A few months after I mastered walking, life began to feel wider. My small body that used to only crawl could now take me exploring every corner of the house faster and more confidently.
One quiet afternoon, with sunlight beginning to dim and leaving warm and gentle golden traces on every wooden and fabric surface it touched, I found Dad reading in the library. The air outside felt silent, only occasionally hearing small birds chirping from the garden, adding to the peaceful atmosphere.
As soon as I stepped inside, the room immediately welcomed me with its distinctive aroma—a mixture of sweet book dust, fragile old paper, ink, and the fragrance of sandalwood from the shelves that somehow always made me feel comfortable and protected.
He sat in his favorite large chair with dark brown leather cushions, a thick book on his lap, back straight but relaxed, completely immersed in his reading. Evening light entering through the stained glass window formed a sparkling silhouette around him, making him look like a character from a classic Renaissance painting.
Enchanted by that sight, I immediately approached him with small steps that were increasingly confident, enjoying the distinctive sound of my footsteps on the floor every time my soles touched the surface.
That sound had become a crisp little music accompanying my days, a small reminder that I was no longer a helpless baby—I had become an 'adult' now, at least on the small scale of a toddler.
As if wanting to prove that 'maturity,' I opened my mouth and called him: "Daaad..." while pointing at the book he was holding with my little finger that was still slightly chubby.
My voice came out clearer than before, the result of months of speaking practice that sometimes frustrated me.
"Dad, the picture... so scary! Why?"
Dad lifted his head, as if startled from a dream, his eyes widening slightly. "Oh, surprise! Eh? Oh, little Sera! Already awake from nap? Oh my, Papa didn't realize."
He pretended to just notice.
Though I knew he'd been aware from the subtle change in his jawline. Yeah, continue your acting, Dad.
He closed his book slowly, as if the object was something sacred afraid to be touched by dirty air. Its cover depicted a human enveloped in a golden light aura, surrounded by monsters with absurd shapes some with sharp horns like prehistoric rhinos, some with wings like giant bats. The image was so vivid I almost forgot to breathe from its visual tension.
This book wasn't simple!
On top was strange writing:
"uᴉnlɐᴚ ɟo ɐɹɐƎ ǝɥʇ ːuoᴉʇɐɹǝuǝƃ ʇsɹᴉℲ ǝɥ┴"
Truly a work of art.
My eyes narrowed, I sharpened my focus, trying to read those letters more carefully. But somehow, the writing on the cover looked blurry and I couldn't read it clearly. Like there was a thin layer of fog covering it, making my eyes hard to focus.
Although I didn't know the title, there was something inside me a kind of soft whisper in the corner of my mind that made me sure it was a history book. I didn't know why I was so certain. Maybe intuition. Maybe something more than that.
Doesn't matter? I thought while shaking my little head inwardly. This wasn't the first time this feeling appeared, but this was the first time I truly realized it clearly.
Previously, this feeling came like vague flashes, like when I 'knew' Mom would call me for dinner just before she did, or when I sensed Dad's little lies—but now, it was sharper.
Though I was surprised by this strange phenomenon, I could only keep it in my heart. My face had to stay innocent, eyes staying curious like a normal little kid.
No one should know about this anomaly: not Mom, not Dad, not anyone.
I stabilized my breath, forcing an innocent smile back on my face. I had to look normal. That was top priority. My breath that had been labored was now stable again, and I felt thin cold sweat on my small palms, but I wiped it secretly on my clothes, maintaining perfect facade.
Dad smiled.
As if satisfied with my curious expression, he refocused on his book.
"Scary right, the picture? Hehe, yeah, it's full of really exciting stories. This is a book about an extraordinary past!" he answered while stroking the book cover with his fingers, a movement full of affection for this inanimate object. His voice was gentle but there was an excited tone, like talking about a favorite movie.
My eyes narrowed hopefully.
Free information about this world? Taken directly from a reliable source? Of course I wanted it! This was a golden opportunity to learn without having to steal time or peek secretly.
Without wasting time, I begged with a whining voice. "Tell me, Dad! Pleeease~ Sera wants to hear!"
I deliberately made my whining voice higher, with a spoiled tone I'd practiced, adding a small vibration at the end of words for maximum effect.
