Chapter Text
Kim Rok Soo wakes up in a room far too opulent to be his simple single bed-single bathroom apartment he had rented out.
Though it’s difficult to make out in the dim lighting of the room, the only source of light coming from the moon shining through the glass window, he can make out details of a rather ornately designed wallpaper and a golden light fixture on the ceiling. The furnishing reminds him vaguely of western designs far too luxurious to be seen in post-apocalyptic South Korea.
That’s not to mention the crib mobile hanging over his head. Nor the tons of pillows and stuffed animals he doesn’t recall having scattered across what doesn’t feel quite like his bed.
Decidedly having enough of this odd situation, Kim Rok Soo moves his body to make it rise. Or at least attempts to. It’s as if all the bone structure in his body is gone and there’s nothing to support the movement of his flopping sack of meat and muscles (not muscles anymore, the weight of his skin no longer feels sturdy and firm as before, as if it’s fat, baby fat- ).
Left with nothing else, the only thing Kim Rok Soo can will himself to do is turn his head to the side.
And that’s when he comes to the odd realization that he’s not alone here.
A companion lays beside him in this bed (he sees bars in the distance, is this a crib? ) in the form of a sleeping baby. The infant’s breaths are quiet and its face sits at a peaceful expression. The slightest twitch of its arms is an indication to whatever exciting dream it may be having.
Kim Rok Soo hasn’t never seen a baby in his life, but the times he’s personally been this up close to one can be counted on one hand. It’s a foreign situation in all regards, and he’s not quite sure what to do with such little information.
A thought of ‘ are baby’s always this fragile looking?’ passes through his head. Kim Rok Soo subconsciously reaches out with his hand, much shorter and flimsier than that of an adult man, towards the sleeping child when suddenly-
Sharp reddish-brown eyes snap open to stare. Their eyes make contact and hold for a solid 10 seconds. In its gaze shows off an intelligence and awareness unbefitting that of a drowsy child that was sleeping just seconds ago.
In that time, Kim Rok Soo can hear the loud thumping of his heart echo in his ears, and he hopes that the other doesn’t start making a ruckus. For he fears that if this literal infant begins crying, an instinct in him will make him start wailing too.
Kim Rok Soo doesn’t understand it, not when his own mind is still calmly assessing the situation and his adult mentality doesn’t want to stoop to that low when there’s no need to. But who is he to fight off such deeply rooted instincts of his unfamiliar body, almost like that of a child that sleeps when they’re tired and cries when it’s upset, functioning like it’s just trying to survive.
The reddish-brown eyes of the baby finally break eye contact and drift down to the somewhat stretched out arm in the space between them. It stares again for a second as if it’s thinking, whatever it may be Kim Rok Soo will never know nor understand, before the baby wiggles around for a bit and its own stubby arm reaches out to his own.
The small hand latches onto his outstretched mirrored hand. Its grip is somehow firm despite how soft the skin feels, and it squeezes Kim Rok Soo before it loosens, though their hands never really untangle.
An inkling of an inexplicable bond begins to form inside Kim Rok Soo. Deeper than blood, tighter than knots. A connection tethered the two beyond anything tangible. In that single moment, without a word being said, it was as if the two could understand each other. Like a gentle reassurance that was there, that they were both there for each other. And it was enough to put him at ease.
Kim Rok Soo squeezes back, solidifying his presence. The other across from him finally closes its eyes as if relieved, and Kim Rok Soo mirrors the action. He can finally let go of himself to rest.
—
It takes a day to finally accept that yes, he, Kim Rok Soo, has reincarnated and is now an infant once again.
It’s an odd situation. For an adult-turned-baby with a memory good enough as his, he doesn’t remember ever dying. The last clear memories that he had in his past life was falling asleep while reading during his vacation time-off, before waking up here. He supposes dying peacefully in his sleep was much preferred to being bloody and in pain.
He pushes the thoughts off for another time. Any sort of possibility could have occurred that he could think about, but it’s useless considering it wouldn’t change anything about his current predicament.
Kim Rok Soo would be more distressed about suddenly losing his life if he had left behind anything he considered precious. But as it stood, he held no deep attachments in his past life nor was there anyone who would miss him greatly after he was gone. He worries about his team members, but they’re capable enough to handle themselves that losing him wouldn’t have a significant impact.
It takes a bit longer for Kim Rok Soo to fully adjust to his new life.
There was hardly any strife between his mentality as a 36-year-old living in the body of an infant child less than a year old, not when he’s finally achieved the slacker life he’s always dreamed of, albeit in the most unexpected of ways. He sleeps whenever he pleases, gets to eat when he wants, and is tended to without having to lift a single finger. It’s an ideally slow life that he can just daze at the space in front of him and not have a single worry about work.
Gathering information was a bit more difficult. Besides the obvious fact that he was in an baby’s body who could only move when he was picked up to be carried, there was the issue of language as well.
