Reincarnation

His consciousness sank as though into a warm, viscous swamp, slowly and irreversibly swallowed by darkness.

The last thing he remembered was collapsing exhausted onto the single bed in his cheap rented room after work, the screen still flickering with an unfinished PowerPoint and his supervisor's spiteful instant messages.

Another night of endless overtime. Another profound lesson in what it meant to be a corporate drone.

His surname was Li, his given name unremarkable, and his life equally forgettable. Within China's vast, fast-moving social machine, he was nothing more than an insignificant cog, repeating the cycle of commuting, working, eating, and sleeping day after day. His dreams had long since been worn down to the humble hope of weekends off and wages paid on time.

He had imagined escaping countless times. Perhaps he would win the lottery, or find a job he genuinely loved. In the small hours, scrolling through webnovels, he had even entertained the absurd thought of waking up like their protagonists in another world of swords and magic. Even if he had a rough start, at least he could live differently and escape this suffocating reality.

Yet death had arrived so silently that it had not even given him a chance to say goodbye.

There had been no truck, no lightning strike, no heroic rescue. During a deep sleep after utter exhaustion, the candle of his consciousness had simply gone out, like a system crashing-cleanly, abruptly, without a ripple.

Perhaps it had been overwork. Perhaps some hidden illness. The cause no longer mattered.

What mattered was that when his consciousness flickered weakly back to life, like a dying candle in the wind, he faced a reality utterly beyond his imagination, more absurd even than his worst nightmare.

He had "woken up," but this awakening was full of strangeness and discomfort.

First came the confusion of his senses. His vision was blurry, as though he were looking through frosted glass, and he could barely distinguish outlines of light and shadow and vivid patches of color.

A noisy heartbeat pounded in his ears, strong and powerful, yet utterly unfamiliar. It was nothing like the exhausted heart he remembered, kept running for years on caffeine and anxiety.

Then came a maddening sense of helplessness. He wanted to raise a hand to rub his eyes, to turn his neck and look around, but his limbs felt bound by invisible shackles, impossibly heavy. All he could manage were tiny, uncontrolled twitches.

Even more frightening, he could not speak. His throat produced only meaningless coos and babbles, just like... just like a baby.

Panic flooded his mind like an icy tide.

A baby? Had he become a baby? What was happening? Reincarnation? Transmigration? After a brief moment of stunned confusion, his survival instinct forced him to calm down and begin piecing together this shattered reality.

He blinked hard, trying to bring his blurred vision into focus.

After a difficult struggle, the scene before him gradually grew clearer.

It was an extravagantly luxurious room, with a lofty ceiling adorned with exquisite murals and an elaborate crystal chandelier casting soft, warm light.

Beneath him lay soft silk bedding with a faint fragrance.

The room's decor leaned toward a classical Western style. Heavy velvet curtains were drawn shut, blocking out the light outside.

Several oil paintings hung on the walls, apparently landscapes and portraits, but they were too far away for him to make out the details.

This was a magnificent cage, and he was its prisoner, unable even to roll over.

He was a baby with an adult's mind, and that enormous disconnect nearly drove him to a breakdown.

Those stories he had read in which protagonists displayed prodigious talent while still infants now seemed only absurd and agonizing.

He could neither communicate nor control even his most basic bodily needs-hunger and excretion-and could only rely on instinctive crying to attract attention.

For a modern adult accustomed to independence, this state of total dependence and incapacity was a torment worse than death.

He forced himself to observe and gather information. His gaze swept every corner of the room, searching for anything that might explain his circumstances.

Finally, his eyes settled on an elegantly crafted wooden calendar hanging on one wall.

The calendar was made from fine materials, but one combination of letters and numbers pierced deep into his memory like a needle.

C.E. 56

C.E... Cosmic Era?

That abbreviation... why did it feel so familiar, yet carry such an ominous sense of foreboding?

He desperately searched his memories. As a typical corporate drone, he had limited time for entertainment, but not none.

Anime, games, and movies had all been ways for him to relieve stress.

And the C.E. dating system seemed to play a central role in a certain work... one filled with war, tragedy, political infighting, and... giant robots.

His heart suddenly raced, almost bursting through the chest of his tiny body.

No... it couldn't be... A terrifying thought slithered into his mind like a venomous snake, chilling him to the bone.

He tried to recall more details about the Cosmic Era and that world's setting... Coordinators, Naturals, ZAFT, the Earth Alliance, genetic discrimination, bloody conflict... A succession of terms surfaced uncontrollably, each carrying a crushing weight.

Just as his mind descended into chaos, thrown into turmoil by this sudden suspicion, the door opened gently.

The footsteps were light. The first person to enter was a young woman in a standard maid's uniform.

She had an attractive face, but her expression was somewhat restrained and submissive. When she saw him lying in the crib, an almost imperceptible trace of pity flashed through her eyes, quickly replaced by professional deference.

She approached the crib and checked his condition with practiced ease. Her movements were gentle, yet carried the detached air of someone performing a routine duty.

A tall figure entered behind her, bringing an intense sense of pressure. He was a middle-aged man who looked about forty, dressed immaculately in a well-tailored dark suit.

