“Huh?” That voice seemed eerily familiar. Suddenly, I found myself standing in a vast room, reminiscent of a throne room, yet devoid of a throne.
“Am- am I alive?” I whispered, my voice tinged with confusion and disorientation. The sensation of a noose around my neck lingered. Reaching for my neck, I found nothing there, and the ghostly feeling dissipated as soon as I realized there was nothing to touch. There was no pain, only a swirling fog of confusion and disorientation.
Behind me, someone cleared their throat. I whirled around, inhaling sharply as I came face-to-face with someone I never expected to see again.
“Mom!” I exclaimed, moving to embrace her.
However, the expression on my mother’s face halted me in my tracks. She looked at me as if she couldn’t recognize who I was, and the disappointment etched in her gaze was so profound that my lips quivered. I met her eyes, silently conveying an apology that I hoped she would understand.
The silence between us was brief before she struck me.
“I raised you better than this, Yuki. How could you treat that precious child so poorly?” my mother said, her voice heavy with disappointment.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to—”
“Not your intention? Then what was your intention when you left her with strangers, or alone to starve? There’s only one intention behind those actions: to cause harm, nothing more, nothing less.”
“I know, I didn’t realize that until—”
“Yuki, all the self-reflection in the world, during her hospital stay and your subsequent remorse, cannot compensate for your irresponsibility and the suffering you caused that child.”
I was consumed by shame, collapsing to my knees as tears flooded my eyes.
“Oh, my child, my child! I’m so sorry!” I cried out in torment. Memories of abandoning her to weep while I sat in the living room, numbing myself with alcohol and lashing out at her in irritation, haunted me. Why was I so indifferent to her tears? Why did I become so irate that I left her all alone, sometimes for days, only returning home to avoid legal repercussions for neglect? I had never felt such remorse, not even when she accidentally burned her hand on the cigarette I had carelessly left on the ashtray. It only irritated me because now I had to soothe her cries and complaints. She should have known better, but I know she didn’t—because I had failed to teach her.
“I understand, Yuki, perhaps better than anyone, the loneliness of raising a child. I may have been married to your father, but he was often absent, both mentally and physically. I know the despair of feeling abandoned, the helplessness when it seems the world is against you. But Yuki, my dear, I never once took it out on you or your siblings. I never held you responsible because none of you were to blame for our circumstances. The fault was mine and your father’s,” my mother said, her voice thick with disappointment; it pierced my heart.
She walked to me and, instead of embracing me, she spoke in a calm, still disappointed tone.
“Yuki, what happened in the past we cannot just let it slide. Just because you died does not mean you escape punishment.”
I looked up at her, eyes filled with despair and sadness. I couldn’t complain- no, I know I shouldn’t complain; my actions were and still are unforgivable.
What my mother said next confused me.
“Listen, Yuki, there isn’t much time—” she began to speak again, but I cut her off, shocked.
“What? No, where are you going?” I protested, struggling to my feet and reaching out for her hand.
She did not hold me like she did when I was a child; she only held my hand.
“It’s not just me. It’s you too. Listen well, Yuki, my friend has consented to the arrangement we made,” she silenced me with a look that meant ‘be quiet when I’m speaking,’ so I closed my mouth. “He has agreed to reincarnate us into another world. I am, in a way, already there, but you will also be reborn. You won’t regain your memories of this life until you turn 19 years old. I won’t be your biological mother in that life, and I will not look the same as I once did in our old world, but when you remember who you are and who I am, you can seek me out for assistance; your father will know me, and you can ask him once the time is right.”
“Wait, wait, I’m confused—” I halted as I noticed another presence in the room, a tall man with flowing silver hair that cascaded past his waist, long ears like an Elf’s I have only seen in stories, piercing blue eyes, and a pronounced nose, leaning casually against a pillar with his arms folded, observing us.
“Who—” I began.
“Oh, I’m your mother’s friend, the one she mentioned,” he interjected, almost too jovially.
“What does that mean? Who are you, really?” I inquired. “If you’re the friend, you must be someone of great power, given that she mentioned you would ‘reincarnate us.’ Are you a god?”