The language in this life was completely different from the Korean tongue. Sounds and syllables that were more akin to what he could vaguely recognize as being English but not quite.
It was through a mix of memorizing and instinctual learning that made him adept enough to understand the words others speak around him after nearly a month. Another half to be able to listen in on conversations with complete coherency and none the wiser that a baby could understand speech as well as the rest of the grownups.
What he struggles the most getting used to though is the presence of others in this life. Namely his family.
A lifetime ago he could barely recall what having loving parents was like. They were already long gone by the time he adopted a consciousness as a child and could remember anything of sorts. And then a multitude of struggles (an unstable family home, an ambiguous adolescence in an orphanage, an apocalypse suddenly dropping on him-) happened in his life that any recollection of parents sounded more like a tall tale than anything he’s ever experienced.
Yet here they were, firmly here in front of his crib and cooing down upon him. A man and woman’s figure he assumes are his mother and father gently dote on him. Their warm hands pick up Kim Rok Soo’s now small infant body, patting and caressing him in loving reassurance.
As stoic as he tries to be, at least by the standard’s of a baby, Kim Rok Soo can’t help but pull a face every time they poke and kiss his pudgy cheeks. It leaves him with an odd fluffy feeling inside, mixed with the other mess of emotions swirling about.
He now has a father, and a gently doting one at that. One who would constantly hover over him and use his large sturdy hands to carry him everywhere around, showing off to all who pass by and gush over how precious his child was.
There was also a sweet caring mother that would sweep him into her gentle embrace. Who would use her lithe fingers to brush the whisky red strands of hair and place a kiss atop the crown of his head, singing soft lullabies so that he may be lured to sleep.
And the new unfamiliar, yet constant presence of a sibling. A twin brother, older than him by four minutes, who was almost always by his side that they could be considered joined at the hip.
Any time spent away from his twin felt… odd, almost to the point of being uncomfortable. As if passing by a mirror and not seeing your reflection where you expected it to be. And though he tried not to outwardly show how upset he was on his impassive little baby face, it was as if his parents instinctively knew and would laugh as they attempted to soothe him before his brother was placed beside him again.
In varying degrees of coherency, but all the same filled with deep affection, his family would call his name as they swaddle him in love.
“Caim.” It takes a minute for Kim Rok Soo ( now Caim, he has to remind himself in his head) to realize it’s his own name they’re saying.
Caim finds he rather quite likes his new name. It’s difficult not to, when each time it’s said with an imprint of love in the sounds of the syllable. If a name was an engraving on the soul, every part a role, wish and hope ordained just for the recipient, then “ Caim ” was like a gentle marking on his being that filled him with a warmth, akin to the one stars leave behind in the icy void of space.
His time as Kim Rok Soo would never leave him, nor could he ever bring himself to abandon and forget it. But had he never reincarnated into this new life, the chill brought about by permeating loneliness would have never left him. It’s only as Caim can he understand a family’s love so tender, it melts at his walls once again.
He wants to hold on. In his short time living in this life does he find himself becoming attached again. It’s easy enough to accept giving up on a life that he regards in distant sentiment. It’s more difficult starting all over and being vulnerable again, when he is barely in control of his instincts, the handle tight on his emotions to keep his face stoic even when people spout coos of adoration to him.
But Caim, rather Kim Rok Soo, was always someone who could adapt easily. For if love was something that would not stop falling into his lap as much as the gold this family boasted about, then he could bring himself to receive it graciously. And begin anew.
—
It’s not until he’s spent almost two years in his new life that Caim finally realizes he’s in another world. And not just any other world, but in the setting of the last novel he could recall reading in his past life, The Birth of a Hero.
Leave it to his luck to be reincarnated in a world riddled with war eighteen years later.
Though it was his fault for ignoring all the blatant signs in his face in favor of resting peacefully as any baby (and soon to be slacker) would. Any little information he learned that coincided with the setting or characters of the book, Caim chalked it up to the disclaimer always printed in novels stating something along the likes of,
“This is a work of fiction. Any and all resemblances to real world people, places, or things are mere coincidences.”
But everything was so in his face on the daily that it became hard for his conscience to ignore.
First was the matter of his family name, the Henituse County. Where it was neutral in power, it made up for it in the vast wealth that the territory was known for. Specializing in marble and wine and acted as an epicenter of arts, the territory was unremarkably peaceful except for the Forest of Darkness marking the northern border.
(An entertaining thought passes through his brain in the midst of his studies. Had the location been a little more to the south and the borders designating the area been a little more shoe-shaped, Caim would have considered it to be this world’s equivalent to Italy back on Earth.)
Next on the list was his father, Deruth Henituse. The novel had described him as a rather ordinary but stern man. Whose power was sourced from not martial prowess or politics, but rather from the large pools of wealth the family holds.
