The warmth I felt persisted, and eventually began to suffocate her, a baby’s cry was heard before I felt the light that surrounded me melt away.

Wait…

Memories rush in–hazy and disjointed like fragments. My first life, my death, the in-between–the stranger I promised to see again.

And now clarity.

Oh Gods.

I’m a baby.

Internally I screamed but in the body of a baby, all I could manage was a pathetic wail. Was that person serious? I half-expected my second life to return to a certain point, like those silly romance fantasy novels I read while confined in the estate, not to infancy!

“Do babies tend to be this tiny?”

“My lady, most children look like this…just not the young masters.”

I recognized the second elderly man speaking somewhat, maybe a part of her mansion’s staff–but I don’t think I could ever forget the first.

The Duchess of the empire’s northern territories, Adrienne de Beaumont. The girl who began as the young wife of a count who died in her twenties, who served in battle against other countries and those otherworldly. She was in her thirtieth year when she was given the title of la Duchesse de Beaumont.

It was hard to focus my eyes at first but then I saw her, the duchess, but much younger. Her ebony hair had not yet before grey–her brown eyes and pale skin didn’t show any immediate sign of aging. She carried me–no, much held me in one steady hand like a dagger in a sheath, prepared to use me to attack an enemy.

“...is that a baby?”

“I think it’s a baby.”

Gossiping about the woman of the house so openly–even before I married my last I knew not to do that–it’s like shoving your foot in your mouth intentionally.

“Did the Duchess steal it?”…what? What are you calling an IT–

“Silence–Madame, I apologize on their behalf. They’re new hires,” The butler's voice was loud and abrupt. Although my head is heavy I turn to see his face. Ah, I remember him, although he’s a lot younger, with long ginger hair and grey eyes. After he speaks, he coughs before pushing up his glasses, I quickly focus on the chains dangling from the Duchess’s neck when he stares at me.

GODS! Ok, that was a bit scary. He’s good-looking but his face is very fierce.

 I do my best to thank him, although I feel bad I can’t remember his name.

“Ooo!” Good job Mister!

With things a bit quieter, the Duchess turns to him and says, “Julian, summon my wife from the library and Phillipe from the training grounds, and tell them to meet me in the sitting room, immediately.”

Ah, Yves, that’s his name. But something was odd. In my previous life, the Duchess was widowed at a young age, and the son she had did not survive infancy and followed his father not too long after. I didn’t remember her having a wife and I wondered who this Julian person was–this was certainly odd.

Well, in the beginning, my second life has strayed from what it was before since I originally met the Duchess when I first arrived at the capital, where she moved to after the war, floating between there and the duchy. That alone told me it would not be the same.

The rest of the duchy was a blur of tall ceilings and polished stone floors. At the moment, being held like a sack of coins felt relaxing, as if swinging at a nauseous pace was comfortable. Eventually, we reached a sunlit room, where a young woman was, lying on a chaise lazily like a haughty Persian cat. She wore a white silk gown that drew attention to her large chest. Her skin was brown and rich, her eyes were hazel, and the other was blue. Her silver hair fell in curls down her shoulders as she absently checked her nails.

Upon hearing the door open, she jumps up, the biggest smile on her face. She looks like a doll.

She was beautiful, but who was she?

“Darling!”

“UH?” DARLING?

Hearing me squeal, admittedly a bit too loudly, her large eyes and curled lashes blink rapidly. With her voice smooth like venom she says, “Adrienne, explain.”