Chapter 5: First encounter!
Chapter 5: First encounter!
Vira: "Can't say I remember much of it, but is that doc careless or simply cruel? Like, there are literal bruises near my neck and my—"
The author, interrupting midway with a burst of laughter, said, "Your diaper was full of shit! Hahaha! Tough luck, mate. The Children Act was passed in 1989—who told you to be born ten years too early?"
Perhaps sensing Vira's impending rage, the author, as always, quickly shifted gears and started the chapter.
It may have been the hunger or the overwhelming pain earlier that dulled his senses, but until now, he hadn't noticed the serpent's red eyes fixed on him from atop his leg.
Even when the snake slithered closer and settled on his chest, he remained oblivious.
But when he finally saw it, his reaction was far from what one might expect. Perhaps it was disbelief—after all, who would imagine a snake, of all things, inside a hospital in a bustling city filled with humans and cars? Or maybe it was something else entirely.
There was no fear, no panic. Instead, he frowned and thought, "Whose dumb kid came up with this prank? Seriously, leaving a toy snake on a comatose person."
Even when the snake slithered closer to his head, its tongue flicking and hissing near his face, he didn't react much.
Instead, with an odd sense of amazement, he wondered to himself, "How many years have I been in a coma for?"
Then came a surge of excitement as his thoughts continued, "Remote-controlled! And the movements feel so smooth. Heck, even the cold touch feels so real. Amazing!"
Ignoring the snake as it coiled its body and stared directly at his face, his imagination ran wild. He began to wonder if humanity had advanced to the point of creating lifelike replicas of anime characters. "Have household robots finally become a reality?" he mused, his excitement growing.
Even in his delirium, his thoughts shifted, and he started eagerly expecting a robotic nurse to walk in and take care of him.
But these thoughts did not last long. When he focused on reality and turned his attention to the door—always in his sight but ignored amidst his confusion—his gaze caught something unexpected in the reflection of the snake's red eyes.
There, in the faint glimmer of those predatory pupils, he saw the reflection of a baby. A small figure with plump, water-filled cheeks and, most strikingly, pale blue pupils swimming in the whites of its eyes.
Those eyes weren't just ordinary—they seemed crafted to mesmerize, to draw in anyone who dared look at them, as if designed to steal souls with their beauty. And mesmerize they did. Those pale blue orbs managed to captivate the attention of the only two creatures awake in the room.
But Vira managed to detach himself from those entrancing eyes as his heart raced, pounding like a drum in his chest. Fear overtook him—not of the serpent, not even close. He was terrified, shaken to his core by a thought more horrifying than anything he'd faced before: had he died and come back to life in the body of a baby?
Desperation drove him to turn his head, the movement sending sharp stabs of pain through his neck. But he paid no attention to the pain. His focus was locked on the reflection, on those red eyes that followed the tilt of his head.
And to his growing despair, the nightmare only deepened. The baby's face, which now seemed to haunt him, remained unchanged in the reflection. No, not unchanged—its head mirrored his tilt exactly, solidifying the horrifying truth in his mind.
Even with the truth staring him in the face, Vira clung desperately to denial. His thoughts twisted and turned, grasping at straws. "Yes, this must be some kind of AI trick. One of those image-generation things. Someone must be playing a prank on me."
But the head tilt had revealed more than just the face. The brief movement brought the room into view—the clinical white walls, the bed he was lying on, and the woman resting nearby. Each detail struck him like a hammer blow, shattering the fragile barrier of denial he had barely managed to piece together.
After the initial shock, he remained motionless for a long time. His once-bright eyes dimmed under the weight of what he had just realized.
But then, perhaps it was the thousands of isekai and world-hopping novels and fanfiction he'd read, or maybe it was his heart whispering that there was nothing he could do to change the situation. From deep within his soul, buried under years of monotony and dust, he unearthed a spark of optimism.
It wasn't easy, but it was there, faint and persistent, urging him to move forward. This was a new chance at life, he thought—a chance to start over.
Though he had lost all his material possessions, his years of experience remained. The skills he had gained in the cybersecurity field, the tidbits of knowledge he'd picked up from his varied interests—surely, those would help him rise again.
And the thought that brought him the most calm was a bittersweet one. In his previous life, he'd had no spouse, no children, and his parents had long since passed. His relationships with neighbors and coworkers had been distant and unremarkable.
What had once been a source of loneliness and depression now seemed like the best thing that could have happened to him. There was no one left to grieve his absence, no ties anchoring him to a life he could never return to.
Instead of despair, this realization gave him a strange kind of freedom. It allowed him to accept the situation for what it was.
The thought of being alive and the realization that this might just be a boon—an opportunity to start anew—sparked a glimmer of hope within him. A chance to rise, to go beyond what he had been in his previous life.
But reality quickly brought him back to his current predicament.
There was a snake near his neck. Its unblinking, reddish eyes, with distinct vertical slits, were fixated on his face.
His heart sank as he recognized what those slits meant—this serpent was venomous.
He tried his best to remain calm.
He kept his mouth shut, realizing he now had some control over it. He even attempted not to blink, forcing his eyes to stay open despite the burning pain that flared each time they dried.
But he was just a baby—a mere three months old—and had little control over his body.
Inevitably, his eyelids betrayed him, closing on their own, leaving him defenseless.
Panic gripped him as his heart raced violently, each beat hammering against his chest like a death knell.
And then, instinct took over. His mouth burst open, trying to muster a cry—the only action a child of his age could do to plead for help.
But to his relief, no sound came out—not the piercing cry of a baby nor the incoherent babble they were known for.
Whether this was fortunate or not remained an open question, but his throat had gone dry and hoarse from the relentless crying he'd done the day he fell from the table.