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Chapter 1: Life is (not) a miracle​

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**The Empire 24 September, Unified Year 1913 **​

The first thing I felt when I regained consciousness was a baby’s cry. A newborn, judging by the sound of his voice.

Mentally, I wondered what had happened, where I was and when. Perhaps the time that had stopped and the dialogue with God had been all a hallucination. Perhaps I survived, and now I was in a hospital to treat my wounds. If so, I was hoping not to have lost something important (like a limb) in the act of being run over by the train.

I tried to remember with greater precision what had happened, but I could not do it. My mind felt confused, in such a way that I had never felt. I tried to open my eyes and move myself, but somehow all I could see were shades of color and my muscles did not respond to my commands.

Now I was scared.

Perhaps, in being run over by train, my body had been damaged beyond its ability to heal. Would I be condemned to live in a bed and feed myself intravenously for the rest of my life? I tried to scream, but my own tongue betrayed me, refusing to move as I wanted.

"Sh-sh-sh-sh, little Frederick. You do not want to start crying too?" said the voice of an old, kind woman which I did not recognized. Nor did I recognize the name she had said.

I tried once again to open my mouth, to cry for help. In vain. Somehow, I had forgotten how to speak.

"Sister, please take care of our little prince while I feed little Tanya" the woman of before said.

"Yes sister," said another female voice, apparently younger.

Trying to understand what was going on around me, I tried to move my head to the right. It was then that I saw the mirror. My vision had cleared, so I had no trouble recognizing the figures in the reflection.

A nun in a black and gray dress was holding a baby in her arms, and she looked at him with a protective look. The baby was dressed into a yellow baby dress, and he looked in the direction of the mirror with a curious expression. I took a closer look. The child had a very pale complexion, with green eyes and a tuft of black hair. And kept looking in the mirror.

It was then that I realized what had really happened. Now everything made sense: that child... it was me!

No, it could not be. I could not really be reincarnated in a child’s body! I was an adult! I was a man on the road to earn his place in the company. They could not bring me back to life a few months old!

But the truth was before my eyes. I had returned to before my degree, before school, before I could read and write, and even before I was potty-trained. I would have to start my life back from scratch, and it was not a good thought. Worse, if ...

Before I could complete my reasoning, I felt something enter my mouth. Looking at the nun, I realized it was a spoon. She was feeding me like a baby! And I could not resist. The nun kept filling the spoon of food and feeding me, and I would be lying if I said that the experience was the most humiliating thing I had ever suffered.

"Sh, little Frederick, no need to cry right now" the younger nun said.

But I was not listening.

​

**The Empire, Unified Year 1913-1918 **​

The next five years were not hard. They were much more than hard.

Being an adult in the body of a newly born child was a disgusting and humiliating experience. And it was even more that I did not have full control over my own body and my mental abilities. For the next four years, the most appropriate definition to define my new life was "retro-infantilist nightmare"

Every day, the nuns made us get up at dawn. The first activity of the morning was a half an hour of prayer dedicated to God: some boys took turns reading pieces of sacred texts, others did the chorus and the rest remained listening in silence. Those who read the sacred texts were the most favored in terms of food and pampering, but this attitude of "collaborationism" invariably created feelings of envy and resentment in the other boys, who for this reason often did not want to have anything to do with the readers of sacred texts, who therefore formed a separate group.

Much better was to be part of the choir: they also received better bread, but in return they were much more accepted than the readers and could hope to play with other children. The problem was that the choir was a group of elite: only those who had the sweetest and most melodious voices could access it. An old nun in a black dress, Sister Liesel, was running the chorus, and no child could hope to be part of it without first letting her hear their own voice. Many were those who tried, and many of them were rejected. I did not even try: I knew when something was out of my reach.

After the morning prayers, we all had breakfast together. Each of us was given a piece of black bread, and to drink we had to share the little water available in the carafes. The nuns ate on a very long table, and the privileged children ate with them. Being able to have lunch with the nuns was not just a way to show one’s degree of privilege. It also meant being able to have lunch in complete safety, away from the small thefts and quarrels that invariably took place at the other tables. I can assure you that it is not nice being distracted for a second and then discover that others have stolen your whole portion. I know it from personal experience.

After breakfast, the sisters began their daily activities of "Ora et Labora", while we children had lessons under the watchful guidance of Sister Nora, our teacher. The lessons were long and heavy, yet none of us was distracted or escaped from the lesson. The reason was to be found in the heavy wand with which Sister Nora was pleased to give us "incentives" to study through strikes on the arms or the bottom. As before, I know it from personal experience.

