Crash!
Metal screamed against asphalt. The world spun violently, each rotation hammering his skull with nauseating force.
Ah, did I just die?
That damn van! Roxas Boulevard had a 60kph speed limit for Pete's sake!
Darkness swallowed everything. No tunnel of light greeted him. No angelic chorus. Just an endless void that pressed against him from all sides, suffocating and complete.
I thought you'd see tunnel light when you die? It's pitch black here…
Eman drifted through the nothingness, weightless and disoriented. The memory of impact remained vivid in his mind. His scooter crumpling like paper. His body launched through the air, a helpless ragdoll flung several meters down the road. Then nothing but this overwhelming darkness.
Good thing I didn't bring those cats with me. I hope Shiela would take care of them.
He tried to sigh into the void, though he wasn't sure if he still had lungs to breathe with. Time lost all meaning in this place. Minutes could have been hours. Hours could have been seconds.
What a great way to end my day…
Is this what death feels like?
The silence stretched endlessly, almost peaceful in its completeness. No responsibilities chasing him here. No deadlines or emergencies.
No alarm, no riding my motorcycle early in the morning, no production incident testing.
Just me, floating in the void.
A bitter laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside, though no sound emerged in the darkness.
At least it's not "Truck-kun." Wait, did I just get isekai'd by a van instead? Lame.
Then he saw it.
Light.
A brilliant golden radiance bloomed in the distance like a star being born. It grew larger, brighter, reaching toward him with warm tendrils.
Oh there it is! The legendary bright light that swallows the dying.
He closed his eyes as the warmth washed over him. New sensations crept into his awareness. The soft clink of metal against ceramic. The rich aroma of freshly baked bread mixing with something savory and comforting.
His consciousness stirred, grasping at these fragments of reality.
Eman opened his eyes.
Blinding gold filled his vision. He squinted against the brightness, waiting for his sight to adjust. Shapes emerged slowly from the haze. Wooden beams stretched across a ceiling. Sunlight streamed through a nearby window, painting everything in warm honey tones.
What the heck? Where am I?
Movement caught his attention in the periphery. He tried to turn his head, but his body felt strange. Too heavy in some ways, too light in others. His muscles refused to cooperate properly. Frowning with effort, he managed to lift his arm.
Tiny fingers wiggled before his eyes.
Baby fingers.
His baby fingers.
"Was I reincarnated?!"
The words emerged as meaningless babble, soft gibberish that would mean nothing to anyone listening.
Footsteps approached, light and measured on the wooden floor.
"No, I think I'm in heaven."
A figure emerged from the golden haze, moving with the fluid grace of flowing water. Long silvery white hair cascaded past her shoulders as she leaned down to examine him. Her pointed ears marked her as something other than human. Crimson eyes sparkled with life and warmth. Her skin seemed to glow with an inner radiance, smooth and perfect.
What a beauty.
She lifted him gently, cradling his small form against her chest. Her smile was warm and genuine, touched with amusement at his babbling.
"Maybe she's a princess?"
"No, she's definitely a goddess!"
The woman laughed, the sound musical and light. "When did you become that talkative, little one?"
She carried him across the room to a simple wooden table. Breakfast waited there in humble dishware. Steam still rose from the fresh bread. A wooden bowl held aromatic soup. Clay cup filled with what looked like homemade tea.
Eman reached up to touch his ears, remembering her pointed tips. He expected to find similar features on himself. His hand brushed against something else first. Something soft and warm that his tiny fingers sank into.
"It's a bit weird but,"
"I think my mother is a gifted one."
He nodded sagely at his profound observation, though it emerged as more incomprehensible babbling.
Wait, focus Eman...
He shook his tiny head to clear his thoughts and properly touched his ears this time. The shapes he found confused him. Round curves instead of elegant points.
"I'm not an elf?"
The woman's expression shifted to concern. Her eyebrows drew together slightly. "Are you alright, little one?"
She settled gracefully into her chair before pressing her forehead gently against his. Her scent enveloped him completely. Morning flowers mixed with sunshine and an indefinable sense of safety. Warmth radiated from her skin. Soothing.
A moment passed in comfortable silence.
She pulled back with a relieved sigh. "You got flustered so I thought you had a fever."
Her face softened with relief. "I thank the elven god you're alright."
He waved his tiny fists, an instinctual gesture to point out the misplaced strap. Part of his brain screamed that this was his mother and he shouldn't even be noticing, but a louder, more honest part of him, the part that was still Eman, couldn't help but see her as the beautiful stranger she was. The situation was absurdly intimate.
She paused her meal, her crimson eyes following his frantic gestures. Her gaze fell upon the misaligned strap. Without a hint of embarrassment, she simply hooked a finger under it and slid it back into place, her calm completely unshaken.
He quieted, a new thought solidifying in his mind. She might be this body's mother, but she isn't mine. The feeling wasn't one of rejection, but of simple, jarring clarity.
"You're just like Sam."
The name hung heavy in the air. Her voice had changed when she spoke it, becoming softer and more distant. Something unspoken lingered in that simple statement.
Sam. My his father?
Did he leave them?
But if that's the case, I'll beat him up when we see each other!
She finished her meal with practiced movements, each action speaking of daily routine. Soon he found himself back in the wooden crib, surrounded by soft blankets.
"Next time, I'll tell you about him,"
She paused at the sink.
"and Claire."
Another pause stretched longer.
"But for now, I need to work."
Dishes clinked softly as she washed them. Eman watched from his crib, processing this new information.
Sam and Claire, huh?
And it seems like I still need to work here?
The irony of his situation wasn't lost on him. Death hadn't freed him from labor after all.
All the money I saved and those insurances,
20 years of saving, lost in an instant, but being reincarnated isn't bad at all.
Then the thought struck him like lightning.
Wait a minute, maybe there's magic here!
His eyes lit up with excitement. Both arms raised dramatically. His tiny heart pounded with anticipation of wielding mystical powers.
"Fireball!"
Nothing happened.
Silence stretched between his outstretched hands.
"Ice lance!"
Still nothing.
"Electric shock!"
"Earth spike!"
His arms dropped to his sides. He stared blankly at the wooden ceiling, processing this disappointing development.
"What are you playing, little one?"
She stood beside the crib now, changed into work clothes. A patched dress hung loosely on her frame, obviously too small. Her brown belt bristled with gardening tools. Trowel, hand cultivator, and other implements of agricultural labor. Two milk bottles now hung from the crib's side rails.
She patted his head affectionately. "I'll be back before nightfall."
The door closed with a soft click. Solitude settled over the small home.
Hunger began gnawing at his tiny stomach. The bottles hung tantalizingly close yet impossibly far from his reaching hands.
It's too high, damn it!
Then the world shifted.
Trembling.
The floorboards vibrated beneath him. Dust drifted down from the ceiling like snow. The entire house shook as if caught in the grip of some massive force.
And then came the sound.
Low.
Deep.
Terrifying.
A roar erupted from everywhere and nowhere at once. It pressed against his chest with physical force. Squeezed his lungs. Turned his blood to ice water. The sound penetrated everything, shaking the very air itself.
Eman lost his balance completely. His infant body toppled backward onto the soft blankets. He lay there, unable to move. Not from physical weakness but from the overwhelming terror that gripped every fiber of his being.
The roar faded gradually, like thunder rolling away across distant mountains. The shaking subsided. Dust settled.
Silence returned.
His tiny heart hammered against his ribs like a caged bird desperate for escape.
And yet, despite the lingering fear that coursed through his veins, despite the terror that still made his hands tremble, Eman felt his lips curl into a smirk.
That's definitely a dragon!