Je suis un enfant de cette maison - Chapitre 2

Chapitre 2: Pink Eyes

I was a mere 23-year-old college student in my past life—at least that’s what I thought. But I couldn’t say for sure that I’d been reincarnated in this life. Though I’ was sure of it. The memories of my past were gradually developing.

I was three or four at the time when the first flashes of memories came to mind. People around me thought I was crazy, that I was a lunatic or that my mother dropped me. I’m eleven now. I’ve grown enough to ignore their remarks.

But this was my current situation.

My biological mother was hard to please. She’d dress in fanciful clothes and meet with multiple men who continue to provide her life of extravagance.

À elle, I was nothing more than a nuisance.

Non. That’s somewhat wrong.

She was interested in me enough to relieve her stress from her customers. Like an abused dog, she’d kick me several times.

“You should be thankful that you haven’t died yet,” she’d say.

Only once did I try to escape with a badly injured hand, but the alley was a dark, terrible place for an abandoned child to live in.

There were orphanages around, but would they accept me?

When a customer came, mother would drag me inside a dark, narrow box, and lock me inside. It was there that I became a shy and quiet child. I’d curl to a fetus position, listening to mother conducting business with her guests.

Depuis, I was afraid of the dark, afraid of the tight, narrow spaces.

‘If I didn’t have the memories of my past, I think I’ll end up crazy.’

I covered my legs which couldn’t reach the floor of the carriage.

Humans navigated the world through the things they learned. Without the memory of their previous lives, they’d surely have a speech impediment, a disorder, or some sort of mental illness.

Laughter… clear blue skies… sweet snacks… beautiful sceneries… loving family… all of them could be found in the memories of our past lives.

‘But I thought you’d at least have a bit of affection for your dog.’

pourtant, the reasons mother fed and raised me was not out of mere obligation nor the slightest bit of affection, but to extort from my biological father. I often wondered why… now I know. She wanted child support with interests.

That was her goal.

‘Child support, huh…’

The thought of it saddened me. I had tried everything. She was still my mother. I wanted her love and affection…

“Miss.”

At the soft voice, I raised my head and looked at the gentleman. It was Kelson, the man father appointed to be my handler. A part ça, I don’t know what would become of me. The information I have of this world was so meager.

“ Kazan , what did your mother call you?"

“…” I looked at him blankly, lips parted.

“ Kazan means no name , Manquer. What did your mother name you?"

Oh… that word means name . Kelson spoke many words I did not understand.

The language here was easy to learn, but I couldn’t find any knowledge of it in my previous life. Languages were not inherited but learned. Mother once said that she’d repeat a word ten thousand times to remember it.

But I didn’t expect much from her. pourtant, I managed to learn a bit of the language through the lens of an adult who’d gone to college.

Toujours, it had been difficult to learn the language through my own sheer effort.

The only conversations I could learn from were from my mother and her colleagues, but they spoke the language of the lower class. Hearing Kelson’s noble-like words stumped me.

“Pink eyes," J'ai dit.

Kelson’s face hardened. He cleared his throat and straightened his stiff back.

“I’ll have to inform His Grace to give you a new name.”