A fleeting memory appeared in my dreams.

  In it, I saw myself celebrating a birthday party with children whose faces I could not recognize. The melody of “Happy Birthday to You” floated through the lively air while clay pi?atas were hung from an improvised pulley.

  My father held the rope at the far end of the pillar, and I struck the hanging object again and again.

  How nostalgic.

  That was my last childhood party. The following year, my father was already working as municipal president, and because of the political party he represented, many relatives turned their backs on us.

  There were no more celebrations after that.

  By the time his term ended, I was already in the city studying high school.

  I didn’t celebrate anything there either.

  I joined the political debate club and another mixed martial arts gym. Of course, every now and then they would sing Las Ma?anitas in the classroom or at the dojo, but it was nothing more than a brief courtesy—seconds later, everything returned to normal.

  Not in university, nor during my political career, did I receive another party.

  So the idea of celebrating with the new people I loved filled me with joy.

  “Wake up, wake up, brother…”

  Alda’s voice pulled me back to the present. I slowly opened my eyes and saw her standing there with a bright smile and a small box in her hands.

  “Alda?”

  “Yes! Happy birthday!” She hugged me sweetly.

  At that moment, Mother entered the room carrying a metal tray covered with eggs and bacon.

  “Happy birthday, my son. I’ve brought you breakfast in bed. Since it’s a special occasion, I cooked it myself. Enjoy!”

  Eh?

  Mother cooked?

  She was always busy with the kingdom’s affairs. We barely had time to speak outside meetings or dinner. Yet seeing her there with a large tray and a delicious breakfast made me appreciate her even more.

  Before being Regent, Girasol had chosen to be a mother.

  “Thank you, Alda… Mother…”

  “Open my gift after you finish eating! I told Gonzalo and Sir Marte you’ll have the day off. Girasol and I will prepare the midday party! Wait in your room until we call you.”

  My adorable older sister bounced with excitement, making me smile gratefully.

  I took the silver utensils and tasted Mother’s cooking.

  The texture of the eggs surprised me.

  What talent.

  These eggs were no less than those from my former life. In fact, the flavor was so familiar that for a moment I felt like I was eating at Don Pedrito, the most famous restaurant in Mexico.

  God.

  I was seconds away from crying.

  This nostalgia—food made by hand—was beautifully overwhelming. I hadn’t tasted something like this since my grandmother prepared carne asada at the ranch, back in that distant Mexican childhood that now lived only in memory.

  Love can improve any meal.

  And anyone who denies it has never truly been loved.

  “Enjoy your breakfast, son. We’ll come get you at noon for the party. Sleep a little more afterward if you’d like—today you won’t be working!”

  Mother left the room, Alda following shortly after with a grin from ear to ear.

  I closed my eyes and finished the eggs.

  I would remember this meal with deep affection.

  The first dish Mother ever cooked for me.

  “Eh…” I whispered. “I’ve grown more sensitive.”

  Without realizing it, I began to cry.

  I hadn’t felt this happy in a very long time.

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  I stood and walked to the mirror to see my reflection. I still wasn’t fully accustomed to this refined face and red hair—an appearance that was slowly becoming my everyday reality.

  Tears slid down my cheeks and fell onto the wooden desk.

  Having a loving mother is a blessing.

  I had never understood that in my first life.

  Now, I was one thousand percent certain.

  Enough sentimentality. Alda and Mother had worked hard to see me smile.

  I picked up my half-sister’s small box and opened it in a single motion.

  The old wooden lid came off easily.

  “Oh… interesting.”

  Inside was a rustic metal necklace shaped like an adult male lion, its mane etched somewhat clumsily around the snout. It wasn’t master craftsmanship—just a simple engraving in steel, made with great love.

  In recent days, I had seen Alda speaking with the castle blacksmith and visiting him during her free time. She must have been practicing to make something like this.

  It even came with a small chain.

  She had thought of everything.

