CHAPTER 1
A CRY THAT SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN MINE
Consciousness did not arrive like a gentle dawn, but like a tidal wave crashing against rocks—hard, sudden, and merciless. There was no smooth transition from nothingness to existence. Only an explosion of sensation that forced a wounded soul to become aware of itself once more.
And first to come was pain.
Kyoichiiro: "Aaaaargh—!!"
The scream exploded from tiny lungs breathing air for the very first time. The voice was high-pitched, shrill, filled with the pressure of terror, exhaustion, and profound confusion. It was the scream of a life forced into being, a first cry that should not have been his.
Kyoichiiro—or more accurately, the soul that still remembered itself as Kyoichiiro—jolted violently.
This voice… he thought, his consciousness reeling. It's not Celia's. It's not my sister's cry of fear. This… is a birth cry?
His surroundings were dark and cramped, yet foreign sounds flooded his new ears. The language was different—not the Japanese of his previous life, nor the language from the world where he had been hunted. Yet, strangely, he understood every word as if he had always known them. A comprehension forcibly implanted into his awareness.
I… understand this language? How?
Midwife #1: (tense voice) "Push again, My Lady! Just a little more! The head is visible!"
Midwife #2: (panicked voice) "Her breathing is weakening! Don't let her faint!"
Another Woman's Voice: "Quickly! Hold her hand! Give her strength!"
A deep, torturous heat spread through his entire being, then—a tremendous pressure, and suddenly he was free.
Then, crying.
His own crying. Loud, short, and fragile, yet containing an undeniable force of life. It was enough to instantly change the atmosphere in the room.
Midwife #1: (relieved voice) "He's crying! Listen! He's crying!"
Midwife #2: (nearly in tears) "Praise the Gods! The baby is alive!"
Maid's Voice: (shouting joyfully) "The Young Master is safe! He is safe!"
Kyoichiiro's consciousness vibrated violently upon hearing that shout.
Young… Master? he thought, his confusion growing. What do they mean?
He tried to move his hand—but all he felt was a small, clumsy, uncontrolled movement. His arms and legs felt weak, short. When he tried to speak, to form words of protest, all that emerged from his tiny mouth was:
Kyoichiiro: "Waaaa—!!"
More crying. The cry of a baby he could not control.
So… this is the price of a second life, he thought bitterly. Memories of the special bullet, of his own blood used to kill him, of the emptiness as his heart was pierced, all returned with clarity.
Celia… he thought, his heart feeling tight. My sister… please tell me you're safe. Please…
His heavy eyelids opened slowly. Light stabbed into his sensitive eyes. The world appeared blurry, obscured by tears and birth fluids. Yet, slowly, silhouettes began to form.
A high ceiling with a magnificent crystal chandelier. Sturdy stone walls adorned with expensive tapestries and paintings. And many people—women in simple yet neat clothing, gathered with faces full of relief, fear, and awe.
Servants… Kyoichiiro analyzed his surroundings. And architecture like a palace or a noble manor. So… I've been reborn into a powerful family.
Maid #1: (whispering with a trembling voice) "He… he opened his eyes. Look… the Young Master's eyes…"
Maid #2: (covering her mouth, tears falling) "Beautiful… like ice crystal and a spring sky…"
The first maid hurried off, her voice full of urgency.
Maid #1: "Quickly! Call the Lord! Inform him his heir has been born safely!"
Footsteps ran out of the room. Not long after, the large door to the chamber was thrown open emphatically.
A man entered. His posture was tall and sturdy, with broad shoulders and an air of authority. He wore simple yet expensive-looking garments, with a deep blue cloak draped over them. His hair was a deep blue like the ocean, tied neatly behind him. His face was handsome yet hard, with lines of resolve around his eyes and mouth. His gaze was sharp—the gaze of a leader, a commander, someone accustomed to commanding and making weighty decisions.
Yet, when that man's eyes—a deep blue like his hair—met the light blue eyes of the newborn baby, something in his face crumbled. The rigidity melted away, replaced by a deep and unexpected vulnerability.
Father: (low, trembling voice) "...My son."
He approached slowly, as if afraid his footsteps would disturb the miracle occurring. His eyes never left the baby.
Father: (to the midwife, firm yet gentle voice) "Hand him to me."
As the tiny, fragile body was transferred into his strong arms, the man took a deep breath—as if only now allowing himself to truly breathe after hours of holding back anxiety.
Father: (whispering, only for himself and the baby) "You're alive… You're truly alive…"
He bowed his head, gazing intently at Kyoichiiro's face. His eyes shone with pride and a deep sense of recognition.
