Chapter 14 : An unhappy child in an unhappy world, and a dirty adult

Family.

To me, that word alone was a source of pain.

In my first life, and in my second… those called family were never once kind to me.

“You wretched woman, how dare you!”

“It’s your fault, so why blame me!?”

The first memory that surfaces is the sound of those I called parents quarreling.

Their attitude was vicious, devoid of any consideration for each other.

The best I could do was hide in my bed every day, holding my breath, fearing their anger might turn to me.

As those days dragged on, I began to accept that hostility as normal, eventually facing them with half-resigned indifference.

I avoided eye contact, kept my mouth shut no matter what they said, building a wall between us.

“You little brat, your father’s home and you don’t even greet me? What kind of rotten manners are those? You think I feed and house you to act like this!?”

The man I called father always asserted his authority, emphasizing that my existence was a favor he granted.

Even now, it sounds pathetic.

If birth is truly a blessing, life should be happy. How could I feel gratitude for a life that forced only misery upon me?

“Why are you such a mess? Other kids get good grades and help with chores diligently. Who did you take after to keep causing me grief?”

The woman called mother always voiced her disappointment and doubt in me.

She seemed to hope her words would spur me to effort, but they only drained my energy, leaving me unmotivated.

No matter what I did, she’d never be satisfied.

So I lived carelessly, even dabbling in what the world called delinquency.

The expectations of those who were never kind to me filled me with such revulsion that I refused to meet them.

“You ungrateful wretch!”

What is filial piety?

How could they expect me to perform something they never once taught me?

“Raising a kid like you is utterly pointless.”

If that’s how they felt, why birth me at all? If I was to be miserable, why bring me into existence?

They chose to create me.

I was just a child, born against my will.

“I can’t stand the sight of you—get out of this house!”

At that final roar in my dark despair, I fled the house without hesitation.

It was a home where staying only brought pain. If they wanted me gone, leaving was the right thing to do.

Yes, it was a bond that could be severed. My relationship with them…

After that, I wandered wherever my feet took me, eventually arriving at the rooftop of a building, staring down for a long while.

The sight etched in my eyes was a city far vaster than I’d imagined, filled with more people living in this world than I’d ever considered.

I, who’d only ever seen the bottom, had never felt this.

Among them, the sight of families walking side by side with happy faces forced me to reflect on my life, overwhelmed by bitter regret.

Parents could be so kind, and children born to them could be so happy.

So why was I forced to live like this? The pain and anguish of that question consumed me.

–THUD!!

That realization drove me to step beyond the railing, and my body, losing its foothold, plummeted to the asphalt road below.

Was it impulse, or had I been pushed to a point where such an act wasn’t surprising?

Either way, it was my choice in that moment, and I believed I wouldn’t regret it.

This would end my painful life.

And if, by some chance, an afterlife existed, maybe I could live a better life than this one.

–CRASH!!

How foolish that hope was, I realized every time I heard the sound of glass shattering.

The life I’d hoped would be better than my first crushed my heart even more brutally.

“Mama, you’re drinking too much. Please stop…”

“Shut up! Who are you to lecture me? Just go buy the liquor I tell you to. Got it!?”

Unlike my first life, which at least resembled a family, my second life began in the arms of a prostitute in a slum.

A woman so notorious in the alleys that everyone knew her name.

But fame as a prostitute meant sacrificing her dignity, and to escape that reality, she spent her earnings on liquor, a chronic alcoholic.

“What are you doing? Your mama’s home and you don’t even greet me?”

“W-Welcome ba—**”

“Shut up and bring me liquor. That’s all you’re good for.”

My second mother spoke only of liquor, and when I brought it, she gulped it down without snacks.

Staying by her side, I’d catch a distinct scent.

Harsh perfume to mask her odor, and overlaid with the smell of strange men—no, multiple strange men.

“Damn it, why do you look like him…?”

Despite selling her body to countless men for money, she didn’t care for herself, only drinking and lamenting.

Unable to forget the man she believed would save her from this miserable life, she saw him in me, who resembled him.

“He said he loved me, that we’d be together forever! If he was going to cast me aside as a filthy woman, he shouldn’t have given me hope. Leaving me in this gutter alone… he shouldn’t have given me hope in the first place.”

She spared no harsh words or shouts when she looked at me, yet I tried to love her despite it.

In my first life, I’d done nothing, driven out by circumstances.

With that memory, I hoped my second life could be different.

If my first life didn’t change because I did nothing, I wanted this life to change by doing something.

“Mama…”

Look at me.

Even if the man you loved left, I’m still here.

At least see me as hope, pull yourself together, and live properly.

“It’s all your fault!!”

But my plea was met with harsh violence.

That day, struck and knocked to the floor, she loomed over me, swinging her fists repeatedly.

“You’re why that man left! You’re why I keep remembering him! If it weren’t for you, if you weren’t here, I wouldn’t be living this miserably…!!”

Her fists swung with force, followed by a tightening around my neck.

But it didn’t hurt.

Her body, weakened by consuming only alcohol instead of nourishment, was so frail that even young me could’ve shaken her off easily.

“Ma… ma…”

Yet I didn’t evade her violence.

