Is someone there?

Why can't I move anymore?

A dark and dazzling fantasy world rose like a metallic curtain pulled by a lever. Jones Harrison, deeply asleep, felt a dreadful fear all over his body, as if someone had locked his five primal senses, including his sixth sense, in an underground prison.

I can't control my body anymore.

Jones Harrison, stunned by the uncontrollable situation, tried to turn his body to find a comfortable position again, but felt none of his limbs or muscles moving, as if he had lost control of his own body. It was very similar to a puppet that had lost its mobility when the strings were cut.

I can still think, reason, and breathe. So, am I in the midst of sleep paralysis? Maybe after encountering the famous dream monster from the world of dreams, I'll wake up suddenly with sweat all over my body?

This wasn't the first time he had experienced this situation. Whenever he slept late, he would sometimes wake up sweaty, tired from sitting in front of a computer all day. After all, the more arduous the work seemed, the harder it was to have good dreams these days.

However, no matter how many hours had passed since he became aware, no monster seemed to emerge in his dark dream. He was even more confused by the continuity of this sudden situation like a perpetual fog, as well as the persistent murmurs that continued to cling to his mind.

Help me.

Please...

Are you our savior?

...

Jones Harrison was going crazy. The invading thoughts were as weak as a whisper, but powerful like an alarm warning of a global catastrophe. Even the seven trumpets of the biblical New Testament wouldn't be as powerful as this.

I feel like I'm confined in a tight space.

Why do I feel like I'm locked in a leather bag?

How can I wake up to go to work if I'm going crazy? Hell! I'd rather take a day off and rest with all these diabolical murmurs!

Jones Harrison felt a cold hand grab him. A slimy limb, a viscous liquid covering his entire body began to fall like an iron curtain, and he soon managed to open his eyes for the first time. All he could see was a family of two surrounding him, along with a slightly older woman operating a machine.

"Whoa. Is it a boy, as father wanted? He would be happy to learn that a boy was born after twelve years of waiting, followed by a miscarriage, and a useless girl," she recited with a sarcastic laugh. She didn't hesitate to use sharp terms to indicate her displeasure.

Who is this boring woman?

He faintly heard the voice of a child, or a girl, in his right ear. Jealousy could be discerned in the sarcastic tone of her soft but sharp voice. Is it my sister?

She held a black umbrella in her left hand, as well as a candle holder composed of three candles that illuminated the dark room. The windows were closed because of the bad weather. The white dress was beautifully tailored to her size, and her corset accentuated her enchanting curves. The heels were raised to show her figure in an elegant way.

"Haha. Lina, don't be jealous. Only a man from our family can inherit our family wealth and carry the torch of our family for the next generation," said the young woman with weak appearances. She was the woman who had carried a child for nine months before giving birth. She cast a very gentle and kind look, full of joy.

His eyes were half blurry because of the light coming from the candles. Calling her his mother must be fair. Taking a few seconds to see what she looked like, he had to admit that his mother was a beautiful woman, describing her character as gentle, charming, with distinct auburn hair and brown eyes. He couldn't help but notice her long eyelashes and her cheerful nose that made him want to cling to her. She just exuded a maternal feeling. Is that why babies were attracted to their mother?"

Lina pouted wickedly with a coarse demeanor, deliberately puffing out her rosy cheeks and avoiding her mother's piercing gaze, despite her mother being gentle and cheerful. "We're not in the Middle Ages anymore, mother... I'm an independent woman, down with our old family traditions, I..."

Wow? Do feminists exist in this world too?

Unlike her mother, her sister didn't seem to have inherited the distinctively soft and compassionate character. She was a bit of a rebel. He would have thought he was hearing a woman's feminist speech against male patriarchy if she had continued speaking continuously without anyone stopping her.

As she was about to continue reciting her feminist convictions, an old man burst into the room. "Is it a boy?! Show him to me quickly, where is he?!" he exclaimed joyfully upon seeing the baby wrapped in a swaddle. Willfully ignoring his daughter sitting on a chair.

