Vol. 1 Chapter 01: The baby with too much spare time

Are you sleeping well?

Are you eating your vegetables?

Are you exercising?

Yes. I have been eating my vegetables.

On that day, I woke up to a bright light outside my window glaring into my eyes.

I was planning to pull an all-nighter; guess I must have fallen asleep. 

The deadline is the day after tomorrow. I need to pay for additional printing, I thought. As I tried to get up, I realized that I couldn’t move my body.

Oh, no. What happened? 

Is it because of my lack of sleep? 

Or am I getting sick?

Let’s calm down. 

I tried to touch my forehead to check if I had a fever.

What happened to my hand?

It’s tiny.

Squishy.

What is this? Kewpie?

Then I noticed.

The ceiling was high, the room was over-decorated, fairy-like paintings on the nearby walls and the place I was sleeping was covered in fluttering frills.

This is not my room. What the hell is going on here?

I tried to get up again but was still unable to do so and my heart started racing.

And normally, adults don’t cry.

They might get teary-eyed, but they don’t cry. Crying is allowed until you reach elementary school.

But I did cry.

I cried before I could stop it, almost like a conditioned reflex. I just couldn’t stop it.

“Now, now, Diadora-sama. How can I help you?”

A young girl with strikingly large blue eyes appeared in my vision.

She’s a fair-skinned girl.

I was used to living in a small world where I knew no foreigners, so it was a surprise to one so close to me.

It was so surprising that I forgot to cry.

“I’m here. Did you have a scary dream?”

Oh, this is what I do when I have to deal with babies. I remember that from dealing with my friend’s and older sister’s kids so many times.

You know, the sweet voice you unconsciously make when talking to a baby or a pet.

These squishy hands are also like a baby’s hands.

Open and close. Open and close.

Huh, this is my hand.

Hahahaha. 

I have no idea what to think anymore, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Waaaa, she’s laughing, looking at my face. How cute!”

“Hey, Dana. Don’t talk too loud, you’ll scare the little miss.”

“But Cynthia, look at how cute she is!”

There was another one. This time it’s a red-haired girl with an alluring look.

They are both so cute, aren’t they?

If they called me little miss, then they must be a maid, right? They’re dressed like one.

Maid is pretty high level. But now is not the time pondering about it. I don’t know why I’m in this weird situation. 

What time is it, where am I but more importantly, who am I?

I was an ordinary office worker who worked as a logistics operator for a manufacturer. 

There was a time when I felt a little ambitious, so I took a programming class but dropped it because the time I spent on my hobby became more important. 

I’ve been publishing thin doujinshi.

It’s not that I was a pervert. Please don’t think all female otakus are perverts. But I was okay with being a pervert. There may have been a time when I dipped my legs in that pool. I guess you could say that I’ve been somewhat of a pervert. For half of my life.

During my school days, I had plenty of time to spare. But once I entered the workforce, the time I could spend on my hobbies was drastically reduced. And there’s no way I could sleep before a deadline. Being up all night with the help of energy drinks was normal for me. 

Rather than going out, I preferred to stay home and surf the net. For me, going out with friends was treated as an event. When I had a day off, I usually spent it at home, alone. 

At work, I was sitting in a chair all the time. When I arrived home, I spent the remaining time sitting in a chair until I went to bed. It’s different when it’s my day off because I could spend all day sitting in front of the computer.　

Exercise? I thought I was fine because I was walking up and down the stairs on the way to work. 

And for some reason I remember getting a blood clot in a vessel in my brain. 

My memory is a little fuzzy on that part I could vaguely remember hearing someone talking about it. 

Something about an economic syndrome? Although I knew that I shouldn’t sit in one position for long, time flies when you’re preoccupied. There were days when I didn’t leave my seat unless nature called. 

And I’m still in my thirties. I feel bad for my parents. 

I had already asked my sister to get rid of my computer, but I’d be feeling even worse if she read what was on it. Now that I’m dead, there’s no way to apologize. 

Now, I have been reincarnated as a little miss from a wealthy family.

Seriously, I feel bad.

If it were possible, I would like to appear in her dream to apologize and say thank you.

Or maybe I could be my niece’s guardian angel and watch over her as she grew up.

The situation didn’t change at all, even after agonizing over it for two days.

That means this is not a dream but reality and I have to live in this world whether I like it or not.

The only thing I can do is to accept it. 

This time around I want to live a decent life, outlive my parents and hopefully, see my grandchildren!

Five days have passed since I reincarnated.

I’ve learned many things during this time. 

On my first evening, I met my family for the first time. 

I thought the maids were cute, but when I saw how beautiful my family is, you’ll think the maids were decent. 

But I admit they’re cute, though. 

While she was cute enough to fit into an idol group easily, my mother was so beautiful that she would probably be in the top ten of the world’s most beautiful women.

