Lights flickered like drunk fireflies. Voices echoed in the distance, distant and muffled, like time tripping over itself.

The world spun. And spun. And spun. Again.

Another restart. Great.

Hello, world. Life number 1,024.

Someone please turn me off.

“My little Hatrellon is awake?” said a hoarse voice, caught between sobs.

Yep. Awake. Unfortunately.

Also… what a horrible name.

Once my vision cleared, I saw a crooked wooden ceiling above me. Honestly? An upgrade. I usually came back to life abandoned somewhere damp and depressing.

“Why that grumpy face, Hatrellon?” the voice asked, getting closer.

Please stop saying that name. Seriously.

The man appeared beside the makeshift crib, holding a half-empty glass bottle. His hair was a washed-out red, almost like an unripe strawberry—if strawberries could look even more pathetic. His beard was patchy, and his sunken black eyes looked like they’d given up long before I did.

“Oh, you really are a strong boy, huh? Hatrellon Pon Areas? I haven’t heard you cry once!”

And the name keeps getting worse. Incredible.

He picked me up. That’s when I realized I was lying in a bed of straw and ragged cloth.

Also, he reeks of alcohol. Not that it beats the death stench of Vynuc’s castle, but still.

His eyes were damp and hollow, like someone who’d been crying for several nights.

Alcohol does that to people.

He slumped into a worn-out armchair near a wooden table, still holding me. There was a thin book on the table, though I couldn’t read the title in time.

Next to it was a bowl filled with... something. Probably soup.

“Time to feed our little hero-in-training!”

Hero-in-training? Oh no. No, no, no.

I’m not doing that again.

If I had a choice, I’d sell sheep for a living.

He picked up a spoon and brought it closer. Honestly? It didn’t smell bad. It even looked decent.

But then I noticed the steam. The fumes.

That thing was boiling.

“Come on, open wide,” he said, making a weird mouth motion. The spoon kept coming closer.

No! Get that thing away from me! You’re going to kill me!

Damn this baby body! I can’t move enough to show that something’s wrong.

If movement won’t work, maybe words will.

I opened my mouth—

But no sound came out.

“Perfect!”

Wait, wha—

He shoved the spoon right in. My mouth was still open.

For a microsecond, the taste was divine.

Then hell swallowed me whole.

Are you actually trying to kill me?!

I swear there’s smoke coming out of my ears right now. And flailing my tiny hands doesn’t do anything to stop the burn.

“Aww, what’s this? So excited! Want more?”

NO.

Before I could even process, the next spoonful came.

And the next.

Congratulations, old man.

You finally made me cry.