France.
Northern France, to be more specific— somewhere quiet, green, and annoyingly picturesque, like God accidentally dropped a postcard and decided to leave it there.
The town I now live in is small enough that the local boulangerie knows everyone's name, and the biggest event of the year is the farmer's market in June. The air always smells like bread and judgment, depending on how badly you butcher your French.
Which currently I'm at house which
>>Age: 4 years old.
Current Status: being crushed to death by my mother's love.
"My little Angel." she cooed, squeezing me so hard I felt my spine trying to negotiate a deal with gravity.
Reality: "I will compress your ribcage into atoms."
God please someone to help me,i know my mother love's me but she's going to accidentally kill her son
Which soon God answered my prayers
"Honey, you're going to crush Michael if you keep hugging him like that" my dad warned halfheartedly.
Which mom meanwhile Soon slowly turned her head to him slowly by 45°, which while smiling like a saint — the kind that probably set fire to heretics or any devils facing her.
Which my father instantly backed down by then looking at his newspaper and then commenting " Well good point honey"
> Dad…
You traitor.
I thought you were the Chosen One.
Meanwhile back to me, which I — a grown man trapped in a four-year-old's body — was trying to escape her iron grip like a sad little worm. I even wriggled. Didn't work.
>>> Status: Failed escape. Try again in 24 hours.
[Mission Failed We're going to get them next time]
Eventually, she relented and just kissed the top of my head, humming something soft in Italian. She always did that when she was happy — a habit from her childhood in Florence, I think. Her maiden name? Bellandi. Middle name she gave me: Raffaello, after her grandfather, a theologian.
So yes — full name:
Michael Raffaello de Montfort.
Quarter British, Quarter French, half Italian,full confused. And a mix of relief after nearly dying
---
In case you're wondering, kids in France start école maternelle (preschool/kindergarten) around the age of 3, and école élémentaire (elementary school) by age 6. Right now, I'm technically enrolled in a fancy little Catholic preschool that smells like Incense (which it's some kind of wood type that they cut and make it small which they smell nice when burned),the sound of church bells,and the sound of kids accidentally dropping their rosaries.
But more on that later.
For now, I spend most of my time pretending to be a precocious little boy who loves his juice box, building blocks, and accidentally quoting Aquinas during story time.
My teachers are… concerned.
One of them once asked my parents if I was "spiritually gifted."
If only she knew.
Because something is in me.
Something that hums when I touch a crucifix.
Something that whispers when I pray.
Something old, golden, and waiting.
---
> "Maman, c'est l'heure du goûter?" I ask sweetly.
> ("Mommy, is it snack time?")
She smiles, wiping her hands on her apron. "Oui, mon chéri. Come, I made your favorite."
I smile back, playing the role.
But deep down, something inside me is stirring.
And soon…
I think I'm going to find out exactly what God decided to leave inside me.
And I hope I'm ready.
---
France is… decent.
I mean, as far as second lives go, it could've been worse since considering I'm living in a modern world which i probably won't survive without technology of the 21st century which it looks like a normal world (i think). Which I could've also reincarnated in the middle of a warzone or a British boarding school.(I mean that's a low comparison since i could have been reincarnated into the WH 40K Universe,The SCP Universe,Fate Universe,and etc)
[A/N : What Universe you guys would love to live at,and what Universe you wouldn't never want to be ?]
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Here, at least, I get to enjoy a functioning society — complete with some of the greatest bread and pastry, a local park that doesn't have crackheads, and most importantly:
> Healthcare.
Dear God, the healthcare.The amount that is billed for a bandage alone would even made the devil who is greedy
You don't realize how precious it is until you've lived in a country where calling an ambulance is considered a sign of wealth. In America, dialing 911 might as well be equivalent to flexing a new Tesla.
> "What? You called an ambulance? Must be nice, rich boy."
I should know — I studied in the U.S. once.
Physics and chemistry and Biology. Full scholarship thankfully so no student debt for me compared to my American friends since Jeez Lewis,when i first learn that i question whether i was in the land of free or the land of being hit by a 150.000 medical bill for a check up.
But the US has Great education (depends on the college and teachers though), terrible Cost of living,and decent food even if it will give you diabetes, cholesterol,and etc, which luckily i spent most of the time cooking.
Luckily, I made it out alive (without a single injury or being sick by the way or falling into debt) and landed a job in Europe.
Which currently in my second life made a few friends — though that's nothing special, really. I make friends easily… even now considering I'm a 4 year old.
Which Take Jeanne one of my newest friends, for example.
Pig twin tail style blonde hair, blue eyes,five years old. A little ball of sugar-fueled chaos. Her parents definitely named her after Jeanne d'Arc — you know, that saint. Sword, voices from heaven, burned at the stake for heresy and then made a saint anyway. Typical Catholic timeline.
> Which didn't Jeanne d'Arc carried a flag during a battle,I think? I might be wrong.
My memory of history is a bit fuzzy and is loading after reincarnation trauma.
Still, Jeanne is sweet. Kind. Smiles easily. She once gave me her pudding cup during snack time — which, in preschool terms, basically means we're married now.
---
So what's my opinion of School in France?
Honestly? It's… pretty good.
Education here is mostly free. Thank you, secular socialism. Sure, there are flaws like anywhere else, but at least I'm not drowning in debt just for learning algebra. It's structured, well-funded, and most teachers don't seem dead inside. That's a win.
But the real shock?
> The Church.
More specifically… how young you can become a nun or a priest here.
In my world, you needed to be at least in high school. Finish confirmation, go through years of formation, seminary, etc. Basically, it's like applying to be a divine civil servant.
But here?
I met a nun who was somewhat older than my age i don't know— like, 7. Legit.
Some of them seem to be adopted by the Church early and raised into their vocations.
Which… I'm not gonna lie, makes me a little uncomfortable considering in my old world the amount of predators the church had,and i can't imagine the numbers here alone.But hey — new world, new rules. Even though it's questionable as hell and I'm debating whether or not the Church has violated multiple United Nation Human rights law
One of the older nuns though…
That's a different story.
Her name is Sister Griselda.
Early 20s, short blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a face and has a great figure and is tall. She's calm, kind, and gentle with the kids.
> And if I'm being honest — painfully honest — she's dangerously beautiful.
Like "cause a schism in the Vatican" levels of beautiful.
I am not a degenerate. I swear. I took vows of chastity… okay, I didn't. But I was a decent man in my past life i swear.(Meanwhile Me mentally profusely sweating)
So why — why — is my brain trying to create a mental slideshow every time she adjusts her veil or gives me a gentle smile?
> "Stop it, Michael. Clean your brain. Don't be a pervert."
"You are four. FOUR. You are built like a potato with limbs."
But if she existed in my old world?
Let's just say more than a few priests would be "reassigned" after catching feelings.
And considering the kind of priest that existed that crawled through the Church back home, that's saying something.
Still, Griselda is kind. She's not fake about her faith, either. You can feel it when she sings hymns — that warmth, that grace. It's rare. Real.
---
So here I am.
Reincarnated into a four-year-old French boy with a weirdly functional family, access to free education, universal healthcare, and existential confusion. I have a friend. I have a routine. I have questions.
And if I'm being honest?
> I have no damn idea what God is planning.
But I get the feeling I'll find out soon.