I don't know how long it's been since I woke up here.
Time blurs when you're constantly slipping in and out of consciousness. Each time I come to, I get maybe a minute—two at most—before darkness drags me back under. But those fleeting moments are enough to form a picture of where I am.
And let me tell you: it's either the womb of my soon-to-be mother… or the stomach of some eldritch horror. I sincerely hope it's the former.
Oddly enough, it's not terrible. After the initial panic—panic that involved realizing I couldn't move properly, breathe normally, or even see anything—I started to adjust. There's a strange peace to it. Warmth, a steady heartbeat pulsing like a lullaby, and a rhythmic swaying that I've come to find comforting. Sure, it's cramped, but it's not unbearable.
Lately, though, it's been getting tighter. I'm pressed in on all sides now. I think my eviction notice is coming.
Then, without warning, the heartbeat that's been my lullaby begins to race.
Faster. Urgent.
Muffled voices stir around me—distorted by flesh and fluid, but laced with unmistakable tension. Something is happening.
A squeezing sensation takes over. My world shudders and convulses as if I'm being pulled through a tunnel. I can't breathe. I can't see. I can't think. And then—Light.
Blinding, sterile white light floods into my vision, and I flinch. My newborn eyes can't handle the sudden overload. I feel air on my skin for the first time, followed by rough but careful hands lifting me up.
A voice—male—says something I can't fully comprehend, but I recognize the language immediately: Japanese.
So… this really is Japan. If I had any doubts, they're gone now.
But right after that exhaustion crashes over me like a tidal wave. My body is too small, too weak to hold on to consciousness much longer. Just before I pass out, I see her—reaching toward me with trembling hands and eyes filled with something I haven't seen in a long time.
Love.
My new mother.
And then everything fades again.
POV Shift — 3rd Person
It was a quiet night in Tokyo, though "quiet" was always a relative term in a world filled with superpowered beings.
People hurried home under streetlights, students chatted after cram school, and heroes patrolled rooftops, ever-watchful for the next villain attack. Life in a city like this was never truly calm, but in one small corner of it—a private wing of a luxurious hospital—something far more important than heroics or crime was happening.
Evelyn Darkheart was giving birth.
She was a woman who drew attention wherever she went. Long, obsidian-black hair spilled over her hospital pillow, and crimson eyes—sharp and usually unreadable—now shimmered with exhaustion. Her skin, pale as ivory, was damp with sweat as she gritted her teeth through the final contractions.
Her beauty was undeniable, but right now, beauty didn't matter. Only the child she was bringing into the world.
After long hours of labor, a single, piercing cry filled the room.
"It's a boy!" the doctor announced, holding the newborn high with practiced hands. His voice was steady but carried a note of reverence.
Evelyn didn't answer right away. Her body trembled, and her eyes fluttered, heavy with sleep. But when they placed the bundled child into her arms, something shifted. Her expression softened. A faint smile—barely visible—touched her lips.
"Have you already chosen a name, Lady Darkheart?" the doctor asked gently.
She looked down at her son—so small, so warm—and whispered, "Yes. His name is Elijah... Elijah Darkheart."
Then, as if the name itself was a lullaby, her eyes closed, and she drifted into sleep.
POV Shift — Elijah
It's been seven days since I was born, and while I still can't make sense of the words people speak, I've figured out a few important things.
First: my mother is filthy rich.
Not "comfortable." Not "upper-class." I'm talking mansion, private staff, and gold-trimmed furniture rich.
For the first five days, we stayed in what I can only describe as a presidential suite in a high-end hospital. After that, she brought me home.
Calling it a mansion doesn't even do it justice. It's more like a castle disguised as a tech-forward estate. The architecture blends old-world nobility with futuristic elegance—stone arches and smart glass, gothic towers and voice-activated climate control. The gardens are so massive they might have their own zip code. There's a koi pond. A hedge maze. I wouldn't be surprised if there was a wine cellar with a secret dungeon.
And the staff? Dozens of maids and butlers moving around in tailored uniforms, always silent, always efficient. It's like something out of a fantasy anime.
And then there's Evelyn.
Evelyn Darkheart.
She's what people might call a cold beauty—stunning, reserved, rarely smiling. But despite her frosty exterior, she's never once left me alone. I'm constantly in her arms or within reach. Even when she sleeps, I'm in a crib beside her bed, watched over by both her and the staff.
She hasn't spoken much, but the way she looks at me says enough. There's a tenderness in her gaze that I never had in my old life.
...Which brings me to the other big realization.
There's no father.
At least, not one who's shown up.
There are photos of a man—dark hair, sharp features—but I haven't seen him. No visits. No mentions. No scent of cologne lingering in the hallways. Just… absence.
And weirdly, I'm okay with that.
I didn't exactly have the best track record with fathers in my previous life. If anything, the silence feels familiar—but this time, it doesn't hurt.
I know I have to be careful. It's easy to let old pain creep into new beginnings. I can't afford to let my past dictate who I become. These people haven't wronged me. They don't deserve to be haunted by ghosts they didn't create.
Evelyn's already shown me more warmth in one week than my biological mother ever did in a lifetime.
Maybe… just maybe… I'll be loved in this life.