His face was handsome and sharply defined, his short blond hair neatly combed. His blue eyes were keen as a hawk's, yet bottomless, radiating a chilling coldness and indifference.

He carried the air of someone accustomed to command, mingled with an indescribable arrogance and... disgust.

Yes, disgust.

When the man's gaze fell on him, there was none of a new father's joy or affection in it. There was only undisguised scrutiny, along with the faultfinding dissatisfaction of someone examining a defective product.

Even through an infant's blurred senses, he could clearly feel that bone-piercing chill.

"Hmph." The man gave a barely audible snort, full of contempt. "Still like this? What an eyesore."

His voice was low and resonant, but his tone was icy. "He looks more and more like that worthless Mu."

Mu?!

The name exploded in his mind like a second thunderclap.

If "C.E. 56" had merely prompted a deeply ominous association, the name "Mu" had all but nailed that terrible suspicion to the cross of reality.

Mu La Flaga-the man who piloted the Moebius Zero and later became a key fighter aboard the Archangel, the man with a complicated past who "made the impossible possible"!

Ignoring any reaction he might have, the man turned to the maid and issued an order, his tone decisive and unquestionable. "Listen carefully. Starting today, you will 'educate' him strictly according to the plan I devised. I want him to grow up as quickly as possible and become a worthy heir, someone who can surpass-no, completely replace-Mu. The Flaga Family has no need for two worthless sons, especially at this critical moment."

The maid bowed her head respectfully. "Yes, sir."

"Give him a name," the man said, apparently on a whim. His gaze swept over the crib again with a careless cruelty. "Let's call him... Xia Ya. Hopefully he'll at least be more useful than that cloned older brother who's only fit to scrape out an existence in the shadows."

Xia Ya? Was it because this body had inherited that same distinctive blond hair and blue eyes?

Or did the name itself carry some malicious irony or twisted expectation?

He had no way of knowing, nor did he want to know.

The man continued issuing instructions, all concerning how to raise him, what ideas to instill in him, and what role to assign him in the future.

Every word was an icicle piercing through his last shred of hope.

C.E. 56.

Mu.

The Flaga Family.

Replacing his older brother as heir.

Blond hair and blue eyes.

A cold, ambitious, middle-aged "father" who regarded familial affection as worthless.

All the clues came together, forming the picture he least wanted to see.

He suddenly realized that this cold middle-aged man was undoubtedly Al Da Flaga, the notorious schemer of the SEED World who had orchestrated the cloning project, whose treatment of both his biological and cloned sons was deeply warped, and who even intended to use them to fulfill his ambitions!

And he, the unlucky soul who had just reincarnated into another world, had not only failed to obtain the peaceful life he had dreamed of, but had plunged headfirst into the abyss of Mobile Suit Gundam SEED, a universe filled with war, hatred, conspiracies, betrayal, and despair.

Worse still, he had been reborn as Al Da Flaga's son and Mu La Flaga's "younger brother"-this baby now named Xia Ya!

The year was C.E. 56. There were fourteen years until the First Bloody Valentine in C.E. 70, and fifteen until the Battle of Jachin Due in C.E. 71.

This was precisely the period when tensions between Coordinators and Naturals grew ever more intense, and the clouds of war gathered thick overhead.

Far from being an outsider, he had been born into the very heart of the storm, and into a family infamous for tragedy and twisted relationships!

There was no pastoral idyll here, no carefree everyday life, no gentle, charming elves or girls with animal ears.

What awaited him was a brutal society ruled by genetic determinism, an all-out war that could erupt at any moment, the original sin and curse he would bear under the Flaga name, a controlling father who saw him as a tool, and an "older brother," Mu, whose future was filled with confusion and suffering.

The reincarnation he had hoped for was an escape from life as a corporate drone, a chance to find comfort and freedom for his soul.

Instead, reality had dealt him a resounding slap, pushing him out of one inferno and into another, this one set to hellish difficulty.

Becoming Al Da Flaga's son, being raised as Mu's "replacement" and potential rival, being born at this point in time... this starting scenario had death flags planted all over it!

An unprecedented sense of despair seized him.

His adult reason and awareness had become the heaviest shackles of all.

He knew exactly where this world was heading. He knew the Flaga Family's tragic fate. He knew the merciless brutality of war.

He could see a track leading toward destruction, one almost impossible to leave, and he was firmly strapped to this train called "fate," hurtling toward its destined abyss.

He wanted to shout, to resist, to escape, but his tiny body could not even form clear syllables. All he could do was continue crying meaninglessly.

This time, the crying was no longer an infant's instinct. It came from the deepest terror and collapse of an adult soul.

Tears spilled uncontrollably from his eyes, blurring his vision and the luxurious, cold murals on the ceiling.

The lavish crib now resembled a gilded cage-or, more fittingly, an exquisite coffin, announcing the tragic end of his life in this other world before it had even begun.

It's over... he wailed silently. My life in another world... ended on its very first day. This isn't reincarnation at all. This is... a one-way trip straight to hell!

Al Da Flaga glanced coldly at the crying infant, utterly unmoved, then turned and left the room, leaving the maid behind with him in his absolute despair.

The world beyond the window remained silent, but for "Xia Ya" Flaga, life had already been stained with the bottomless gray and blood-red hues unique to the SEED Universe.