While hitting his arm with my small hands, using all my acting abilities to look like a little kid who just wanted a story. I even added a small jump, making myself look more excited.
Dad looked hesitant, his eyebrows raised forming a funny curve. There was faint worry in his eyes, as if considering whether this was a good idea given the somewhat brutal cover image.
"Eh, but Sera, see these tiny letters? You'll get bored, lots of weird names and complicated dates."
But I wouldn't give up that easily.
This was a rare opportunity! Wouldn't come twice.
"Won't get bored! Tell me, Dad! Pleeease~ So Sera can be smart like Dad!" I repeated with a hamster-like pouty lips, even adding a spoiled whine while pushing out my bottom lip slightly, making my face exactly like an anime character whining.
Classic spoiled child move that rarely failed.
My old self-respect was screaming—but this move works. What else could I do, this was the best weapon my new body had. I tried to comfort myself thinking this was all for information.
Self-respect was like a faint voice from my previous life, reminding me of times I stood firm before others, but now, in this world, survival meant adaptation even if it meant becoming 'ultra pro max spoiled.'
Dad turned his face away, sighing like someone defeated, but the corners of his mouth lifted slightly a smile that told me I'd already won.
"Alright then, so stubborn! Come here, up. But... baby version for Sera okay? No difficult words. Just important points and the cool stuff."
Baby language? Natural for Dad to simplify the explanation. Not because I was stupid, but because I was still considered too young to understand complex concepts.
So... I nodded enthusiastically while thinking: Yeah, yeah, just tell me. I'll filter what's important myself. You can use baby language all you want, I can still catch the gist of the story.
He lifted me onto his lap his heartbeat steady behind his shirt, creating a soothing rhythm like a lullaby.
He adjusted my position to be more comfortable, then reopened that book. The thick papers made a srrrtt sound when opened, a familiar and pleasant sound.
Then he began telling the story with a theatrical tone, like a professional storyteller.
That srrrtt sound was like wind whispers in an ancient forest, and his theatrical tone rose and fell like waves, making the story feel alive as if I were inside it.
"So here's the thing, Sera..." His voice dropped an octave, creating a mysterious atmosphere.
"Ahem... Once upon a time, a thousand years ago, humans were just playing around, really peaceful. But suddenly..."
"Suddenly what?" I put on a confused expression, while tilting my head slightly to look more attentive.
"BOOOOM!" Dad clapped his hands hard near my ear, the thundering sound booming throughout the quiet room.
"Boom!" I was startled and clapped my little hands too, but my heart was pounding hard, almost jumping from my chest. My body jerked reflexively, and I almost fell from his lap if his hands hadn't quickly caught me at my waist.
Sudden sound effect attack!
No warning at all! Damn Dad! Couldn't you not make me die from shock?
I complained long inwardly, feeling adrenaline suddenly pumping through my entire body. But outside, I kept maintaining a curious expression—eyes perfectly rounded, mouth slightly open, as if I was truly shocked in the innocent sense, not in the 'almost had a heart attack' sense.
"Haha, startled? There was a really huge star falling from the sky, woooosh!" Dad continued enthusiastically, his hand moving to describe the dramatic falling trajectory. He even made a dramatic hissing sound as the star seemingly hit the earth.
"And from the ground... Giant scary monsters appeared, biting everything! Big as houses!"
I nodded seriously while thinking: Hmm, this is classic. Meteor brings mutation. Like a typical novel.
Very standard plot for fantasy stories—disaster from the sky, monsters emerging, chaos everywhere. I'd read dozens of stories with similar premises in my previous life.
But wait...
Something was off.
Dad said this was a history book, but the storyline was very similar to a generic fantasy novel. Too similar to be coincidence.
A disturbing thought crossed quickly.
Wait... Is Dad telling me about a novel now? Not history?
That thought was like a thorn in my brain, stabbing sharply, making me question every word coming from his mouth.
That thought crossed quickly, followed by awareness that made my chest slightly tight with anger.
Damn, my dad was lying to me!
Or maybe... maybe he was deliberately simplifying historical stories into fairy tales so they'd be easier for little kids to understand? That could be a more reasonable explanation.
