1. Prologue : Three Brats, And A Grumpy Old Man

At first, everything felt like a dream.

Waking up in a different body overnight is not something anyone can handle. But I'm just not anybody.

It took me two whole days of insanity to accept the fact that I reincarnated as a baby, in a shabby-looking cabin, with three lousy brats and a grumpy older man who's taking care of me. Poorly.

Even though I dislike the grumpy old man, I don't like the three brats more. They're all loud. They poked my body, stack tiny pebbles and sticks on my forehead, even went as far as snatching my milk bottle away from me.

Yesterday they shoved a whole mantis in my mouth. It was the most disturbing experience in my life, so I don't want to talk about it.

Instead of having a crisis about my existence regarding the absurdity that I reincarnated as a baby in the middle of nowhere, I've been contemplating about what kind of method I should use later when I'm older to eliminate these three scoundrels.

In other words, they prevented me from prolonging my inner turmoil. So they helped in a way.

Today, the old man cradled me and kept a watch on the three brats. He seemed to be just noticing their crimes, which was a good thing. I need a break from their mischievous deeds.

"You know, you should've cry if something or someone upset you," The man grumbled, concentrating on making sure there's no milk spilled as I suckled eagerly.

Oh yeah, I haven't cried since I woke up as a baby. It must be unnerving to watch a baby that never cries. Should I pretend, at least?

Nah. I couldn't be bothered.

Instead, I giggled because the way he pursed his lips with those grim scars on his face made him look ridiculous.

Later, when I could talk, I wanted to know about those scars.

And everything else about me.

After finishing my lunch, the man placed me on the warm blankets sprawled on the wooden floor. He wiped the remains of milk from my face with his calloused thumbs, wrapped me in linen cloth clumsily, then exited the tiny room.

I heard several chattering from beyond the door—possibly those three brats begging the man to let them in. Knowing that the man wouldn't let the brats in, I closed my eyes with a tiny smile curled from the corners of my lips.

But...

"Yay, baby Azy!"

"We can see the baby!"

Darn it, old man. I'll be sure to make an extra grave for you next to those brats.

I opened my eyes in fright, seeing how the small door opened with such force that I felt a tremor run through my body.

No, no, no. Please don't come near me!

The kids all knelt beside me, looking down at me with a sparkle in their eyes. I don't have a good feeling about this. One of the toddlers pushed his chubby forefinger on my cheek, giggling obnoxiously.

"He's so cute. Do you think he want beetles for dinner?"

I gaped my mouth in shock.

"Ah, look! He opened his mouth! That means yes!"

"Gu!?" No, that's not it! Read my face, you lousy kids! I must've looked like I'm scared to death!

"Darcio told us not to stuff anything Azy's mouth anymore," The toddler with brown curly hair chirped, propped his elbows on the blankets with palms on his cheeks, staring at me with a smile.

I declare you as my savior. I'll spare your life, kid.

"But!" Again, the blonde kid who kept trying to feed me insects protested. His chubby cheeks flushed red, pouting petulantly. "Baby Azy must eat lots! He's so teenee,"

"You mean tiny?" Then there's the one with black hair, who's busy poking his dirty forefinger on my cheeks—this rat.

"Yeah, that," The blonde nodded.

"Darcio get milk every day for Azy. I'm sure the baby will be fine, Morfeo,"

Oh, so the loudest of the bunch was called Morfeo? What a strange name. I thought my name was strange at first, though I'm sure it was a nickname. This world was far more foreign than I thought.

Morfeo puffed his cheeks again. "Hmp!" He crossed his tiny arms, glaring at the curly-haired toddler. "You're no fun, Tyr,"

Tyr rolled his eyes. "I'm the oldest,"

"You're six," The black-haired one mumbled. This time he stopped poking my sore cheeks. Ugh, they're prickling. Was my skin that sensitive? I'm sure the kid didn't poke that hard.

"And you're a month younger than me. Morfeo's five," Tyr countered with a toothless grin. Morfeo gasped, seemed utterly offended.

"It can't be! I'm sure I'm ten years old! And Yeomra's two,"

"How am I two years old? I'm bigger than you," The black-haired one deadpanned. Morfeo stood up abruptly. His face was flushed.

"Let's compare heights right now!"

"And what will I get in following your request?" Yeomra quirked an eyebrow with disinterest, the formality in his speech sounded nothing but mockery.

"You can hold baby Azy!"

Wait a minute-

I was busy watching the amusing dialogue between little brats, glad that they seemed to have forgotten about me.

Sadly it didn't last two minutes.

"Deal," Yeomra agreed swiftly, getting up as well.

Those two brats are going to drop me! Tyr, my savior, do something!

Tyr looked at me, and we maintained eye contact for ten seconds before he broke it and got up too.

"I wanna hold baby Azy too!"

I hate my life.