With skin white as silk, bright golden hair, and blue eyes clear as the sky, I’m quite the cute baby if I say so myself.
Shifting my gaze as I was thinking so, I met my own gaze.
It was like it was staring right at me, I could feel clear intent.

Clank…… the chains rang.

I was shocked by the sudden noise, but it looks like the child was just trying to reach for me with its little arms.
But either due to the chains’ weight or it’s short length, the tiny arms are once again drawn back to the bed.

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Right now, I — or should I say, my soul? — am out of my body.
In that case, there’s no way that my body is conscious at all.
And yet, why is it gazing so intently at me?
Then I realized.
I just rejected the possibility of being a ghost, but maybe I am some sort of thing possessing or inhabiting this child.

Perhaps I might be some sort of split personality even.
If that’s the case, then this body isn’t mine, it’s this child’s.
It’s not a second life, not some sort of bonus stage, but the beginning of this child’s only life.
And yet, why is this child getting this kind of treatment.

It’s unthinkable that this child committed some kind of crime.
At this age, it’s not like this child can do so.
And even if something did happen, it’s the parent’s job to take responsibility.
The more I think about it, the more anger just boils in me.
If it was just me, I would’ve accepted this as my fate, but if this child really has a separate soul, this situation is absolutely unforgivable.

However, my seething rage was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming from outside the prison cell.

The footsteps slowly draw closer to our cell.
And then, it gradually grew louder and suddenly stopped upon reaching the front of this cell.
The one who stood there was a man draped in luxurious clothes, the very image of nobility.
He was a tall looking man with a prominent nose and chiseled features.
His combed long hair was brown in color, and his eyes were blue.
And as he is clearly not Japanese, it’s hard for me to gauge his age, but I’d say he’s about 30-40 years of age.

He has the figure of a calm and mature adult and if not for the current situation, I’d probably admire his look.
In fact, the situation right now, as well as the look on his face, is the worst it can be.
The man entered the cell with some sort of flask, displaying a vulgar smile that’s in contrast with his orderly features.

Looking at him and the baby side by side, I can see that they have the same eyes, making it clear that this man may be the child’s father.
However, even if it’s true, I just can’t feel relieved.
Rather, I feel less relief and more danger.

The man approached the baby and whispered something.
But since it wasn’t anything Japanese, I couldn’t understand what he just said.

After that, he flashed a wide grin, placed the flask on the bed and took the baby’s right arm.
His grasp on the wrist felt extremely unpleasant.
As I thought, our senses are linked.
In the first place, what did he even come here for? Thinking so, I closely observe the man and notice something shiny in his right hand.
The next instant, a sharp pain ran through my right arm.

I reflexively looked at my own right arm, but all I see are the stone floors and walls; my right arm doesn’t even exist.
Rather, I don’t even have a body — perhaps because I’m just a soul now.
And yet, the burning pain won’t disappear.

I see, so that’s how it is.
Bearing the pain, I shift my gaze to the baby’s arm and it stained in bright red.
In my sight, I see a beautifully pure flow of red ceaselessly drip onto the stone-cold prison floor.
That same red gradually stains my own mind with its color.
I don’t think I can keep thinking anymore.

The next thing I felt, was even more pain and the disgusting feeling of something injected into my body.
Moving my gaze, I see that the man poured the contents of the flask into the baby’s wound.
That something I felt going inside me probably was the thing in the flask.
And though I want to stop him, the fact that I can do nothing but scowl at him only frustrates me.

As the flask ran out of its fluid, the man puts his hand on the wound and whispers something.
Then, a faint light started leaking from the man’s hand.
Before I even noticed, the wound was suddenly healed.
Seeing that the baby never cried during the whole operation, the man audibly rejoiced and left the cell in a still excited state.

Left behind, the baby silently began falling asleep; however, I couldn’t get my mind off what happened just now.
From then on, I started thinking of ways I could somehow protect this child.

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