‘Fuck, this felt like something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.’

The protagonist, swearing inwardly, was a small human with jet-black hair and black eyes.

He was cradled in the wet nurse’s arms, unable to resist, sucking on the feeding bottle with all his strength.

“Ay~ our young master. How strong you are~”

The wet nurse’s soft voice stroked the small hand that gripped the bottle tightly.

‘What the hell is this even.’

A few days must have passed. He had finally realized with certainty that something was badly, badly wrong.

He couldn’t move even a single finger as he wanted.

Everything before his eyes was only black and white, and even that was hard to make out.

His stomach was so often hungry that irritation flared up every time he felt it.

And yet he couldn’t satisfy that hunger with his own hands.

Everything was nothing but annoyance.

‘Damn those angel bastards! They couldn’t do one job properly and left my memories as they were?’

Swearing like crazy inside, he finished with the bottle; the wet nurse lifted him and patted his back.

“Burp—”

Startled by the involuntary, satisfying burp that escaped him for a moment.

“Ay~ our young master, what a fine burp you have~”

The wet nurse praised everything without fail.

Even if he dropped a massive load of shit, she would gush, “Oh my, what a good poop!” and lavish praise.

The most humiliating part was that, no matter how she lifted and cleaned his bottom, he had no way to stop it.

He hated the small, helpless version of himself that couldn’t resist at all; he wanted to bite his tongue and just die, but he had no teeth, so he couldn’t even do that.

“Damn, damn, damn!”

Worse still, his body was overwhelmingly obedient to instinct—when he was hungry, tears brimmed in his eyes from the humiliation. He hadn’t sobbed to protect his last pride, but he couldn’t stop the tears from forming.

And after eating, sleep swept over him like clockwork. He couldn’t shake the suspicion that something had been done to the milk he was fed every day.

Bowel movements were likewise uncontrollable. When he felt the urge without time to hold it, he simply clamped his buttocks and pushed it out.

Through those shameful days, every time he was awake he cursed the angels in his head and dragged every god’s name he knew into his swearing, but nothing changed.

He spent all day trying to figure out how to escape this situation, and yet he fell asleep again after eating—enough to drive him mad.

‘If I… just become a god… no, if only I had teeth…’

He cursed as usual and fell asleep.

“Welcome back?”

“Yeah. He seemed to be doing fine.”

Kirita, who had just returned after watching Ranos’s reincarnation, folded his great wings once and waved his hand to reassure Flan.

“Phew, that potion would certainly take effect.”

“Good to hear.”

Kirita plopped into a seat. He had gone to check, and had seen him happily drinking milk and burping vigorously.

“Yeah. He should do well.”

They had picked the place carefully.

The couple had desperately wanted a child and had gentle dispositions.

Although the Rodrigo count’s house had declined, they still had enough assets to raise a child well, so the boy shouldn’t grow up in hardship.

They could have placed him with a prince or noble household, but they hadn’t bothered.

After five thousand years of having everything they wanted, a little lack wouldn’t hurt, he had thought.

They had been reborn into a house that wouldn’t overly exhaust them—precisely because Ranos hated being too tired.

But their judgment had been severely off.

The child simply couldn’t speak yet…

Now he could flip over without trouble.

All he had to do was stand up…! But why were his legs so weak that they refused to support him?

“Oh my, oh my, young master! You’ll walk soon!”

Watching the wet nurse shaking a rattle before his face with applause, his already feeble legs lost all strength.

‘Damn. That damn rattle keeps jingling all the time.’

Lying exhausted on the floor, his gums itched again.

He put a toy in his mouth, and the wet nurse immediately snatched it away.

“Young master! That’s a teether. Teether!”

‘…If only I had teeth, I’d bite my tongue right off and be done with it!’

If only he could use the two front teeth that would come in first.

“Ugh!!!”

A woman bolted upright, panting, sweat cooling on her skin.

The damp pillowcase explained how urgent her dream had been.

“Th-this is…”

A blazing planet and people in panic.

A black-haired man standing boldly among them made his hand shine, and the sky reddened; meteors began to fall.

No—they started pouring down.

Huge meteors that would have leveled the surroundings covered the sky in black; people froze in place as if hypnotized.

Those who accepted their fate stopped fleeing and sank to the ground, begging each of their gods for mercy.

It was a prophecy—something that might happen at any time but would happen eventually.

Hellos Arnet, court seer and diviner, wore a deep shadow on his face.

“Your Majesty, we must go to the throne!!!”

Hellos leapt up and burst through the door; a startled soldier followed him.

Though it was still dark, going to the king at this hour meant urgent business.

“Your Majesty. Hellos Arnet urgently requests an audience.”

The steward’s call roused Grad Luclarier, Emperor of the Arant Empire. A flash of annoyance crossed his face, but he composed himself.

“Send him in.”

Rising, the emperor in his night robe crossed to the audience chamber.

“What is it at this hour?”

“Emperor, I dreamed a prophetic vision.”

Grad’s irritation faded at Hellos’s trembling voice.

“Speak.”

As Hellos spoke, Grad’s expression changed with every sentence.

Confusion and surprise ebbed away and his gaze grew cold.

“…Everything will be destroyed.”

“No, that can’t be. That’s unacceptable.”

Muttering, the emperor sprung from his seat.

“How—how did I gain this throne!!! Send word to the Mage Tower; summon Master Alberto Nimrod at once!!!”

“Did you hear that?”

