By the time I was conscious again, it was already night.

  An airy, high-pitched voice teased me as fingers prodded my stomach. “Wake up, little one. You can’t sleep the entire day away.”

  Through my half-lidded eyes, the face of the young, blonde maid from before sharpened into focus. I tried to raise my arm, but it only lifted halfway before flopping onto a soft, padded surface.

  I was on a changing pad.

  “Still groggy, huh?” The maid’s face darkened. She looked to her side. “Do you think something might be wrong with little Josephine, Lady Meridol?”

  A teacup settled onto a saucer with a delicate clink. “She takes her milk, her breathing is steady, and her pulse is strong,” the now-familiar, deeper voice of the wet nurse replied. “What more could be asked?”

  The girl’s frown deepened. She didn’t seem satisfied with the answer. “But she never cries or makes any noises. And the Duke… he hasn't come to see her even once.”

  “Watch yourself, Beatrice,” Meridol rebuked sharply, and Beatrice shrank from her. “His Grace is in mourning. The rites for Her Grace have not even begun.”

  Beatrice's fingers gently squeezed my own. "But surely," she whispered, looking down at me, "it would warm his heart just to see how cute she is."

  I turned my head to see Meridol staring hard at the young maid. “You have not attended many infants before, have you, Beatrice?”

  Beatrice reflexively covered her face. “No, Lady Meridol. The head nurse... she withdrew due to her grief. But I have helped care for my brother’s children.”

  Meridol shook her head slowly, her gaze dropping to the open book on her lap. "Then tell me. What do you see when you look at her?"

  “Huh?” Beatrice looked down at me, her hazel eyes studying my face. “Well, she has a finely shaped face. A cute little nose. Smooth, white skin… I mean, her purple eyes are a little strange, but they're very pretty. Actually... she looks perfect."

  "Newborns are wrinkly, grumpy things," Meridol said without looking up. "Their skin is usually flushed and red, not pale like fine porcelain. And it certainly doesn’t gleam with the sheen of steel."

  Meridol lifted her gaze from the book, and locked her piercing, dark, obsidian eyes with mine.

  Had I been found out?

  That “Race: Human(Demon Sword)” readout flashed off and on in my mind.

  “I’ve never heard of purple eyes before,” she continued, her voice flat, “but most disturbing of all is the way she looks at you, the uncanny awareness in her gaze. His Grace will find no comfort there.”

  The harsh set of her jaw, the hardness in her eyes… her bearings reminded me of the old, grizzled veterans I used to command. She had been through battle before. The way she said ‘steel’ before had a hard and damning edge to it.

  “But… but… won’t she be sad and lonely?” Beatrice stammered.

  Meridol placed her book face-down on her lap. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her tea before answering. "Lady Priscilla invited me here because she thought it’d help me get my mind off the troubles at home. We were supposed to reminisce over tea while the baby slept. Alas, it’s not to be…"

  A thin, cool smile touched her lips. Her eyes never left mine. "Fate seemed to be set against us. Isn’t that right, little one?"

  Her gaze then shifted to Beatrice. “You see it as well, don’t you? That... weariness in her eyes. The weight that's there. She already knows."

  Beatrice's mouth opened, but no words came out. She simply stared, her brow furrowed in frustration. In the uncomfortable silence that followed, she quickly wiped me down and changed my diaper.

  She deposited me in the crib, but froze when her eyes spotted a few small items nestled in the blankets beside me, their surfaces glinting in the candlelight. “Lady Meridol, did you… put these things here?”

  Meridol must have heard the alarm in her voice. She bolted off of her seat and was beside the crib in an instant. “What? No. I’ve never seen these objects before.”

  She carefully picked up a clear glass vial filled with a swirling red liquid, holding it up to the light. Bright red lines of refracted light cascaded over both their faces.

  “What is it? Could it be poison?” Beatrice asked, wringing her hands. “Why would anyone want to harm poor Lady Josephine.”

  “Hush, girl. Let’s not rush to conclusions.”

  Meridol muttered a few words under her breath. I felt currents of energy shift in the air as she waved a hand over the vial. I could see the energy as shimmering, invisible waves that flowed from her and then wrapped around the glass, causing it to glow faintly.

  She’s using magic! An identify spell?

  Beatrice seemed completely oblivious to the phenomenon. Her eyes were fixed only on Meridol’s face, not all following the waves emanating out of her.

  The waves of energy settled and dissipated, along with the glow.

  “This is a healing potion. A rather high quality one it seems,” Meridol said, weighing the vial in her hand. She then picked up another item, a vial of swirling blue liquid. “And I’m sure this must be a mana potion, but what are these things doing in her crib?”

  Beatrice clasped her hands together. “Could it be a gift from Lumus? Perhaps he has bequeathed them to Lady Josephine to make up for the tragedy.”

  “Really, Beatrice? Consider what good these potions would do for someone in her station. There are dedicated house healers here.” Meridol shook her head as she set the vials on a side table, well out of my reach. “These items are only good for adventurers, and the first daughter of House Bloomcrest would certainly not be adventuring.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  I wanted to reach out and grab my potions back.

  Those are my starter items!

  Of course, my infant body wouldn’t obey. But her mention of "adventurers" jolted another memory loose: Allison had said this game had dungeons.

  After lifetimes of being thrown into endless large-scale battles, the idea of exploring a dungeon on my own terms sounded kind of… fun.

  Meridol picked up the last item, a hoop made of strands of twisted gold with a jade center piece.

  As she began her incantation, I focused on it as well, trying to see if the identity from my [Demon Insight] would show anything. It worked! A display flickered into view before me.

