I know that it is ridiculous of to speak of death as a way out of my situation. I know it is a display of cowardice.. but what can I do? How can I live in this world?
I don’t want to experience it again, but I have no choice.
Life is a blessing, no– it is not a blessing, it is a chance, a chance to leave a mark in the land of the living and death seals that chance, so death completes life and gives it aning.
This ans that every life has a purpose, a reason, but.. I’ve long exhausted mine back on earth. Now the mories of my past life live within , and the never-fading love I have in my heart is the very cause of my tornt.
What is the purpose of my new life? It is devoid of purpose.
The grief and sorrow I feel from losing a love and people that I would never see again forever is too much for to bear, all hope is lost for .
And I can only ask these questions amid my sadness...
Why?
Why must I keep living with this pain I’m feeling right now? Should I keep living in a world without my family? What is the reason for this life I was given?
Should I just live on and forget about the precious life I lived? The love that still lingers in my heart? How the hell is that possible?
My heart feels like it’s burning, the pain I feel is like a burning fire.
So I’d die, maybe with death, my pain will finally end. I want to exit this reality that exists without my Love.
But I’m scared of death, I know how it feels– it’s not glorious, it’s not calm and it’s not sweet. It’s cold, scary, mortifying and it’s sothing I never wish to experience it again.
But it’s also what I need to do, to give my past life aning, and to escape this pain.
So yes, you can call a coward, but I don’t care, because anyone would do the sa in my condition.
A scribbling sound echoes in the room. It’s the sound of quill scratching on paper.
My gaze lands on Jennette. She’s still writing intently and gracefully on her paper. She doesn’t even notice crying.
A small, bitter smile curls my lips, my eyeballs drowning in my tears.
She seems to have taken a liking to , but I’d soon leave her in this world.
Sad it may be– but it’s what is necessary for .
And abruptly; she lifts her head. I flinch as her deep brown eyes peer Into mine.
My heartbeat goes off rhythm as my body flinches slightly.
Her mouth slowly widens as a mischievous grin stretches on her lips.
"Do you miss ?" she says In a low, calm voice.
Clack!
My eyes blink reflexively as she drops her quill on the table imdiately,
"No ~wonder~ you aren’t playing with the toys I gave you, you miss , don’t you? Yes, you do!"
She makes playful, silly faces as she looks at from afar.
I’m a thirty-five-year-old grown man– I can’t play with toys, and if only you knew the thoughts I’m having right now, the smile on your face wouldn’t be present.
A soft, warm breeze escapes my mouth and nostrils. No one in this world will ever understand .
"I’m quite ~bored~ myself, do you wanna see sothing fun?"
...What is she up to now?
She imdiately outstretches her right hand from where she sits, using her index finger to draw a circle in the air...
What is she doing? Is she crazy?
My eyebrows furrow as I view her sudden display, the gesture she makes in the air like she’s drawing sothing makes no sense to .
She swiftly divides the circle she drew on the air from up to down.
Wong!
A green hue of light flashes from her index finger.
What...? I– Is this real?
My brows relax, eyes widening at the sight of this unique and magical display.
"Vlatu!" she yells.
Suddenly, my cradle where I’m lying down starts floating in the air.
I’m bewildered by the event unfolding before my very vision.
With each gesture she makes with her index finger, my cradle moves either left or right.
As she raises her index finger, my cradle goes up, as she moves her index finger left, my cradle moves left on the air, as she moves her index finger right, my cradle moves right.
As a modern, 35-year-old man from the 21st century, I’ve seen many things. Heck I’ve even reincarnated– yet, nothing I’ve seen is as absurd and magical as this. I’m stupefied.
My entire cradle is covered with the green hue of light that I can also see on her index finger.
"Hmmm."
Her mischievously cheerful smile widens as she glances at my shocked expression.
She moves her index finger down quickly, and with slight speed, my cradle which was almost reaching the ceiling, goes down, almost hitting the ground.
She then raises her index finger again slightly and with low speed, stopping my cradle from completely crashing on the ground.
All of a sudden, the green light that was twirling around the cradle starts twirling around , and... I’m floating!
The cradle falls to the ground with a thud as it no longer floats.
So this is what makes this world different from Earth... Magic!
For the first ti in one month, my heart is drumming with a unique rhythm, not from grief or from sorrow– but excitent.
I can’t stop it. My lips curl upward into a toothless grin and cute giggles escape my mouth.
With her magic, she moves around the room, and I feel like I’m flying.
The air has a particular scent to it. It slls of oranges and dry wood– like hope.
The sorrow in my heart seems to wash away as my heart keeps drumming– sending approvals.
She brings closer to herself where she’s sitting and drops on her wooden table.
"How was that? Did you like it?"
Her sunshine smile beams brightly as she looks at with her radiant brown eyes.
I loved it!
The green light around disappears and the light on her index finger disappears too.
She then grabs tenderly, holding my waist carefully as she places to relax on her cradled arms.
"It’s our little ~secret~ okay? Nobody in this #mansion# can know that I’m a mage."
Her arms are soft– warm and cozy, it feels like I’m in the right place, where I’m supposed to be.
Everything is half blurry now, I can barely keep my eyes open.
I hate this damn baby body of mine, I feel so sleepy, and any ti my body wants to sleep, I just can’t resist th-
______________________
I look at the cute baby boy who’s fast asleep in my arms.
He fell asleep.
A warm smile spreads on my face.
I always feel bad for this child, the poor innocent soul doesn’t even know what family he was born into and what challenges he’d face in ti to co.
Even his mother died as she birthed him, she was a frail woman and she was my only friend— my best friend.
He looks just like her, with his jet-black hair. If only her life as a maid wasn’t ruined because of that man, she’d still be alive by now.
I caress his soft cheeks tenderly and with care as I kiss his forehead.
Grow well, Young Master Charles.
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