And though Caim can see where that rings true, the Deruth Henituse that he’s known in his meager years of life is an affectionate man who has never once left the honeymoon phase with his wife. Only now he extends that same sappy love to share with his children.
Not that those two statements could be mutually exclusive, but there were aspects of a man, much less a minor character in the vast pages of a novel as rich in detail as The Birth of a Hero, that could not be expressed in a few simple lines. Such as the scruffy feel of his beard as Deruth kissed and cradled the top of Caim’s soft baby head.
Or the way the Count would show off to his wife and love of his life how he could carry both bundles of his sons in his arms and still have enough strength to swoop Drew in to kiss her (much to her admonishment later that it was dangerous and ‘You should be holding our children much more carefully, like they’re the jewels of our life’ and they might as well be with how much the two loved the red crowned pair of twins.)
The biggest red flag though, as bright and attention-drawing as their hair color, was his brother, Cale Henituse.
Cale was the first minor villain to make an appearance. A trashy young noble who had a penchant for alcohol and a lashing tongue much more vicious than anything he could physically throw. At least on paper.
In front of his eyes, Cale was a two year old child who was much more expressive and vocal than his younger twin Caim, yet never caused a ruckus as loud nor violent as the ones he would create ten years later.
It was difficult knowing the future of what one would become and still choosing to stand by them when they would grow up in ruin. But difficult did not mean impossible. And if anything it assured Caim’s resolve that he would stick by his brother, regardless of whatever happened or who he became.
His goal in this life was still the same as before: to live a peaceful slacker life. The conditions of that goal included that his people should be happy as well. And Cale, as well as the rest of his family definitely fell into the category of people Caim would make sure to look after.
Caim frowns thinking about the future. If this was truly the worldline of The Birth of a Hero, then a war was looming overhead that would break the peace persisting in the Western Continent for hundreds of years. It was an obvious concern, but Caim planned to stay out of it in a safe remote location. And if worse comes to worst, escape to the opposite side of the world.
However even before that, there were two pressing concerns.
The first was the role Cale Henituse would eventually grow up into: a lout. The reasons for it were never clearly stated, but starting around the age of 12 his twin brother would act out aggressively and scare servants, commoners, and even other nobles alike. His reputation would fall the more brash and rude he became until he was finally labeled trash, estranged by all. Even his family.
Cale was free to live how he pleased, but that did not mean he was happy. He would live a life in solitude, and his story would come to an end as his stubborn arrogance led to him getting beaten to a pulp by the protagonist.
Caim wouldn’t wish such a fate to anyone. Least of all his newly-found brother he’s become somewhat attached to.
Caim’s second personal problem was his mother, Drew Henituse. Drew was never once mentioned in writing. Because by the time the plot of the novel started, the Henituse family consisted of Caim’s father and brother who he’s already familiar with, as well as Deruth’s second wife Violan with her two children Basen and Lily.
Meaning that his birth mother was already out of the picture by then.
It was one thing when she was just a nameless obscure character in the background plot of the story. But now, Drew Henituse was his mother, his family. She was alive and real and warm in a way that could never be understood with ink on paper alone.
His mother may have never been directly penned down by the author, but her presence in Caim’s, no Kim Rok Soo’s records didn’t betray her existence. She was a real person in the same way that her love could be felt, gentle caresses and singsong lullabies so sweet it lingered in his mind wanting more.
Drew Henituse was an important person in Caim’s life. And she was going to die in the future.
That very thought guts his insides.
But then Caim thinks about his own existence. He’s someone who was never supposed to exist. At least, in the world of The Birth of a Hero.
Though Drew Henituse was someone who was never written about, she existed in passing thanks to the mention of Cale’s step-family. Caim Henituse was nowhere to be found at all. And for a man as thoroughly-detailed as Nelan Barrow, dedicating single lines to multiple pages and using particular wording to elaborate on even minor character’s backstories, Kim Rok Soo could not chalk it up to mere negligence.
In his perfect recollection of The Birth of a Hero, there was not a single mention of a twin brother that Cale once had, a missing or deceased child of Deruth’s, a person known as a Caim Henituse.
Caim’s existence was a singularity outside of the completed story. He shudders at the thought. A role like that was just begging to be dragged into the main plot in some way or another. Something he very much did not want and went completely against his wishes to be a nameless mob character living as a rich slacker.
He could use this to his advantage though. Caim’s life was outside of the plot. It was his own. He didn’t want to meddle in the affairs of the main character or any of his companions in a war a way’s off from happening. But Caim wants to overturn the premature death of his mother in the near future. He wants his brother to grow up happy and loved, not having to close himself off while he lives alone as trash.
If he had reincarnated as any other character, or rather person, Kim Rok Soo would have just quietly lived while avoiding trouble when it comes. But as Caim, his life was his reality, not something that could be bound by fate or a pre-written plot.
Using his knowledge, he would selfishly meddle at least this much in order to protect his family. It was worth giving it a shot.