I looked at Dad with an unhappy gaze, puckering my lips slightly in a small pouting expression. My eyes narrowed slightly, trying to read his facial expression. But he kept talking as if not noticing my gaze, too immersed in his own story, his hands still moving around describing dramatic scenes.
"Humans were scared, cities collapsed, thousands of people... just disappeared. Crying everywhere! The world was about to be totally destroyed!"
Dramatic pause.
I could feel the tension he was trying to build.
"But... heh-heh!" Dad brought his face close to my ear, whispering mysteriously. "Suddenly amazing people appeared! Could release magical powers!"
Ah, superpower system. Standard fantasy apocalypse plot.
And also Dad was so terrible he said baby language, but this was elementary school language!
I was 100% sure Dad was telling a novel now. This was too cliché to be real history. He must be adapting a novel story into 'history' to make it more interesting for me.
My dad is a fraud, I thought inwardly with a tone both amused and slightly annoyed mixed together.
"They threw fire shoooot! Ran fast zooooom!" Dad imitated throwing movements enthusiastically, his hands moving quickly in the air—movements that looked too trained to be mere imitation. Then he pretended to run in place, his feet thud thud on the floor.
That throwing movement was like martial arts, his hand cutting the air with speed that made wind blow lightly to my face.
I stared at Dad with my mouth forming an O.
I felt Dad was like a clown now... Where was that dignified appearance from before? His handsome face was now covered by a childish expression.
"And there was one strongest hero who led everyone! Hiyaa!"
Dad spoke with sparkling eyes like an idol fan, genuine admiration there. That admiration radiated from his voice that trembled lightly, as if that hero was his irreplaceable childhood idol.
Seeing how enthusiastic Dad was, I tilted my head at a cute angle and asked innocently. This time, I was genuinely curious. more about the ending than the cliché hero.
"Dad... That hero... where now?"
Dad smiled mysteriously, his eyes deep like remembering something. "People say, he went back to the sky after beating all the monsters. Just disappeared."
Ah, classic. Hero disappears after mission complete. Trope that never dies.
I almost clicked my tongue, but held back.
Truly a novel with a bad ending, I thought inwardly with genuine disappointment. Endings like that always frustrated me—too ambiguous, no closure! I hate cliffhanger endings!
As disappointment began filling my mind, Dad suddenly added something that made my ears immediately perk up.
"But... his sword is still around, Sera! The sword he used to defeat the last monster! Someday Papa will take you to see it, promise!"
My eyes widened, this time not acting.
Genuine shock.
"Really exists?! Is the sword big, Dad? Sera wants to hold it!"
"Of course! Kept in the city center museum. Really huge, shiny, can make eyes dazzle!"
Wait, this is really history? Not a novel?
My mind spun quickly, rearranging all assumptions. If there was a physical artifact in the museum, this story wasn't fiction. Was its history different from the book Dad was holding? That's why I was sure Dad was lying?
Or maybe... maybe I misinterpreted my intuition earlier? The 'history' intuition was correct, but the plot really was like fiction.
I fell silent, digesting this information seriously.
This world... really had history similar to novel stories. And there was physical proof a legendary sword. That changed everything.
There are monsters and talents so... Did I actually reincarnate into a novel world? Just in its future?
That possibility opened many new questions that scattered like a waterfall. If this was a novel world, what character was I? Was there a main plot? Or was I in a post-conflict timeline? Were there still monsters? Superpowers? And most importantly—did I have a role, or just an extra?
"Why's Sera spacing out? Thinking about what?" Dad pinched my cheek fondly, his fingers gentle but made me jerk.
I shook my head quickly, erasing the serious expression.
Couldn't look too deep in thought that was suspicious.
"Hehe, nothing! Sera really enjoyed the story! Want more!"
Dad laughed and stroked my head gently. "Haha, of course! Later Papa will take you to see the sword, okay? Promise. Papa will take special leave for that."
His promise was sincere, the warmth in his eyes made me believe.
This moment felt very warm Dad patiently telling stories, me leaning on his chest, enjoying the aroma of coffee and his heartbeat. Though my mind was full of theories, part of me truly enjoyed this closeness.