The lessons lasted on average throughout the morning, until lunchtime arrived. Naturally, before we could eat we had to intonate a deep prayer of thanks to God our Lord, as thanks for making sure we could eat. Personally, I did not see how it was possible to thank someone who made sure that we always had soup with sawdust flavoring, but I kept my mouth shut.

After lunch, the afternoon was dedicated to the leisure time: the children were left free to play in the halls of the orphanage, or outside, in the neighboring meadow. I never went out: apart from the fact that, as an adult in a child’s body, the games of other children did not attract me, I knew all too well the main functions of a courtyard of a structure dedicated to welcoming young human beings.

It was there that gathered the strongest, most violent and overbearing individuals of the orphanage. Those who lived thanks to their ability to instill fear in others. Most of them were part of the older boys, those who had been repeatedly reprimanded (even physically) by the nuns for misbehavior. Not that this stopped them: as soon as the nuns turned their gaze away, the bullying began again.

Being a bully was not a bad position. It gave you extra food, and if you knew how to intimidate your victims in the right way, nobody would ever know about your bullying. However, I was out since the start: obviously the Being X had a distorted sense of humor, because the body in which he had reincarnated me was too sweet and cute to intimidate someone. It was impossible for me to be accepted by the other bullies as one of them: At best, they would have laughed at me, at worst ... best not think about it.

Finally, when the sun went down and the sky turned red, the nuns let us come back for dinner. Obviously, this was usually boiled vegetable soup. It was not a good thing to get in the front of the queue: you only had water. Near the end was sometimes better, because the solid things were at the bottom. However, it was also a risk, because often they ran out before everyone was served. Moreover, if you dropped your soup on the floor, or someone else spilled it, you would not be given any more portions. There were often fights for this exact reason.

After dinner, the nuns gave the order to go to bed. Impossible to disobey: only a ghost could have avoided the curfew patrols, as well as the bolt at the dormitory doors. Rather it was better to hope that someone, taking advantage of you sleeping, would not play a prank only to be discovered in the morning. A good strategy to avoid this was to fall asleep last, when you were sure that everyone had already fallen asleep, and wake up first when the rooster was singing at dawn.

But it was impossible to distinguish between those who really slept and those who only pretended. ​

---

There was only one hope for an orphaned boy to improve his social status: to be adopted.

Every so often at the orphanage came single adults, young couples without children or unable to have them naturally, all united by the desire to have one. For a child without parents, orphaned and without love, being adopted was like winning the lottery. Being adopted guaranteed you family, hot meals, a warm bed and lastly a general improving in our life condition.

On the other hand, the improvement of our social conditions was relative, because the new world in which I was reborn was not exactly an Eden.

Apparently, it was very similar to the geopolitical situation before the First World War of my previous world. The orphanage in which I lived was in the suburbs of the capital of the nation known as «the Empire». Its territories border contained the Germany, the Denmark, a piece of Sweden, the Netherlands (with Belgium and Luxemburg), and then a big piece where, in my world, existed the East Europe.

A real great central European power, recognized by many. And for this, with many enemies.

For this reason, and in line with the logic of the time, the Empire was a militant nation that invested considerable resources into its military even when not at war. Many were serving in the army, either as volunteers or as conscripts. Others worked in war factories, or in forges, or in coal and iron mines to support production. I had never seen a coalmine before, but I knew there were children working there too. It was logical if you thought about it: there were no conventions or laws in favor of minors, and for this reason, child labor was still a reality.

Many orphan children ended up working in the mines. The owners of these infernal places were among the most frequent visitors of the orphanage, looking for new workers. They were mostly looking for strong and robust children, who could withstand 14-hour shifts without dying from fatigue.

From this fate, until now my pretty face had protected me. The owners of mines and factories did not want their workers to be beautiful, and therefore, until I volunteered myself, I was sure on that front.

Moreover, I was facilitated from another.

A pretty face not only is a deterrent for men looking for little slaves to work as mules, but it has a marvelous effect on couples looking for children to adopt.

One day I discovered that a couple of young citizens who were not able to have children came to the orphanage in search of a child to be adopted. Of course, I did not know all this. I discovered it only when one of the nuns came to take me in the office of the mother superior.

When I entered the room, I found myself facing the following scene: The mother superior was seated in her place, and smiled. Sitting in front of her were a woman in a green dress and a man in a gray suit, who turned as soon as the door, creaking, betrayed my presence. The woman looked at me with eyes full of excitement, while the man looked at me with admiring glances. Never had they seen such a cute child.

