Staring at the frown-lidden side profile of the charming handmaid rushing to outpace raindrops falling heavier and heavier, Jared briefly thought back over his few months of living in this new world that was so different from his original. After waking from his grief-induced slumber on the day after his birth, he questioned the futility of his prolonged existence, and whether he was destined to lose every good thing that came into his life. He even felt indifferent to the fact that his biological parents in this world seemingly wanted nothing to do with him (He heard Isabella say something along these lines as he drifted in and out of sleep).

The first time he even met his father was what seemed to him like a month since his birth (he had begun counting the day and night cycles to keep track of time). The only reason he was aware that his father was coming was that his caretaker tried to put on an exciting front for his benefit, even though she assumed he couldn’t understand her criticisms of the duke as a father (It was fortunate for him that there were only minor variations in the verbal language from his original world).

The fact that he was the son of nobility, albeit practically in-name-only, was a surprise. The concept of nobility was vaguely understood by Jared but felt foreign to him since he hailed from a democratic society. That concept no longer felt as foreign to him after meeting his new father. A tall man who looked to be in his early forties, with a rather stocky build, neatly trimmed dirty blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes set above a thick blonde moustache and a sharp jawline. The man seemed to exude an oppressive aura that suggested a swift death for whoever crossed him, as his eyes brimming with intelligence seemed to appraise Jared for all his worth. “Hmm, he looks a bit scrawny, are you sure you’re feeding him properly? Well, whatever, make sure he grows up well so he can be of some use. From now on your name will be Felix Archibald Armstrong, a strong name, do it justice.” The duke’s eyes practically oozed with indifference as he appraised Felix like a slab of meat, but Felix was more focused on keeping his expression as absent-minded as a regular infant, in case his naturally observant expression sparked the dangerous man’s interest.

It wasn’t fun to hear a stranger silently sobbing over his fate at night as he tried to sleep, but he wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with reactions of pity, so he brushed it off. Or so he thought. Frankly, the first few months of Felix’s new existence were almost as boring as the intermittent periods he spent bedridden in his previous life, mainly because he seemed to have been transported to a mediaevalesque world with limited forms of entertainment.

On the plus side, instead of feeling helpless to the pain from his previous ailment, he felt helpless in trying to move his body. He was far from developed enough to control his body to his satisfaction, something he was painfully reminded of in the window between each feeding session and each changing session. The food was just as bland and more awkward, given that he was a 21-year-old man in a newborn’s body. Fortunately, after about 3 months he was able to graduate to more solid foods.

One of the harsher inconveniences that Felix experienced was his inability to communicate effectively. A 4-month-old baby speaking any form of coherent words would probably be considered cursed. All he could do was cry when he was hungry or after he had relieved himself, and maybe he would feign laughter whenever his caretaker played peek-a-boo. He would, however, unironically giggle whenever he was tickled, as it seemed that one of his biggest weaknesses from his previous life had followed him into this one.

On a sadder note, not having anyone to talk to, Felix would often be alone with his thoughts, sadly reminiscing over his lost loved ones. He tried to motivate himself by saying that he had been emotionally scarred before, but he had overcome it and that he could do it again, but he was currently feeling a lethargy in his spirit, wondering what the point in living was if everyone you ever cared about ended up leaving you, and vice versa. His caretaker would be shocked whenever she saw him randomly become teary-eyed, frightened that something was wrong, and working quickly to find a solution to whatever was troubling Felix. Unfortunately, she couldn’t fix what she couldn’t find, so Felix would assuage her worries by quickly calming down as she soothed him, as if nothing were ever wrong.

This brought Felix to think about the bubbly maid that had diligently cared for him all this time. A pretty woman in a rustic sense, she carried her petite stature and (what looked to Felix) over 30 years of age very well. If not for the mature impression she gave off in the presence of other house help, Felix would assume that she was in her early 20’s given her freckled cheeks, lively green eyes, and the almost childish brown pigtails that barely reached her elbows.

Felix felt guilty when he learned from Isabella that she had recently given birth to a son before coming to work in his mother’s Manor, and now she was taking such good care of him when she had a child at home. Granted the boy was slightly older than him and a bit more independent, but he felt as if he was less deserving of her constant attention as she was missing her very own flesh and blood’s childhood. What’s more, he was frightened of letting another person into his heart for fear of them being ripped away when he got too comfortable.

However, through Isabella’s attentive care over the good days and the bad, Felix slowly began to let her into his heart. Isabella would spend time telling Felix about the world around him, albeit from her limited perspective.