Here it is again.
The sound.
The scent.
And the piercing pain as my heartbeat slowed.
A painful groan escaped from me. The burning and throbbing sensation continued beneath my skin. The tearing of my skin persisted like an unyielding current.
My vision was blurry and unfocused. My breath became uneven. My body was choking under pressure, yet I could only endure.
"Haa…"
"Haaa…"
Can I continue?
"Haaaa…"
A bitter taste clung to my mouth. My sense of taste had long been lost due to the medicine. The words delicious and tasty could never come out of my mouth.
I gasped again. Delirious and weakened, my eyes darted toward the clock. Time seemed unbothered by all the suffering and torment I felt.
Oh…
How painful....
"Are you sure you don't want to eat?"
The nurse asked worriedly. Her expression clearly showed how severe my condition was.
"It is okay. I only need time alone," I replied with the best smile I could muster.
All I received in return was a face filled with anguish for my pain—yet still hoping for a miracle. Hoping that somehow I could survive.
The nurse, whose name I could not remember, nodded. She still left the tray of food beside me. Seeing the warm soup right beside my bed, I couldn't help but shake my head.
"She is very persistent," I thought.
I shook my head again as I took my laptop—my only treasure and portal to the world.
"Okay, let's do this."
My fingers danced across the keyboard, forming words I knew from my head but were guided by my heart.
My focus remained firm despite my ailing body. No longer hindered by the effects of medicine, my mind was clear as ever. The drowsiness disappeared, replaced by an imagination that could break even the chains of my illness.
Time blinked by, and soon the room became filled with the sounds of machines and my own coughing.
How hateful.
This state.
This body.
I clenched my fist in anger, an emotion I knew came from my weakening body.
I momentarily halted my typing. My body trembled, and my anger escalated, yet I knew I would be able to finish.
{DING!}
Something popped up.
What?
Upon reading it, my entire body eased. Seeing the messages I received, the anguish I felt was soon filled with happiness.
Knowing that somewhere in the world, people actually knew me.
Man… how on earth am I supposed to keep going?
Tears welled up, dropping right into my keyboard.
My heart was full, yet all my body could feel was pain.
But it no longer mattered.
What happened to me did not need to be dramatic. There were no final speeches.
Just a soft smile and the warmth of a laptop against my palms.
I shot a glance at the picture frame beside my bed. Right there, a couple smiled even when exhaustion had crept into their faces.
My smile faltered a bit before composing itself once again.
"…in memory of a son whose wish is to make his parents happy…."
I typed in earnest, wanting my message to reach them—not just the readers who had supported me.
Please….
If God exists…
I beg you…
Take care of my parents.
My finger finally tapped enter.
I had finished it.
My final story.
I hit the upload button.
Satisfied and fulfilled that my final wish was complete.
My smile no longer pained me.
I felt content.
As the laptop closed, so did my eyes.
Darkness came like closing a book.
And when I opened my eyes again—I cried.
Not because I was sad.
Because I had lungs too small to control.
The sudden flow of air made my body lurch forward.
I was able to breathe.
Air burned differently.
It was warmer.
Thicker.
Making me feel more alive.
It flowed so easily that I did not choke.
But then voices echoed above me, along with sudden warmth that took me by surprise.
"She's strong."
"No, it's a boy."
"Careful—support his head."
Strong?
That was new.
But what exactly was going on?
I tried to move.
Huh?
That was strange.
My arms responded, but I jerked like someone startled instead of reaching out.
I hurriedly opened my eyes, though I found it difficult at first until I finally succeeded. Blinking like someone barely awake, my eyes suddenly widened as something unexpected struck me.
I was small.
Just small.
Tiny.
Helpless.
My arms were too small.
I tried to look around, only to see everything blurred—like the painful blur I experienced during operations.
A cry escaped from me but stopped abruptly as I caught myself making a strange sound.
Oh shit, don't tell me…
Panic should have come.
But it didn't.
My mind, from being a writer, gave me the mindset that everything was possible. After all, reality bends easily when you've imagined a thousand versions of it.
So instead of fear—I observed.
The ceiling was black, white, and gray. Aside from my arm's reach, I could not see clearly. It felt like I was staring at thick fog I could not unveil.
More importantly—
The air smelled like herbs and smoke.
No antiseptic.
No machines.
No sterile white walls.
Someone lifted me closer to their chest.
