessly behind the displays, their muscular arms swinging hammers down onto molten-hot steel. The rhythmic clang of metal striking metal echoed through the air, sending vibrations through my bones. Sparks flew with each strike, illuminating the soot-covered faces of the workers as they shaped their creations. A part of me wished I could hold one, to feel the weight of a blade in my hands. But alas, I was still a baby. No epic sword fights for me yet. Beyond the weapon stalls, there were armor shops displaying full sets of plate mail, chainmail, and leather gear. Some of the armor stood on mannequins, looking like lifeless warriors ready to march into battle. The further we walked, the more varied the market became. There were potion stands, where bubbling cauldrons released colorful plumes of smoke into the air, filling the area with the scent of herbs and something vaguely reminiscent of sulfur. Strange liquids in glass bottles shimmered under the light, some glowing faintly as if alive. "Miracle elixirs! Restore your stamina, heal your wounds, and enhance your strength!" one alchemist shouted. "Guaranteed results, or your money back!" another chimed in. Considering the questionable color of some of those potions, I had my doubts. Then, just as I was about to give up on seeing anything remotely normal, I spotted it. A simple wooden crate filled with dirty, misshapen potatoes. Among all the bizarre, terrifying, and magical things in this world, the most normal food I had seen so far was a potato. A single, humble potato. I stared at it, my mind momentarily blank. Of all the things to remind me of my old world, it had to be this. Memories of golden, crispy fries flashed through my head. The crunch of perfectly salted potato sticks, the soft fluffiness inside, the way they paired so well with¡ªno, I couldn¡¯t think about it. It was too painful. I let out a deep, soul-crushing sigh. At least there were other vegetables and fruits that looked familiar. Apples, oranges, carrots¡ªthings that still had the same shapes and colors I remembered. But even those small reminders felt like a cruel joke. They looked the same, but the taste? I had no idea. Would an apple still taste like an apple? Or would it have some weird magical property that made it taste like raw meat or something equally horrifying? I didn¡¯t know, and honestly, I wasn¡¯t in a hurry to find out. As my mother carried me through the bustling streets, I took in everything¡ªthe sights, the sounds, the smells. This world was strange, dangerous, and nothing like my old one. But at least I had potatoes.