"Oooh, but he’s adorable!" said the woman touching my hairs "Hello little boy, what’s your name?"

"F-Frederick. Frederick König" I said, trying to stay calm.

"A boy so beautiful is certainly a rarity," said the man, smiling.

That was enough. In less than half an hour, the two adults had filled in and signed the documents for my adoption. They could not take me away with them right away, but within a week, I would be theirs. ​

---

For a few days, I was happy. I thought I could finally leave the orphanage and start a new life somewhere, with parents who would love me and take care of me

Sadly, it was too good to be true.

It had been four days since the couple had come to visit the orphanage, that the nuns received an urgent message. Apparently, during the journey back to the capital, the car on which the couple traveled went off the road, crashing into a tree. Both had died in the accident and their family members did not want to adopt a twice-orphaned child.

Therefore, my hope of leaving was gone. I would hardly have found another couple willing to adopt me.

I was in the dorm when Sister Anna came to tell me the bad news. No matter how much he tried to soften the bad news, it was a conviction for me

Without meaning to, I turned my thoughts on «Being X» and its damn reincarnation. He promised to put me in dire straits, and until now, he seemed to have kept his promise. Being adopted and returning orphaned in less than a week was a real record. If I had been a common child, I probably would have had a nervous breakdown.

I was so busy in my thoughts that I did not notice the figure behind me.

"Eh-ehm!" someone cleared her throat.

I turned quickly. Behind me there was a girl about my age. She was very pretty, her vivid icy blue eyes were huge and her blond hair had a hint of gray in it. She looked almost like a princess in a fairy tale, not an abandoned orphan.

"Yes?" I said still thinking about my bad luck "What do you want?"

"Satisfy my curiosity: is there any chance that you are a young boy who has been reincarnated?"

I gulped, looking at her with an amazed look, before realizing who was in front of me.

"Sir?" I said chuckling innocently.

She nodded. ​

---

Apparently for a long time the manager (now Tanya Degurechaff, a little blond-haired orphan girl) had been watching me. I had also hypothesized that he could be in the orphanage, but I had not considered that «Being X» could have changed his gender as well. Therefore, I was not prepared for it.

We were alone, and we talked in a low voice about what had happened to us. And on what we would do.

"Our prospects for advancement if we remain here are poor," Tanya said, looking on the floor.

"I agree. The food is terrible, and the beds are uncomfortable. Moreover, I do not know how to bad-rate it" I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

The next thing I knew, she punched me on my side "I am being serious! Maybe you did not realize it, but things are about to go worse than this!"

"Worse?" I asked incredulous "We have been reincarnated in the bodies of two orphans. We have no home, no family, no means to feed ourselves. We will probably be forced to live in horrible living conditions and our future, without the possibility to develop our education, is bleak. How could it be worse?"

"War" she said without batting an eye. Okay, that is worse.

"Have you realized or not that since some time, the nuns have been worried about bread prices?" she continued "And that they are preparing to host a larger number of children? In your opinion, why?"

It was then that I realized that Tanya was right. After all, we lived in the world where the great powers became increasingly hungry for resources, and where patriotism and nationalism were more common than colds.

"Damn" I said while the reality of the situation hit me as hard as the train that ended my previous life "What are we going to do? Defenseless orphans do not last long in war!"

"You realized it," said Tanya in a snarky tone "It is probable that we will only be able to rely on our strengths and our abilities"

"Wait" I said, still holding a little hope "Maybe we will find a couple of generous hosting parents, and they…"

"Will take us?" Tanya ended my sentence, "With a war on its way, it is improbable that someone decides to adopt other mouths to feed. On the contrary, it is likely that this place will get more crowded"

I groaned. It was the second time she was right. This meant that it was better for me to think what I was going to say more carefully.

"This is all Being X’s fault!" said Tanya, suddenly furious "He was the one to put us in these bodies in this wrecked world! I’ll prove it to him, I’ll survive, and I’ll…"

I put my hand over her shoulder, drawing her attention.

"How about focusing more on our immediate future?" I said, "If it’s like you say, would not it be better to think about how to make a living than about how to take revenge? In addition, I do not think that challenging someone so powerful is a good idea, for now".

"Do not tell me you really believe that he is God," she said almost spitting the word «God».

"I believe in God, but Being X is not my God" I said, exhaling rage "The true God would never have been so arrogant and intransigent!"

And for the first time since I knew her, Tanya laughed.​