Father: (to those in the room) "Look at him… His gaze… Calm. Clear. Not like the vacant stare of a newborn."
The maids nodded, whispering respectfully.
Maid #2: "It's true, My Lord… As if he's observing us… Understanding…"
Kyoichiiro stared back at the man who claimed to be his father. In his heart, a bitter thought arose.
If you only knew who the soul inside this baby's body truly is… I am not a blessing. Not a boon. I am the remnant of someone killed by the world. Someone who failed to protect his loved ones.
Yet, the man smiled. A sincere, warm smile, brimming with irrepressible pride.
Father: "Welcome to the world, my son. To the Khaneo family."
From the large bed in the center of the room came a weak but longing voice.
Mother: "...May I… hold him?"
The man immediately turned, his face showing concern again.
Father: "You haven't recovered, my dear. Your strength—"
Mother: (cutting in softly but firmly) "I know. But… I must hold him. Now."
The husband hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Carefully, he handed the baby over to the embrace of the woman on the bed.
The woman—his mother—was an enchanting figure. Her face was pale from the exhaustion of childbirth, yet her beauty was undeniable. Her long hair, a bluish-white exactly like Kyoichiiro's, spilled over the pillow. Her eyes were light blue, exactly like the baby's in her arms. She was very young, perhaps just in her early twenties.
She hugged Kyoichiiro carefully, yet tightly. The embrace was full of a fear of loss, gratitude, and a love so immense it felt physical to Kyoichiiro's sensitive soul.
Mother: (whispering, tears streaming down her cheeks) "Forgive your mother… for bringing you into this world with pain…"
She closed her eyes, pressing her damp cheek against the baby's forehead.
Mother: "I promise… I will love you. Whoever you become. Wherever your path takes you. Whatever this world does to you… I will always be by your side."
Kyoichiiro lay still in her embrace. His chest felt strange… warm, tight, with emotions that were alien and dangerous. This feeling—the feeling of being loved unconditionally, protected—was something he had hardly known in his previous life. After his father's death, after his mother was killed, after Hiyori left him… he had almost forgotten how it felt.
This is dangerous, he thought cautiously. I must not get attached. Must not forget. I still have to find out what happened to Celia. And this world… surely has its own dangers.
Suddenly, quick, light footsteps were heard from the corridor, accompanied by the excited voice of a young girl.
Claire: (from outside) "FATHER! MOTHER!"
The bedroom door swung wide open. A little girl of about three years old rushed in. Her hair was long, jet-black, slightly disheveled from running. Her eyes were a clear blue, and her still-childish face showed a mix of excitement and anxiety. She wore a beautiful little dress.
Maid #1: (gently scolding) "Young Miss, please be calm—"
But Claire ignored her. Her eyes immediately locked onto the small bundle in her mother's arms.
Claire: (voice trembling with hope) "Is that… is that my little brother?"
Her father smiled broadly, his expression bursting with pride.
Father: "Yes, Claire. This is your little brother. He has been born."
Claire covered her mouth with both small hands. Tears welled up in her blue eyes.
Claire: "Thank goodness… I… I was so afraid…"
She approached, then knelt carefully beside the bed, her eyes never leaving the baby.
Claire: (voice soft and full of reverence) "May I see him closer, Mother?"
The mother gave a weak smile and nodded. Claire leaned in, her face just inches from Kyoichiiro's.
Claire: (whispering, awestruck) "His eyes… blue like the sky. And he's so calm… not crying anymore."
She then smiled, the sweet, innocent smile of an elder sister who has long awaited her sibling's arrival.
Claire: "My name is Claire. I am your big sister. I will protect you. Always. I promise."
Kyoichiiro gazed at the little girl in front of him. Her earnest, sincere face suddenly overlapped with the image of Celia—his sister from his previous life, her face full of sorrow and blood as he died in her arms.
Big Sister… Kyoichiiro thought with a deep pang of sorrow. Celia…
A terrifying question arose in his mind: Will this world repeat the same tragedy? Will I lose the people I care for all over again? Will my very existence only bring misfortune upon them?
Outside the high window of the chamber, a gentle spring breeze blew, carrying drifting flower petals. The sky of this world seemed peaceful, a bright blue with a warm sun. Yet, far beneath that surface calm, fate was arranging its new stage. And the second life of Kyoichiiro Khaneo—with all its memories, wounds, and resolve—had begun. Not as a hunted monster, not as a threat to be eradicated, but as a baby held in the loving embrace of a family who did not know the heavy burden carried within this small soul.