Warm arms held me.
A heartbeat pressed gently against my cheek.
"My son…" she whispered, her voice trembling.
I tilted my head as much as a newborn could.
Despite my limited vision, I could see her face clearly.
Brown hair.
Tired eyes.
A woman who looked like she had fought something invisible—and won.
Is she my mother?
Not the one from my previous life.
But mine now.
I tried to speak.
But only a weak sound escaped.
That was when it settled in.
I wasn't dreaming.
I wasn't hallucinating in the final moments of my brain.
I had been given something absurd.
Another beginning.
This is real.
My life is real.
And I can live the way I wanted to.
Bit by bit, as months went by, my eyes began to see colors I used to see before in my previous life. The explosion of colors in my eyes was like magic that I could not forget.
From there, my motor skills also improved, and of course, given my circumstances, I was way better than normal babies.
"Wait, he is walking already?"
"Shhh… honey, leave him be. Let him try."
Never in my life had I tried something this physically straining. I had never experienced physical activity either. So this practice of walking was the most physically taxing thing I had ever done.
Hufff….
My muscles were trembling, my cheeks flushed, while my sweat dripped down as I waddled across the floor.
One step…
Two steps…
As I tried my hardest, I heard a squeal coming from my mother. It seemed she was more excited than me.
I just shook my head, not wanting to be distracted.
I puffed another breath and tried to take another step.
One more.
Just another step, and I could rest again.
Tak!
My feet landed on the wooden floor.
I smirked in triumph.
But more than that, my mother's and father's celebration made my smile even wider.
Yes, I did it!
Praise me more!
I raised my arms and shouted all the words a baby could say. I wished I could jump, but that could wait until I could run.
Time went by, and soon I grew more. A few things that I found strange were that my memories as a baby became blurry and not so clear.
Like some things faded.
But my past life remained sharp.
After all, my life was mostly spent inside four white walls.
Hospital corridors—how could I ever forget them?
And the horrid repeated routine.
Oxygen masks.
The tapping of keys at 3 a.m.
They all stayed with me.
But now—
I could move easily.
I could breathe without trouble.
I stepped into the grass outside my home, confident in my newly adapted body.
Running was the first thing I tried outside.
The first time I ran, I tripped and scraped my knee.
I stared at the blood for a long time.
Not because it hurt.
But because it healed.
It was a new type of pain—one that didn't bring me anguish.
It made me feel hope that in this life everything could be better.
Truthfully, my new body was not perfect.
I was still thinner than other children.
Not fragile—but not sturdy either.
Yet compared to before?
It felt like I had stolen someone else's miracle.
I excitedly raised my arms to feel the wind.
"Wow… how pretty."
I liked this place.
It was peaceful and didn't have anything eventful going on.
We lived in a quiet countryside village called Red Cliff Village.
There were no giant houses.
Instead, there were stone cottages and open fields.
In the distance, I could hear steel striking steel from the training grounds near the hill. The village chief had the people train in case of emergency, but it rarely happened, and oftentimes the adventurers handled such matters instead.
Magic existed here like in your typical reincarnation story.
Like some common stories you could read everywhere, there were also saints and heroes—and a fearsome demon king that needed to be slain.
But don't worry.
That part of the story had ended nearly seven years ago.
So the world was currently in its peaceful era, still part of the happily-ever-after ending.
We were currently living in the legacy they worked hard for.
I learned that early.
As for magic, I first learned its concept when I asked a traveling merchant. He gave me a rough explanation, and I filled the gaps using ideas from my previous life.
According to him, casting magic was like cooking.
The first ingredient was the energy used to harness it.
They called it Veil.
I was expecting mana, but Veil was also a cool name.
Veil flowed in nature, in people, and in non-human creatures.
It flowed everywhere like air.
The first thing I did was try to sense it inside my body. I followed the words I often wrote—the sensations and forces I described despite not truly knowing them before.
Those feelings soon flooded my senses, engulfing me like being submerged underwater.
Then deep beneath the surface, I finally felt awake.
There it was.
Warmth.
It moved slowly inside my body.
I took hold of that movement.
I guided it in steady circulation.
As soon as I controlled it proficiently, a sudden vitality hit my body.
I felt stronger.
And my tiny arms and legs grew wider, though not noticeably.
I smiled, thinking I had grown a little healthier.
"This is good… let's keep going."