As days passed, I felt increasingly comfortable in my new body. The joy I experienced at being able to move by myself, even if only by crawling, was indescribable. My parents shared that happiness, practically jumping with excitement every time I achieved a new milestone in my development.

The day I pronounced my first word remained etched in my memory. After much practicing in secret, I finally dared to open my mouth and say:

—...Mom.

It was a word I had stopped using in my previous life, and for a moment I wondered if I should feel uncomfortable pronouncing it. However, upon seeing Adelaide's face, I knew it had been worth overcoming that discomfort. I wanted to call her that; I wanted her to hear me.

Adelaide's reaction was even more emotional than when I first crawled. Her smile was radiant, and even Atlas, who was usually more reserved, showed overflowing joy. For me, recognizing my mother was the first step to fully embracing this new life.

Thanks to Adelaide and Atlas's dedication, constantly talking to me, I gradually assimilated the language. Atlas had even decorated the room's wall with a letter mural, perhaps intending for the letters' shape to make a good impression on me, similar to the belief that listening to classical music benefits babies in the womb.

I enormously enjoyed these learning moments. With a mischievous smile, I would point to a letter and ask, —What is... this?

Adelaide, delighted with my curiosity, would hurry to explain. The happiness was mutual: I was glad to learn and Adelaide to teach. —Atlas! Ars is amazing!

—You're right. Ars is... —Atlas would respond, although I still did not understand all the words, I recognized my name.

"Ars," Was this my full name or a nickname? In any case, I liked how it sounded.

I felt immensely fortunate to be able to experience my family's unconditional love from such an early age. I thoroughly enjoyed my new life as a baby, despite the less glamorous aspects like the lack of control over my bladder and intestines. All I had to do was cry for my parents to rush to change my diaper, and although I was embarrassed to admit it, I enjoyed those caresses.

I had no worries. My life was easy and filled with the love my parents showered upon me. However, as soon as I could crawl, I began exploring my surroundings, eager to better understand the type of home I lived in.

One day, taking advantage of a moment when no one was watching me, I ventured down the hallway, rolling over the wide red carpet. From my low perspective, everything seemed enormous and mysterious. Every time I approached a door and someone came out, they quickly returned me to my crib, but that did not discourage my curiosity.

I continued my exploration, passing through a room being cleaned and reaching another door slightly ajar. Upon peering in, I saw a practically empty room with only a chair and a desk. The loneliness emanating from that space intrigued me, but I decided to move forward.

The next stop on my tour revealed that I was on the second floor of the house. Upon reaching the descending stairs, I stopped, aware of the danger they represented for my small body.

Turning toward the adjacent room, I discovered what seemed to be a study. An elegant desk dominated the space, flanked by shelves filled with carefully ordered books. Although the curiosity about those tomes gnawed at me, I knew I could not yet reach them, not even using a small chair.

Well, let's go to the next room, I thought, ready to continue my adventure. Suddenly, the sound of a voice and approaching footsteps put me on alert. Before I could decide what to do, a young woman appeared climbing the stairs. Unlike Adelaide, she did not have pointed ears, which indicated she was human. I supposed she must be a servant.

The young woman, surprised to find me so far from my crib, exclaimed:

—How did you end up in a place like this? It's still too early for you to be crawling.

I remained silent, observing her with curiosity.

—...How the hell did you do it? —the young woman muttered, more to herself than to me, while picking me up to return me to my room.