Living an infant's life with an adult's consciousness is a very peculiar experience.
The key is that you can strongly and clearly grasp what "powerlessness" means.
Infants are undeveloped individuals. Aside from the most basic necessary functions, others are either absent, like teeth, or incomplete, like self-control.
Initially, I didn't even possess the ability to distinguish colors. But as days passed, I could feel my body gradually gaining strength, being able to sit up, stand upright, and the heavy sleepiness lessening. It was as if I were slowly shedding restraints, using this body more and more freely.
It would be a lie to say I wasn't happy.
I cannot afford to slacken because of this. No matter how realistic the game's details are, this is ultimately an absurd dream.
As a rather staunch materialist, I must resist false temptations and not be careless.
Remember, remember.
Yes, there's no need to worry about forgetting. As long as someone speaks to me, a dialogue box will appear. It won't allow me to deliberately forget or to confuse reality. I will struggle, struggle in the liminal space between reality and the dream, until I successfully lean completely towards one side.
During my infancy, I had ample leisure to sort out my feelings, understand my current situation, and even had the spare time to ponder obviously meaningless things.
I truly miss it. How long has it been since I experienced such simple, carefree leisure, without worrying about anything else?
After entering society, not a single day passed without anxiety and exhaustion. Later, I realized that the cause of this situation was my mediocrity.
I am the type of person who, well, is like the neatly trimmed trees in a park—no superfluous, annoying branches, yet nothing remarkable.
This way, as a child, I would be praised as a "well-behaved child." As an adult, I would be praised as "honest and upright."
No, the latter part cannot be considered praise; let's omit it.
Amidst the bustling crowds, I was quiet, always quiet, from my voice to my actions. I never even had a rebellious phase. Like an inconspicuous tree, perhaps this is why I became mute in this game—the vocal cords are superfluous to me. I wouldn't feel inconvenienced, wouldn't feel uncomfortable.
Being unable to make a sound also fits the game's atmosphere. To increase player immersion, protagonists in RPGs are almost always silent.
Oh, and their faces are often not depicted.
Regarding my face, I have confirmed it's the type where the face is visible.
According to the setting of my birth parents and family background, it is, of course, a face of very high standards.
A face of very high standards, a female protagonist, an alternate world centered around popular male characters—oh, how standard an otome game setup this is.
As I said before, I have so much leisure that I can thoughtlessly ponder obviously meaningless things. So, I began to imagine trivial matters that do not align with my reliable adult persona—considering the possibility of this game being an otome game.
Ahem, reality check. The current year is 1975. The original setting has been put aside for too long, and I can't remember many details, especially the years. I only remember the year 1999 as the year the notorious villainous organization, the Phantom Troupe, plundered Yorknew City.
However, this is not important. No one can predict the consequences of the butterfly effect. In any case, I know I am the first child of Silva Zoldyck. According to the original setting of the Zoldyck family's high efficiency, if nothing unexpected happens, next year they will welcome the birth of the Zoldyck family's true first child in the original work, Illumi Zoldyck.
Then, it will be until the Zoldyck family has their third child, one of the original protagonists, Killua Zoldyck. Only when he reaches 12 years old will the plot officially begin, with all sorts of popular characters making their appearances and embarking on a series of astonishing and thrilling adventures. Therefore, the years leading up to Killua's twelfth birthday are the most favored by fanfiction authors, full of rich imagination and constant excitement.
Doing some quick calculations, by that golden year, I'll be around 23 years old.
Hmm, I'm not particularly keen on sister-brother relationships, so that eliminates a series of characters.
Hmm, I have high standards for character appearances, so that eliminates a series of characters.
Hmm, I have specific ideas about character capture difficulty, so that eliminates a series of characters.
"..." Thus, finding no popular game characters I want to capture, this game is ruined.
Ultimately, it's a problem with the game's timeline setting. It's not about coming early but about coming at the right time. Instead of an awkward point in time, wouldn't it be better to arrive earlier, allowing me to directly capture Silva Zoldyck... No, no, just kidding. I have no interest in having children. I was already exhausted living alone, and I had long lost all hope for the future, including descendants.
In an increasingly competitive society, I am not wealthy and cannot provide good living conditions for my descendants. I am also not intelligent and cannot provide good genetics and education for my descendants—a child born that way would surely have a difficult life. I can't bear it, nor do I have the energy to put it into practice.
Well, I'm tired, so I let go of the last straw in my hand.
Giving up is a despicable yet incredibly liberating and carefree act. I fall, constantly falling in the dream.
Then I wake up and see the same unchanging dialogue box, the kind from an RPG.
"...You still don't like it?" Kikyo, "my" birth mother, is fiddling with the bell toy hanging by the crib.
It's a string of bells interspersed with various small animal models. I don't recognize some of the small animals, but they look lifelike and very exquisite.
They placed the bell toy next to my pillow. As soon as I raise my hand, it rings ding-ding. It's a tool to help me, who cannot speak, express my needs. But I never touch it.
I am quiet, always quiet, from my voice to my actions.
Regarding the incident where I almost killed "myself," "my" birth mother probably feels very apologetic. So, she continuously adds various toys around me. The once spacious room is now filled with children's toys. The agile caretakers in black uniforms find it a bit troublesome to walk through them.
I don't resent "my" birth mother. I've simply lost all interest.
Because my bell has been broken.