She had blonde hair that reflected the light and her eyes were emerald green. When I stared at them, I feel like I’m being dragged into a bottomless pit. And not in a creepy way, okay? Her green eyes were so deep and beautiful that you couldn’t help but admire them. 

Her long golden eyelashes framed her double eyelid almond-shaped eyes and her nose was high. She didn’t look like someone who had birthed three kids. Also, her lips were full. 

My father also was pretty attractive. If he were to be mixed in with Scandinavian models’ photos that occasionally appear on social media, no one would bat an eye. He’s that attractive. He looks like he could be the talk of the town. 

His almost silvery-gold hair is a little long and the way he brushed his bangs up was so sexy.

I know he’s my father, but my brain hasn’t caught up to that information yet, so when he picked me up, I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. 

I’m a baby.

And my brothers are angels. 

You can’t convince me otherwise.

My oldest brother Kris is five years old and has honey-blond hair and emerald green eyes, just like our mother. I suppose you could call him a translucent beauty. Either I’m crazy or my eyes look like they have a natural focus.

“Wow, she’s cute. I can’t wait until we start playing together.”   

Look at how cute he is! He’s so small.

My second older brother, Alan, is only two years old but his body is bigger with auburn hair and father’s gray eyes. 

They seemed to be happy to become big brothers and would occasionally show up to talk to me or caress my hands or cheek.

And what surprised me was their clothes. Is this medieval Europe?

What’s with the museum-quality clothes?

I could tell that it cost a lot of money. They were made of lustrous fabric and was adorned with detailed embroidery.

But it looked so stuffy and hard to move around in. Am I going to have to wear that in the future?

Let’s not do that, it’s bad for my body. I want to live longer this time.

In medieval times, life expectancy should be much shorter than in modern times.

Dammit, why did I have to reincarnate in the past? Why not the future? Let me travel to space dammit. Let me live over a hundred years!

Huh? But those aren’t candles being used for lighting, are they? I don’t think they use animal oil either. Not sure, but there’s no place to put the oil.

My father’s glass of alcohol had clear ice in it. Does that mean there’s a freezer? Or did he get in from an ice room?

There were so many things that I didn’t understand, so whenever I was around people, I tried to listen to their conversations and gather information.

At first, I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I slowly started to memorize their vocabulary and when they showed me a picture book, I looked at the words attentively. 

As a baby, I have a lot of free time. There’s nothing to do but eat and sleep.

It was like being left on a bed with restraints. Honestly, it’s a pain. Thus, I’ve had a lot of time to learn the language. 

Based on the information I gathered, it seems that I’m in a place called the Azalea Empire. From the name, I can guess it’s not a democratic place. It’s ruled by an emperor. 

Because of anime and video games’ exposure, I have an image the Empire as a villain.

My family was the Bellisario Frontier’s Count.

My name is Diadora Abel von Bellisario. 

What’s a frontier count you ask? In terms of social status, how should I describe it? Since it’s called a frontier, does it mean the territory is located in the wilderness?

Plus, this place isn’t exactly similar to Medieval Europe back on earth because everyone here uses magic. 

Technically, the spirits are the ones who use magic. Almost everyone and the nobles walk around with a contracted spirit with them all the time. 

When I first saw the spirits, I had mistaken them for cotton dust and fireflies. They were small, round, unidentifiable objects floating around everyone’s shoulders. 

Even though it’s a contracted spirit, I had no idea what it really does. 

Before I knew it, there was a light blue light floating by my side as well. I wonder when I made a contract. 

The floating light seems to be a water spirit. 

It must be this guy’s fault that I wet the bed.  

I hate to do it this way, but it would be weird if a baby born less than six months ago wanted to go to the bathroom, so this is all I could do.

Being unable to move is tough, but bed-wetting is a pain. I want to grow up as soon as possible. 

“Look at this. Little miss already has a spirit!”

“Woah, as expected of our little miss. She’s going to be a powerful girl.”

“I look forward to it.”

Magic!

I knew that when you run out of MP, the amount increases. I read about it so much on the internet. 

It is like when our muscles increase when we use our limbs and our strength increases when we exercise, right?

So, why don’t we increase it? It’s not like I’m going to fight or want to. Besides, there’s nothing else to do. If I exhaust myself, I’ll pass out so I can sleep. Babies are supposed to sleep, right?

Later I realized that that method is not good for the body. I wouldn’t live long but at that time I could feel my magic power increasing. It’s hard to stop something you enjoy.

Similarly, some people can’t quit machine training because they enjoy it when they gain muscle that way. 

The other thing I did to pass the time was to exercise. 

As I was laid in a ‘crib’, which was just a fence around my bed to stop me from falling out. 

I would kick the surrounding fence. Over and over again. 

“My, were you sleeping down there? I’m sorry. Your foot must have hit the fence.”

When Dana heard the rattling noise, she swooped in and moved me to the middle of the bed.

I’m not going to lose, though.

