Some time after waking up, with unanswered questions still spinning in his head, Aron heard the voices of a man and a woman talking.
They must be his new father and mother.
He had already had a father, a mother, and a sister before he died.
Someone might wonder how he could call other people his parents.
Well, he had died. Everything he had in the other world didn't exist here.
Now he was in another body, being raised by different people and receiving their love, just as parents would give to their children.
But that didn't mean he would forget his former parents.
He might be in another world, living a new life in a different body, but his soul and his memories were still the same.
He would never forget his parents from Earth, nor would he abandon the feelings they had for him—and he for them.
But if he was receiving love and care from a woman who gave birth to him and a man who was taking care of them, why not give himself the chance to return that love?
After reflecting for a while, Aron decided he would live as he always had: returning kindness with more kindness, and cruelty with even greater cruelty.
'Now, what I need to do is observe and listen.'
After all, he needed to learn to understand what they were saying.
But with his vision still blurry, for now he could only listen and notice how often certain words were repeated.
He had already seen a young man who was likely his father.
'Hmm… very handsome. Not as handsome as my mother, but he has his charm.'
Every two days, in the morning, he would leave and return at night.
And on those days, a woman a bit older than his mother would come to help her.
She was also very beautiful. She had wavy dark brown hair at shoulder length, green eyes, and a well-defined body.
'She must exercise to have a body like that.'
The weather was still cold, but inside the house, they didn't wear that many clothes.
Two months passed with this routine.
'It's been three months since I was born. My vision is much better now. I can already focus on things farther away. My body is stronger, and I can even sit up for a while before losing my balance.'
During that time, the weather began to warm up, and it wasn't as cold as before.
Winter was coming to an end, and that was a good thing.
'I've also learned some simple words like "hi," "good morning," and "are you hungry?" among many others. The frequency with which they say these words, along with certain actions, makes it easier to form associations.'
'The annoying part is that I still can't control my bladder or my bowels. But why would I even try to control that? Am I supposed to hold it in and then sneak off when no one's looking, do my business outside, clean myself up, and come back to bed without anyone noticing? Give me a break. I'm still a long way from that. For now, I just have to accept this prison of flesh.'
A few more weeks passed.
One morning, his father was leaving as usual. His mother was holding him in her arms as she went to say goodbye.
He wore a leather vest on his upper body, with what looked like a linen coat over it. On his back, he carried a bow and a quiver full of arrows, along with a dagger strapped to his body.
As they spoke, Aron understood a few words, such as: "I'm going," "it's okay," "everything will be fine," and "come back safe."
Over these four months, he had learned his father's name: Arthur. His mother's was Sabrina, and the woman who came to help was Matilda.
His own name couldn't have been more obvious. He was even a little surprised when they started calling him. The pronunciation was slightly different, but he was sure—it was the same as in his past life—Aron.
After all, they said that name frequently.
'Even a dog—if you give it a name and repeat it enough—eventually associates that word with itself.'
But that day, something felt off.
During winter, every two days his father would leave and return the same night.
With the end of winter, he started leaving every day. He would come back in the afternoon for lunch, then leave again and only return before sunset.
Even so, his mother had never seemed as nervous as she did now.
When his father finished talking to her, he turned to Aron, gently pinched his nose, and said a few words that he managed to understand: "protect," "mother," "boy," and "strong." Then he kissed his forehead, kissed his mother, and left.
'Very strange… why does it feel like he's going off to war?'
Time passed.
His mother took care of him and the housework. The house had four rooms: a living area, where he slept in a hammock at night; a kitchen right behind it; a bedroom to the right of the living area; and a storage room for supplies next to the kitchen.
In the kitchen, there was a door that led to the backyard.
Night fell, and there was no sign of his father.
The next day, it was the same.
His mother didn't seem worried, so it was probably nothing serious.
A few days later, still with no sign of him, his mother would take him out for walks around the village from time to time.
He saw some children playing in the square, fighting with invisible swords or throwing imaginary things while shouting certain words.
To him, it didn't look fun at all.
But to them, it certainly was.
Then, on the way back from one of those walks, they passed by a field where some adults were planting seeds across a large area.
Up to that point, everything was normal.
Then, a woman raised her right hand toward the sky.
In her hand, she held a piece of wood.
She said a few words that Aron didn't understand.
'Another language I don't know… are they bilingual?'
Shortly after, the tip of the wood began to glow.
Then clouds started forming about thirty meters above the ground.
Soon after, it began to rain over the field.
It wasn't a heavy rain—just enough to moisten the soil.
Aron looked at that scene.
Then he tilted his head up and looked at the sky, where the afternoon sun was still high.
'Am I having heatstroke?'
He looked at the clouds again.
They were still dripping water just a few meters away.
Then he looked at the people, who kept working as if nothing unusual was happening.
'Yeah… this is definitely heatstroke.'