Milim leaned over her baby brother, grinning from ear to ear. "So, Mom... let me get this straight. His name's Melicas because you wanted something that sounds like Lucia?"
Lucia arched a brow. "Yes. What about it?"
Milim snickered. "You basically named him... Mini You."
Lucia blinked, then chuckled softly. "That's one way to see it."
"Oh no, no," Milim continued dramatically. "It's worse! You're going to start calling us 'Lucia Senior' and 'Lucia Junior,' aren't you?"
"Oh, stop it." Lucia swatted lightly at her daughter's arm, smiling in spite of herself. "He's my precious little Melicas, not a copy."
"Sure, sure," Milim teased, poking the baby's cheek. "You even gave him your hair color—though thankfully, he didn't inherit your sense of naming."
Lucia sighed with exaggerated patience. "You'll see how hard it is to name a child when your turn comes."
Milim stuck out her tongue. "Please. I'd come up with something cooler!"
Melicas, watching this exchange with wide golden eyes, simply blinked.
To his infant mind, it all sounded like musical nonsense, but their tones were warm—so it must've been something about him.
He let out a tiny gurgle, then a laugh. Both women froze, then turned to look at him.
Lucia's stern expression softened. "See, Milim? He's laughing at your jokes."
Milim gasped. "What?! No! He's clearly laughing with me, not at me!"
Melicas giggled again, waving his small hands. They were both right, in their own way—he'd just found the whole thing entertaining. He wasn't sure what "Mini You" meant, but if it made both of them smile like that, then he didn't mind being one.
Time passed.
Mellicas had begun to understand the language his family spoke, piecing together words day by day.
He learned that his name was Mellicas—derived from his mother's name, Lucia—and that the young woman from that day was not an aunt as he first assumed, but his older sister, Milim.
His first word came easily and deliberately: "Mama."
Lucia had been overjoyed. Tears of happiness filled her eyes as she held him close, whispering blessings and promises. And just like that, a few months later, he began to crawl.
"My baby, come to Mama," Lucia called, squatting down with open arms. Her silver blue hair shimmered in the sunlight spilling through the curtains, and her smile could have outshone the stars.
Mellicas had been an unusually calm child. He cried only when hungry or if separated from his mother at night. Eventually, Lucia stopped trying to leave him in the cradle altogether. Every night, she slept with him held close, his tiny body pressed to her warmth.
Her affection deepened as she watched him grow. At only three months old, he was already trying to speak, crawl, and even stand. Each attempt made her heart melt anew.
"Look at you,"
she murmured proudly. "So determined already."
Mellicas, however, was anything but content.
Three months, and he was still trapped in this helpless body. It wasn't just the diapers or baby talk—it was the immobility.
He'd died sitting still in his old life, and now here he was again—barely able to crawl. The irony stung.
"I want to move… to run… to see the world," he thought helplessly, although all that came out was a baby's gurgle.Then came the challenge.
"No, Mellicas! Come to Big Sis!"
Milim called from the opposite side of the room, her tone bright and teasing.Mellicas froze mid-crawl.
On one side was his mother, arms open and eyes glowing with affection.
On the other, his sister, beckoning with a mischievous grin.He pretended to ponder seriously—but the answer was already clear.
Obviously, I go to the milk source.
Cough… I mean, my mother would be hurt if I didn't, right? Definitely not just for selfish reasons.
So he turned toward Lucia, pushing forward on shaky hands and knees.Milim pouted dramatically.
"Traitor."
He tried to stand, but his legs wobbled—and the world seemed to tilt. He should have fallen, but instead, gentle hands caught him midair.
"Wait… what?" he thought, blinking. She'd been across the room, yet here she was, holding him.
"How did she move that fast?! Was that… teleportation? Dragon speed? Magic?"
Panic hit him for an instant, and realizing that wasn't very baby-like behavior, tears welled in his eyes. A moment later, he let out a soft cry.
Lucia's heart shattered at the sound. She hugged him close, rocking him gently. "There, there, my darling. Mama's here. I'll always protect you."
From the corner of the room, Milim clenched her fists. "I'll protect you too, little brother," she swore silently.
More time passed.At six months old, Mellicas could walk, albeit clumsily. Lucia and Milim coordinated perfectly—Milim staying close behind to catch him if he toppled, and Lucia kneeling ahead with open arms and endless encouragement.
He understood nearly everything they said now, though they rarely talked about anything but love and laughter. Not a word about dragons, kingdoms, or power. Only warmth.
By the time he turned one, Mellicas could speak full sentences—though his childish voice and shaky grammar betrayed his age. He spoke only when necessary, too self-conscious about his baby tone.
One morning, after finishing his meal from Lucia's breast, he stood up and toddled toward the edge of the massive bed. Lucia quickly moved to help him down.
Though he had done it safely dozens of times, her worry never lessened. She still remembered the first time he tried—how he almost fell on his backside and how she caught him midair.
That memory never left her.Mellicas's thoughts, however, were elsewhere.A full year had passed, and he hadn't once left this room. He knew nothing about this world. No answers. No context. Just warmth and care.
That had to change.
He wanted to learn—to understand his new reality. And the best way to start, he decided, was not by asking questions no baby should ask, but by learning to read.
He waddled over to the great bookshelf near the wall, filled with tomes that had always tugged at his curiosity.
Standing before it, he pointed at one of the large books.
"Mama,"
he called softly.
Lucia turned, smiling. "You want Mama to read you a story?"
He shook his head.She tilted her head in confusion.
"No? Then what is it, sweetheart?"
He took a breath and said carefully,
"Mama. Mellicas. Read. Book. Himself."
Lucia blinked, her brows lifting slightly. "You… want to read it yourself?"
He nodded.
"But you don't know how to read yet."
He shook his head again.
Her eyes widened in realization.
"Oh, you want Mama to teach you?"
This time, he nodded eagerly—like a tiny pecking bird.
Lucia's lips parted in astonishment, then curved into a soft, proud smile.
"Only one year old, and already wanting to read. What kind of child did I bring into the world?"
she wondered aloud, brushing a hand over his silver blue hair.
"Well, my clever boy,"
she whispered, lifting him into her arms, "how could Mama ever refuse your first request?"
That evening marked the beginning of a new routine.
Every night after dinner, Milim would come by to play with her brother, and Lucia would hold him close as she guided his small fingers across the pages.
The castle would echo with laughter, warmth, and the soft sound of turning pages.
And so, in the heart of the Dragon Continent, beneath the golden light of the royal chamber,
Mellicas Nava took his very first step toward understanding the world he had been reborn into.
The world of dragons.