Laila’s eyes widened as she asked. Ailin, the wet nurse, tilted her head and picked up Lucas.

Ranos’s new name was Lucas Rodrigo.

He was the precious young master of the declining Rodrigo count’s house.

He chewed on a pacifier in his mouth, gnawing to relieve his itchy gums.

“They’re recruiting mages on a large scale at the palace. They’re setting up some sort of magic academy.”

“An academy?”

“Yeah. Like the sword academy, but a magic academy or something.”

Ailin, patting Lucas’s back as she paced about, kissed his forehead with a peck.

“Why are they suddenly creating an academy?”

“Rumor has it a prophecy was issued.”

“Prophecy?”

Ailin laid Lucas in the cradle for a moment, shook the bottle, and dripped a little milk onto the back of her hand to test the temperature.

“Yes. They say an incredible prophecy came down. Something about the imperial palace being turned into rubble.”

“Hmph. I’d love that. I hope the prophecy turns out true.”

Lifting Lucas back into her arms, Ailin carefully brought the bottle to his lips.

“That’s right. To think how our Count ended up all the way out here……”

“Enough. It’s already in the past. And now we have such a lovely young master—everything will turn out well.”

“Hehe, I suppose so. Oh my, how could he already be so handsome!”

Laila smiled as she lightly touched Lucas’s cheek.

Meanwhile, Lucas sucked furiously on the bottle, his insides burning black with frustration.

‘Damn it, when do these teeth come in…!’

At last, he stood up!

Nothing had happened—Ranos had simply managed to stand on his own two feet!

In all his five thousand years as a dragon, few things he had accomplished felt as rewarding as this, and his chest brimmed with joy.

But the joy was fleeting. His legs gave out again under the fuss people made around him.

“Oh my! Young master! You already stood up on your own!”

The wet nurse’s emotional voice filled the room.

‘If I ever spoke, she’d probably faint dead away.’

The baby let out a tiny sigh and furrowed his face, but the wet nurse came rushing over, lifting his bottom to sniff.

“Hm? You didn’t soil yourself……”

The little young master couldn’t even scowl freely—he truly was just a baby.

Now his legs had grown strong enough to support him a bit.

Leaning on the wall or furniture, he could manage a few steps. Even that much was remarkable progress.

But with every wobbly step came the unbearable cheers of those around him.

“My dear, I think our son will grow up to be as great a swordsman as you.”

“Haha, indeed. So lively already.”

Hearing endless laughter and praise all day long, he wanted nothing more than to put every last one of them to sleep with a Sleep spell. But a baby who could only babble couldn’t possibly cast magic.

He scoured his body to check for mana, just in case—but not a trace of it could be found.

‘Damn that Supreme God. When I climb up there, I’ll kill you all!’

He muttered the curse all day in his head, but with no way to say it aloud, frustration only piled up.

At last, he truly began to walk.

He could even speak a few words now, though difficult pronunciations were still beyond him.

But since those people reacted so exaggeratedly even when he merely said “Mama,” he refused to give them the satisfaction and kept his lips shut.

Walking, at least, he pushed himself to master quickly—he needed to train his body. But speech? He had no reason to give those bothersome humans another excuse to fuss.

“When do you think young master will speak?”

“Soon. Boys are often a bit late with speech, but before long he’ll be talking fluently.”

At Laila’s worried question, Ailin answered warmly with a smile that never left her face.

‘I won’t. I already decided the first words I speak will be a curse. Arrogant humans.’

Unaware of his thoughts, Lucas kept steadily strengthening his legs, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh my! He’s smiling!”

‘Damn.’

“I’m starting to get worried, my dear.”

“So am I……”

Lucas Rodrigo, their precious son, hadn’t spoken in over a year.

After the first small words like “Mama,” he hadn’t said anything beyond the occasional sigh or groan.

He walked, he ate—he did everything well. But not a single word more, and it tormented his parents endlessly.

He, however, wore a perfectly calm expression.

‘Why should I bother with talking? It’s just a hassle.’

But their faces grew ever more serious.

“Should we call for a physician?”

“But he isn’t ill.”

“Then someone from the temple……”

“The temple, you say……”

Yes, the temple could at least tell them whether their son was mute—or a fool.

But the cost of a diagnosis by the temple priests would not be small.

They both knew how much the haughty priests demanded as offerings.

“…Very well. Let us summon a priest.”

Exiled to the fringes with nothing left but their count’s title, all they owned was a small estate and the few servants and maids who had remained loyal.

They had been barely keeping afloat by selling off the last of their valuables. This was a heavy decision indeed.

Lucas, overhearing enough to piece together the situation, felt a pang of discomfort.

‘Should I just say something?’

No matter how much he hated this reality, he didn’t want the Rodrigo family’s already weak finances to crumble further.

‘If they go poor, my life will be inconvenient.’

His black eyes wavered for a moment, as though lost.

‘Yes, poverty is no good at all.’

With resolve, the baby’s lips drew into a thin line.

‘Damn it!’

As his father, Count Sivier Rodrigo, turned to leave the room, Lucas stared at his back and finally opened his mouth.

“Fa… Father!”

At his call, Sivier froze mid-step, and his wife Blaine’s eyes filled with tears.

“Sob… Lucas!!!”

Lucas almost let a curse slip from his lips at their reaction, but barely held it back.

‘Damn it… everything’s gone to shit.’

Thus, the quiet, swift life he had hoped for collapsed entirely.

(End of Chapter)