Jones turned his face and glanced to the right, barely making out the person he thought was his father with the silly smile and tearful eyes with which he looked at him. Immediately, he said, "Haha, you really look like your father, don't you? Can you call me daddy, can you say daddy?" Jones glanced around to see his displeased sister, his mother, and the nurse looking away. "Darling, be gentle with our baby. He's just been born..." his mother murmured wearily. The attending physician quickly intervened to stabilize his physical condition and prevent potential complications later on.

However, his father seemed not to hear his wife's words. He was rather focused on the presence of the baby in front of him. "Who would have thought that our family would have an additional hope after so many years of waiting? If you had been born a few years later, I would have thought our family was finished." He cried tears of joy, as well as thanksgiving to God. "Thank you, God... I was deeply disappointed by the birth of my daughter, but with my second child, all the complications have disappeared from my mind!"

Jones felt a repugnant feeling emanating from his father. Was it just my intuition or my feeling?

Lina clicked her teeth and left the room. "If you just came to check on my brother's condition, then my presence would be just harmful!"

He gently lifted the fragile body of the baby into the air. As if he held in his hands a precious treasure. "You are my gift from heaven! Thanks to you, a new generation can still survive amidst the changing times..." Robert put on a serious expression. "I will name you Ranold Gate!"

At the same time, he began to regain a little more control over his body. Each time the man joyfully turned his body while holding it in the air, his urge to vomit surged radically like a pipe that had been blocked for years, silently waiting for a breach to open.

You asked for it, old man...

That'll teach you to kiss someone and shake them in the air while I'm still a baby!

Didn't your parents ever teach you never to swing a newborn's body radically?

His yellowish vomit fell on his father's face, who was surprised by the foul odor, as well as the materials composing the viscous liquid. "Hm. Doctor, I leave you to take care of my child." His father had just deposited his body in the arms of the doctor and soon left the room hastily.

***

A few years later.

He was a young infant who had served for the greater good. Rather than his mother, it was the family-appointed female doctor who took care of him, nourishing him daily with her breast milk. At first, Ranold, who had the mentality of a twenty-year-old man, was very confused and suppressed his desire to drink a woman's milk. However, after recognizing that his body was weakening, he had no choice but to be overcome by hunger.

"That's cute. You finally accepted my breast milk," she laughed, letting the infant suckle her breast.

I didn't accept because I was a pervert. Not at all.

Anyway, during the first two years, on the recommendation of his father, Robert Gate, he had opened from a young age an educational book about the history of this world. At first, this world was more backward than his old world. He even suspected that he had landed in the past, but some parts of the story were inconsistent due to various external beings shattering his doubts into a thousand pieces.

The culture of this world was close to the Victorian era, the clothing, the culture were similar to those of the Anglo-Saxons at the end of the 19th century. Their way of life was also simple and flamboyant compared to the usual customs known to inhabitants of the modern era. Each person often carried a brass revolver.

A pistol to ensure their safety, even if it was worn only by trustworthy individuals or family guards to secure the garden and the gate limiting the outer town of the mansion. Only his sister refused to wear one, saying she was not a murderer or something like a repulsive man.

"A sister always so selfish," he sighed.

After acquiring enough evidence, he had formed an opinion. He had fallen into a parallel world, similar to that of his old world, in an era gone by for a century. However, he never would have believed he could live a second time after a car accident, and live in a wealthy family.

"I want to read another book," he asked, pointing to a stack of books piled on the desk made by the best craftsmen in the country, as well as the material of the furniture which was made of noble and high-quality exotic wood that only certain people in England could afford.

A servant nodded.

He had a desk personally assigned to his name, but as the furniture was too high for a child like him, he preferred to read on his bed. The bed was made of solid wood, with a mattress filled with wool, the sheets and bedding were made of linen, offering a soft and comfortable touch worthy of a man like him. The top of the bed was adorned with complex embroidery and lace, reflecting the richly decorated sophistication of the Victorian era.

Now that he had a second chance at life, he wanted to calmly enjoy his current life. However, something caught his attention. A translucent blue window appeared in front of his face, even though he was awake.

What is this?

Is it another hallucination?

An illusion?

[Program startup...]

[System initialization]

[Hello host]

It was at that moment that his eyes widened for the first time since his reincarnation.

"I've been waiting for you, system!" he exclaimed weakly.