I simply wiggled my body around and moved over slowly, when I reached the fence, I used that as a foothold to rotate. It takes a lot of time but right now I have time to kill. Sometimes I get tired and fall asleep in the middle, but sleep is my priority. I only kick the fence when I can without straining myself.

“Again, miss?”

“Did she kick the fence again?”

“I wonder if the bed is too small. But she seems so happy kickin it.”

“She’s in a good mood. Maybe she’s playing?”

Mhm. I’ve learned that in order to do what I wanted to do I have to communicate my will properly.  

When I kick the fence, it seems like I’m having fun. I kicked while moving my hands and squealing. I just kicked and kicked.

Sometimes I listen to conversations to gather information, so when someone is talking beside me, I’ll be in a good mood and even give a little nod to show that I’m listening. I will speak the words I learn even when I say it in gibberish. I speak even when I don’t know what I’m saying. 

If they read a book to me, I’ll be a happy baby.

When this happens, I ask them to show me the pages. If they pointed to what they’re reading, I’ll be in a good mood. I’d listen to their stories with a smile on my face.

It was pretty easy to babysit me, all they had to do was read me a book.

Whenever I used magic, I always give a little to the spirits first.

Spirits feed on the human’s magical power.

My spirit has been sucking my magic and staying there without my permission.

They are like mosquitoes or leeches, but they sucked different things.

People with strong magic are said to have strong spirits.

My spirit seems to have gotten a little bigger and somehow the red light has become brighter.

It was either leeching on me or following and feeding on me because I often release my magic?

Which makes me one hell of a loud baby.

I didn’t cry, okay? But when you learn how to speak, there’s no need to cry.

Even if I couldn’t speak, I tried to communicate with the tone of my voice. I was a loud baby, but that’s because of how I amuse myself.

Soon, they became words. Then a string of words.

Although I haven’t fully memorized all the nouns, particles, and adjectives, I could communicate pretty well.

The maids would often talk to me and help me learn more words.

They read me many books, which meant that I learned a lot.

It’s amazing how fast babies learn.

These days when I release my magic, the magic tools start to move. The magic toy that was hanging above my head was rotated whenever my magic was released. Naturally, I had to feed them to the spirits, too.

Amidst the music played by the toys, the light blue and red spirits swayed as if they were dancing. I kicked the fence, rattling my hands and babbling words together.

What kind of situation is this? It’s like a horror story. They’re going to think I’ve got possessed, aren’t they? I thought so.

But since I’m a young lady, there’s always someone around.

This is why I don’t talk while looking at the empty ceiling. I would face the maids and talk in an expressive manner and flail my limbs happily and joyfully. 

I listened to the maids’ words and responded in my babble, nothing that would be considered disruptive, though.

I was a healthy baby and rolled over early, it wasn’t long before I was lifted out of bed.

This made me happy. My world expanded just a little.

Now they can hold me and walk me around the garden.

Once they put me down on the floor, I was all set.

By the end of the day, I was crawling. And quickly, too. It’s nice to be able to move!

The room was big enough for me to get many exercises. When the friction scraped my knees, I magically healed myself and crawled again. I was so excited that I tired myself out to sleep.

The kicking helped develop some muscle faster than babies usually do, so crawling was easy for me.

After three days of crawling, I tried to stand while holding on to the railing. And immediately succeeded.

Then I spent the rest of the day standing, sitting, and rolling around. It built my muscles even more. By the time I was over six months old, I was already walking.

The first night I learned to walk, I cried by myself. I was so happy.

By the age of one, I could hold a conversation even though I had a lisp and the words were not in the correct order. I also learned that I could walk around the house on my own if someone held my hand or was nearby.

I was developing too fast. It was not normal.

But I couldn’t stand holding myself back.

And that’s where the problem starts. 

“She’s only one-year-old and she can already talk. Little miss might be a genius!”

“Ah, my angel is not only cute but talented!”

“Nobody at her age can walk so well.”

“That’s true. Kris and Alan didn’t start walking this soon either.”

“And neither did they have two spirits. Diadora-sama is an exceptional young lady.”

“Perhaps I’ll speak to His Majesty in private at the next tea party.”

“The first prince is the same age as Kris, he’ll be turning six this year. And the second prince is two years old, I believe.”

Oh, no. Was our status high enough to be able to marry into the imperial family?

It’s impossible to marry into the imperial family.

The women were required to learn etiquette and customs, and it was the women from the imperial family who would be the face of the social scene. Tea ceremonies and soirées are not just for entertainment. Politicians in modern Japan also go to ryotei restaurants. That’s how history is made.

I can’t. I don’t want to make history. Not only that, but I will definitely make a faux pas or something.

Enduring the pressure of standing in front of a crowd, reading between the lines while having a normal conversation.

That does sound like torture, doesn’t it?　

I won’t last long.

I have to think of a plan.

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