He chuckled. “Daphne, your daughter is quite astute.”
My mother smiled. “Yuki, there are many things we cannot discuss, as they are confidential. This man here is one of the many deities in this universe. But as I said, it’s confidential and not to be spoken of. Be wary in this new world—it’s filled with magic, magical creatures, demons, and more. Sometimes, the most dangerous foes can be royalty, nobility, or other mages. And be cautious of those claiming to be the ‘Saint’ of the god Gaia, for the true Saint has not yet been born. This brings me to my final point: you won’t regain your memories until you are 19, the day you give birth to your child.”
“What?!” I gasped, shocked. “What do you mean, I’ll have another child? No, I can’t—I can’t subject another child to—.”
“This is your second chance, Yuki, and also your VERY last. Live a life better than the one you chose before and raise her with the care and love you should have given her in your past life. Gaia and I made a deal; instead of punishment, you will gain another chance to raise her.”
I gazed at my mother, grasping the implication of her words. “You mean… she’ll be my child again?”
My mother’s smile was gentle. “Yes.”
A pang of sorrow hit me. “Why? I don’t deserve this second chance.”
“You’re absolutely right; but she does.” The man, whom I presumed to be Gaia, interjected. “The way you treated that child dictated how you should be treated in your next life. You’re fortunate your mother won our wager; otherwise, you would have faced a fate far grimmer than death.”
A shiver of fear ran through me. He was clearly not human, and not someone to cross. His presence had a heavy pressure that almost forced me to kneel, but my mother held on to me with one arm, supporting me, then with another arm and, to my horror, struck the man on his head like a child.
SLAP
“Ow, Daphne, why did you hit me?” he whined, rubbing the back of his head.
I stood there in shock. My mother had just slapped a deity and yet remained unscathed. What was happening?
“Alright, my child, it’s time for me to go,” my mother announced, planting a kiss on my forehead. “When your memories return, seek out the name ‘Kratos’—it will lead you to assistance.”
I wanted to beg her to remain, to inundate her with further questions, but I knew it would be in vain. Her resolve was as unyielding as ever, a characteristic that transcended worlds. I wrapped my arms around her in a final embrace, and then she vanished. Reflecting on it now, I regret not asking her to stay because the man behind me has been staring at my back while I said my goodbyes to my mother, and now it feels as though a whole will be burnt through my back.
A shiver ran down my spine as if doused with icy water. I turned to find Gaia, his stature imposing as he appraised me.
“Hmm… I suppose I should honor your mother’s request,” he mused.
His tone dripped with disappointment, or so it seemed to me as I fought back tears internally.
“Um… Mr. God, sir?” I stammered.
“Gaia,” he corrected.
“Gaia, where will I be reborn?” I inquired.
“You’ll come to know once your memories resurface. Fear not, you’ll be born into a commendable family, a noble house of modest power, far from the Emperor’s scrutiny. However, you will possess a considerable amount of manna and numerous magical abilities uncommon to many, so… I advise discretion,” he advised, then hesitated. “Ah, but you won’t recall this conversation… Hopefully, your new parents will guide you appropriately,” He said with a sarcastic tone.
“Wait, wait, wait—THAT’S IT?” I blurted out, halting his dismissive gesture.
“Yes,” he paused, his right eyebrow raised inquisitively, “is there something else you desire?”
“It seems you’re sending me into this world without any details. I’m quite literally being kept in the dark; could you offer some guidance?”
“Hmm. No.” His reply was so fast, no sympathy whatsoever; he looked like the type of person who was in a hurry and didn’t want to stay in one spot for too long.
“WHAT?!” My voice echoed as he flicked his hand, initiating my descent into a whirlpool of light. The final words I caught from him were, “You won’t retain any of this until you turn 19. By that time, you’ll have acquainted yourself with the world, so there’s no cause for concern!”
“This is absolutely UNFAIR!” I protested vehemently as the vortex drew me in; as I fell, I caught a glimpse of amusement on his face as I descended into darkness.