  That’s… a tutorial reward? It was hard to remember, these effects might not be much for most games, but as Joan I never had inventory slots—I had to carry everything myself. The extra life though, I had several items which granted that, but they never worked for the fire.

  Meridol, however, seemed blown away. “This… is a powerful magic item.” She pulled the bracelet to her chest. “I need to consult Master Winthrop. Right away.”

  That’s mine! I wanted to yell at her. I managed to roll onto my side, but there was nothing more I could do... except to start crying.

  So I let it go. My mouth opened and I started wailing without restraint.

  Beatrice covered her ears as my cries rang against the stone walls. “Lady Meridol! I think she’s really attached to that thing! She never cried like this before!”

  Meridol, who had been halfway to the door, stopped and turned back to look at me. Her eyes narrowed as she studied me. “You may be right. My spell did reveal the item was bound to her soul.”

  Beatrice inhaled sharply, her hand flying to her mouth.

  “Don’t just stand there. Go fetch Master Winthrop.” Meridol snapped, her voice regaining its sharp edge. “I don’t feel safe leaving this thing with her.”

  It didn’t take long for the sound of hurried footsteps to return. Beatrice reappeared, leading a narrow-faced man with charcoal-grey hair, and a sharp goatee. He was dressed in a pair of loose pajamas, clearly having been roused from bed.

  “Meridol, what is it? Did something happen to my niece?" he asked, sounding out of breath.

  “She’s fine, Winthrop. However, we found a few peculiar items in her crib.”

  “Items? I don’t understand.” Winthrop tilted his head, but then he caught sight of me. A soft smile touched his lips as he walked over to the crib. “So this is her… She’s rather enchanting.” He raised a hand and wiggled his fingers playfully. “Hello, Josephine, I am your uncle, well half-uncle, Winthrop.”

  Beatrice giggled, only to be silenced by a sharp glare from Meridol.

  “Winthrop, these are the items.” Meridol gestured to the two vials on the side table. “A healing and a mana potion.” She then opened her palm to reveal the golden hoop. “But what’s most concerning is this…I don’t understand the meaning of it. She’s a newborn.”

  Winthrop’s playful expression vanished. His face darkened as he took the hoop and held it aloft. He traced a few intricate gestures in the air with his free hand, his voice a low, rhythmic chant. I could see waves of energy, far more complex than Meridol's, flowing between him and the bracelet.

  He raised his head when he finished. “Yes. Very strange. It is a Beginner’s bracelet.”

  “What does that mean?” Beatrice couldn’t hold back her curiosity any longer, and neither could I.

  They both knew something that seemed more ominous than what my identify revealed.

  Winthrop narrowed his gaze at me, tapping the loop against his palm. The grey of his eyes reminded me of my new father, though the deep concern in them was a sharp contrast to my father's flaring anger.

  “There are tales of the gods gifting bracelets to heroes when they set forth on their quests. These bracelets are called Beginner’s bracelets, and they usually confer some form of protection. This appears to be one of them.”

  Beatrice’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “Oh, holy Lumus!” She breathed, clasping her hands together. “You did bless our Lady Josephine.”

  “This isn’t a blessing,” Meridol hissed bitterly at Beatrice. “The gift signals the beginning of a journey, a long and arduous one. She’s a baby, not even a week old. For her, this is a curse.”

  “We don’t know the timing,” Winthrop cautioned. “I will have to look more into the archives to see.”

  “And what are we to do in the meantime?” Meridol asked, her voice heavy with weariness. “The child grows agitated if we try to take it from her.” To my surprise, she reached over and gently patted my cheek.

  Winthrop stroked his goatee, lost in thought for a long moment. Then he handed the golden hoop back to Meridol.

  “Have her wear it. The item is not malignant; I have checked and double checked. I know you’re afraid of the implications, but consider the other possibility. If some tragedy is fated for her, then we’d regret her not having it on. The item is bound to her. Let us pray there is not already a reason for its appearance.”

  Meridol yielded with a reluctant nod. She slid the gold hoop over my arm and it instantly shrank to fit comfortably around me. A message appeared.

  That’s a massive jump! But what did 52 HP even mean in this world? I had no idea what everyone’s stats were. Something deep down told me that trying to identify others wasn’t a good idea.

  "We must report this to His Grace." Meridol said as she diligently looked over my arm. She paused and then added with a softening voice. "...How is he?"

  “Not good. He’s still locked in his study. The sounds coming from there…” Winthrop slowly shook his head and sighed. “Ben is trying to soldier through it, but he’s just a kid.” He wiped a hand down his face, covering his lips. “I miss her, too…”

  His moist grey eyes gazed down at me. “You’ve been deprived of a wonderful mother, little one.”

  He’s so kind.

  I wondered what he’d think of me if he knew I was the one that killed her.

  My father knows. I saw it in his eyes. That’s why he won’t come see me, ever.

  After Winthrop and Meridol left, Beatrice was cleaning up when she stopped at the wall.

  “What’s this?” She stooped down, picking up the candle I had knocked over. She turned it over in her hand, looking puzzled, then grinned at me. “Little Josephine, did you see the ghost who knocked down this everbright candle?”

  She placed the candle back on its holder. A tap on the side was all it took to light it up again.

  I noticed no smoke rose from that or any of the other candles. It wasn't real fire at all, just pure light in the shape of a flame. Unlike my previous world where magic was mostly relegated to battles, here, magic was everywhere.

  Beatrice’s face popped up over the edge of the crib, her eyes sparkling as she squeezed my cheek. “If you see that naughty ghost making any more trouble, you beat him up for me, okay? After all, you're going to be a great hero someday.”

  That fervent light in her eyes stirred up an uncomfortable tightness in my chest.

  Is she becoming another fidèle?