And so, with Dad continuing his story about that hero's achievements until evening truly disappeared behind the window, that night became one of my favorite nights.
Dad's library now felt like a treasure trove I had to dig deeper.
...
After that, I increasingly spent time in the library. Not just to play as I claimed, but also to try to understand more about this world through the books there.
Every time Dad or Mom was busy, I would sneak into the library with my careful little ninja steps. The tall shelves full of books became my destination, though most were still too high for me to reach. I could only touch the lowest shelf, but that was enough.
Though I couldn't read fluently yet—letters still looked like dancing alien symbols I began recognizing some words and images that provided clues.
Those book covers were full of interesting illustrations: some depicting epic battles with magic flashes and blood, some showing maps with strange symbols that might indicate power locations, some displaying portraits of people with clothes different from what I usually saw. They looked like nobles or important military figures.
Truly cool novel illustrations.
I observed everything carefully, flipping pages cautiously to avoid damage, trying to absorb as much visual information as possible even though I couldn't read the text.
...
Time kept passing with stable rhythm, like a calm yet consistent river flow. And I kept growing; taller, stronger, smarter (or at least, better at pretending to be a normal little kid).
I even felt my acting skills were good enough to win an Oscar in the toddler category.
Growing felt like a slow metamorphosis. Each day, I noticed small changes. my legs getting longer, my hands more agile, and my mind sharper, though I had to hide it behind an innocent smile.
At ages two and three, my life was filled with various funny and heartwarming moments moments that made me almost forget I was actually an adult trapped in this small body. Questions about my identity—whether I was still my old self, or had completely become Seraphina occasionally emerged, but I quickly dismissed them.
I needed distraction.
I needed stimulation.
...
One morning, seeing Mom busy in the kitchen with a light blue apron slightly stained with flour, I felt like contributing.
Well, at least that's what I told myself.
Wanting to contribute was just a surface reason. Actually I was bored to death and wanted to do something more challenging than playing with the same toys for the umpteenth time. Those wooden blocks, those dolls, those balls all were no longer interesting.
I needed mental stimulation.
And the kitchen seemed like the perfect place for a small adventure.
"Mooom! Sera help cook! Sera can!" I shouted while pulling Mom's skirt enthusiastically, both my hands pulling hard.
Mom turned around with a spatula in hand, her eyes widened then laughed softly. "Eh, little Sera? Wow, want to help Mama? But... still small, later might get splashed with hot oil, dangerous!"
"No! Sera already biiiig!" I stood on tiptoes, stretched my body as much as possible until almost swaying. Even lifted my chin high, pretending to add cm. "Look! Sera strong! Sera can lift heavy bowl!"
Mom looked at me while biting her lower lip, mixed amusement and worry. Then she sighed long, but her smile was wide. "Oh God, Sera is so stubborn... Alright, here! Just stir this batter okay, slowly! Careful, don't spill!"
She gave me a bright yellow plastic bowl and a worn wooden spoon. Inside was thick white batter probably for cake.
I took the bowl with both hands, face super serious like a soldier receiving a mission.
Hah, finally I could contribute! No longer a family burden! Let me show my skills from my previous life!
I stirred enthusiastically over the top, spun the spoon really hard. The batter spun around, I was so proud!
Five minutes later...
"Mama... why spilled? Huhu..." I looked at the floor full of flour with a guilty face, flour stuck in my hair, cheeks, even my nose.
I looked like a flour ghost.
The kitchen floor was like a snowstorm. Batter scattered everywhere—table, legs, Mom's apron. I was too enthusiastic, my movements too fast until the batter jumped out like it was escaping!
I failed totally.
Mom just smiled widely, wiped flour on my face with her warm finger. "Hihi, it's okay, sweetheart. That batter is naughty. Mama's fault, Mama should've held the bowl."
Her hug was gentle, a balm for my wounded ego, eliminating my guilt into gratitude.
That day I made mistakes but my parents weren't angry making me realize they truly loved me. I trusted my parents more now. They weren't just parents, they were an emotional fortress.
Since then, I increasingly spent time with them learning small things that made life feel more meaningful. Tasting Mom's homemade pie, or helping Dad water flowers.
...
At three and a half years old, I decided to try reading seriously.