If I fled from her, as I had in my first life, I believed the same cycle would repeat.

And more than anything, I felt pity for this woman living a life even more miserable than mine.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

Yes, she was an unhappy person.

Someone who needed kindness and compassion even more than I did.

In my first life, no one had comforted me, so I knew that pain. I didn’t want someone more unhappy than me to suffer like that.

“So please, stop. For your sake, please…”

Let’s start over now.

As if my desperation reached her, the fist striking my cheek was withdrawn.

She finally stepped back and left the house.

I thought her action might mean she needed time to reflect, and I began to harbor a vague hope.

If she changed her heart, maybe happiness could exist in this unhappy second life…

“Yes, I’ve received it.”

But what I faced was a human trafficking scene.

Handed money by a merchant, she spoke to me dismissively.

“This won’t be bad for you either. Better to be sold to some rich family than stay with someone like me.”

She didn’t meet my eyes. There was no gentle touch.

That was our farewell, and I never saw her again.

I was sold by her hand.

Trapped in a cage, I felt the hope she’d nurtured shatter mercilessly.

Yet I felt no betrayal or sadness.

To despair over it would’ve been pointless, as the cage was filled with children in the same plight as me.

“Mama, I miss Mama…”

“Be quiet! Your mama abandoned you, that’s why you’re here.”

“Why do I have to go through this? Why…?”

Boys and girls, clueless, sobbing desperately, hoping this moment would end.

Among them, I was the only one holding onto my sanity.

Having lived two lives with an adult’s mind, I understood why so many children were in this same situation.

Yes, I wasn’t alone.

In my first life and second… this world was full of children who knew no happiness, and I was merely one of them.

Realizing this, my unhappiness felt natural. If you’re born into this world, most people are destined to live unhappily.

That realization brought an odd sense of relief.

Thank goodness. It wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t the only one in this plight.

Even though finding comfort in my misery felt ugly, looking back, I lived ignoring those feelings.

An unhappy child born of an unhappy world naturally becomes an ugly adult.

Accepting my own ugliness, I walked the path of abandoning morality as the world demanded, soiling my hands beyond redemption.

Killing lives, being praised for killing, believing that was my path to survive, and killing even more…

“When I return this time, my wife says she’ll welcome me with our child.”

Amid those days, one day during a meal, a subordinate shared his story with me.

“…You have a family?” I asked.

“Yes, life’s tough now, but once I’m discharged and get my pension, I can make my wife and child happy.”

A soldier who’d lived an unhappy life like me.

An orphan, conscripted against his will, soiling his hands as I did.

Yet his face shone with happiness, because unlike me, he had hope for the future.

“Don’t you have a family to return to, Captain? Or maybe marriage plans?”

“…Family.”

What response could I give to my subordinate’s expectation of agreement?

After a moment of thought, I let out a bitter remark, ending the conversation.

“It’s better not to have such things. Not now, not ever…”

Family. To me, it was a painful word.

In my first life and second… they always forced unhappiness upon me.

If I created a family, any child born would surely walk the same path as me.

In an unhappy world, unhappy children are born, and those tainted adults birth more unhappy children.

So let no child inherit my blood.

Without a partner, I’d live alone, breaking this cycle of misery in my generation.

Yes, back then, I lived with that resolve.

As long as this world remained unchanged, I was certain that resolve would never waver.

But despite that determination, I now felt growing unease as those memories began to fade…

–Chirp, chirp.

As those memories blurred with the sound of birds chirping, I roused my drowsy body and slowly turned my gaze to the window.

The morning sun shone brightly.

Birds chirped, leaves swayed in the gentle breeze… a vibrant spring scene unfitting for a world I’d always deemed unhappy.

I’d believed my life was unhappy, so why did this scene feel oddly familiar?

“Mmm…”

I realized why when I noticed a small presence wiggling under the blanket I was covered with.

Rona. My daughter.

The child who appeared before me like a miracle… the child I, who’d vowed never to have children, accepted as my own.

“Mnya, hehe…”

Even in sleep, a radiant smile never left her lips.

Was she dreaming a happy dream?

Seeing her * linger* in dreamland despite the morning sun, my hand instinctively reached for her head.

To stroke this small child’s hair with my hand.

“…”

But my hand hesitated, stopping short of touching her.

I’d just recalled those memories through my dreams. They reminded me how tainted I was, and I worried that taint might spread to this child.

Yes, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

Was I truly fit to be this child’s parent? Could I, soiled beyond redemption, guide her to the right path?

“Ugh, uuu…”

As I grappled with these thoughts, Rona wiggled in her sleep.

Then, her tiny fist clenched tightly, and I unconsciously leaned toward it.

What’s she doing? Is she fighting something in her dream? I wondered briefly.

“NONAPPAJIYAAAA!!”

A sudden shout accompanied a swinging fist.

By the time I sensed the storm of mana within it, Rona’s fist had already struck my cheek.

–BOOM!!

A deafening explosion sent my head reeling.

Unable to withstand the blow, my body crashed into the window and was flung outside the house.

–CRASH!

I learned the hard way that Rona’s sleep-talking was no joke.