Actually I could've learned earlier my cognitive capacity as a reincarnated adult should make this easy. It's just that I was lazy and also afraid of looking too smart. A child who could read too early would attract attention, and attention was the last thing I wanted.
But now, with an age reasonable enough to start recognizing letters and simple words, I felt this was the right time. It wouldn't be too suspicious if a nearly four-year-old child started learning to read.
I sat in Dad's library seriously, back straight like a model student. I opened a thick book with an interesting cover depicting a magnificent castle with tall towering spires and a sky full of stars sparkling like jewels. There was also a dragon silhouette flying in the distance, creating a very epic composition.
I deliberately made my posture as stiff as possible, like a little kid pretending to be an adult. I even added toy glasses I found in my toy box—though the lenses were just clear plastic without any function to add 'intellectual aura.'
The letters in this book... still looked like dancing worms on the paper surface. Their shapes were foreign, not like the Latin alphabet I knew in my previous life. There were strange curves, lines merging in unfamiliar ways, and symbols that made absolutely no sense to me.
This was an alphabet from a completely different world.
But I didn't give up. I stared at it intently, brows furrowed in maximum concentration, as if the power of my gaze could make these letters suddenly make sense and jump into my brain with complete explanations.
I was an adult trapped in a toddler's body. No way I couldn't learn to read, right? My pride as a former educated adult wouldn't let me lose to this alien writing system!
"A... B... C..." I tried remembering the alphabet from my previous life, moving my index finger following letter shapes hopefully. But the writing system here... seemed a bit different? There were some familiar letters or at least similar to what I knew but there were also strange symbols I didn't recognize at all.
There was a letter like 'S' but with an extra tail. One like 'E' but upside down. One that looked like a combination of two letters at once.
This was more complicated than I thought.
I started feeling dizzy.
Suddenly, a familiar voice broke the silence. Again, Dad's coffee aroma crept in, he must be peeking from behind the door. "What's Sera doing? So concentrated! Even wearing glasses!"
"Learning to read, Dad! Sera wants to be smart!" I answered proudly, chest puffed out, lifting the book high.
Dad walked over casually, sipping coffee. He stood behind me, looking at the book contents briefly. "Oh, a novel about becoming strong starting from conquering gods? Good! This is one of Papa's favorite novels." He touched my temple with his finger, as if giving me 'power'.
Then stopped beside me, looking at the book with a strange face mixed confusion and holding back laughter.
With a quick but gentle movement, he took the book from my hands... and flipped it one full rotation. His cheeks trembled holding back laughter, eyes sparkling.
"Sera... the book is upside down!"
I froze stiff.
Oh no. This was so embarrassing. Very embarrassing. Embarrassingly high level.
My face burned hot, like fire blazing on my cheeks. I quickly covered my face with small hands, praying the earth would split and swallow me.
Excellent, Seraphina. You're an adult who can't tell up from down in a book. Bravo. Standing ovation for your stupidity.
Dad laughed softly, stroked my head warmly. His laugh wasn't mocking—just gently amused, like seeing a cute cat. "Hehe, it's okay, Sera. Cute actually! Here, Papa will tell Mama to teach you to read together okay. We'll start tomorrow, deal? Don't be embarrassed, everyone makes mistakes!"
His voice was gently understanding, without any condescending tone at all.
Only warmth.
I nodded slowly from behind hands still covering my face, too embarrassed to look directly at his eyes. "Deal..." I answered in a small voice barely audible.
But in my heart, there was a warm feeling spreading slowly. Though embarrassed, though feeling stupid, I felt protected like an unshakeable fortress.
And somehow, that made me feel... safe.
...
As I lay in bed that night, staring at the dim bedroom ceiling, my mind returned to all the strange events of the day.
Too accurate intuition. The feeling of 'knowing' without explanation. The ability to detect truth and lies in ways that made no sense.
Was this the talent I'd been wanting to know about? Or maybe something else?
I didn't know the answer.
Not yet.
But one thing was certain I would explore this mystery myself, slowly, carefully. No one should suspect. No one should know.
For now, I just needed to grow. For now I just needed to learn. Observe and enjoy youth that wouldn't repeat.