  After placing the necklace carefully in my box of precious belongings, I picked up the large book I had yet to finish and immersed myself once more in its pages.

  I didn’t know how much of it was true and how much had been reshaped by time.

  For the people of this world, however, everything within those pages had truly happened.

  Gonzalo had his doubts. He believed events had not unfolded exactly as described. Still, he did not deny the existence of ancient magic or the vast battles and intrigues that once surrounded forgotten empires.

  “Brother, you can come now!”

  Alda’s voice broke my concentration.

  “Did you like my gift?”

  “Yes, it was beautiful. Thank you. I’ll keep it in my special memory box.” I took out the necklace and put it on. “And I’ll wear it during family occasions.”

  She smiled brightly and skipped toward the door.

  “Thank you! Come on, everyone’s waiting in the dining hall!”

  “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

  I slipped on my boots and followed her through the palace corridors. I hadn’t even changed clothes—I still wore my usual red doublet and dark hose, informal attire without heraldic lions everywhere.

  As we walked, the servants bowed.

  “Happy birthday, Your Highness,” they repeated.

  “Thank you.”

  They always looked surprised when I expressed gratitude.

  Was it unusual for a king to thank his servants?

  No one had scolded me for it yet, so I would continue.

  Part of me refused to lose the humility I once had—the proof that I had once been someone else, someone who had lived as a common man.

  “You’ve been reading that book for a long time. Is it good?” Alda asked.

  “Yes. I enjoy studying history, especially when it carries mythical undertones.”

  “I like some parts, but not all. I only read the stories about love and heroism. I love those! I hope I can live one someday.” She paused and sighed. “Politics, betrayals, magical theory—they bore me. That’s why I never finished it.”

  “I have to swallow all the politics. That’s what I’ll be doing for the rest of my life. Ugh.”

  I made a dramatic face, earning laughter from Alda—and subtle smiles from the guards.

  “Poor you, poor you, Your Majesty! But you can always count on me to waste time!”

  She tapped my shoulder and ran toward the hall.

  “A race!”

  As always, she ran first to secure victory.

  Maybe she did have a future in politics.

  “You’re a cheater!”

  No matter how fast I ran, my small legs couldn’t compete with her stride. Alda was tall for her age, while male growth spurts didn’t begin until fourteen.

  Upon arrival, I was greeted by a wooden banner reading:

  Happy Birthday

  Mother stood beside a cake. Next to her was Sora with a gift box. Sir Marte, still in armor, held a freshly embroidered heraldic tabard. Gonzalo carried a small book.

  “Congratulations, Your Highness!” Sora was the first to hug me.

  She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me gently against her chest.

  Damn it.

  If I were an adult, I would be blushing furiously.

  “Th-Thank you, Sora,” I murmured shyly.

  “I knitted you a scarf for winter. I made it with care.” Her smile was radiant. “So you won’t be cold, Your Highness.”

  She didn’t call me Ulric—not in front of Sir Marte and Gonzalo.

  Sir Marte handed me the folded tabard. When I unfolded it, I saw the red lion of my family rising proudly.

  Excellent craftsmanship. A gift worthy of a king.

  “My wife made it,” he said.

  “You’re married, Sir Marte?”

  “Yes. I thought you knew.”

  “We all knew, brother,” Alda whispered.

  “I—I see. Thank you. Please thank your wife as well.”

  He bowed and left to resume his duties.

  Gonzalo stepped forward next.

  “I heard you are reading A Story That Ended. I purchased a copy of Legends and Prophecies. It covers more recent legends from the late mythical era and early modern age. It also contains curious prophecies—more like poems. Whether true or not, they are interesting reading.”

  Prophecies.

  Could one mention me? My reincarnation?

  Even after months here, I still did not know why I had arrived.

  Perhaps there was no reason.

  Better not think about that now.

  Finally, Mother handed me her gift.

  Inside the medium-sized box lay something extraordinary.

  A beautifully crafted dagger.

  Golden hilt. Ruby pommel. Silver blade engraved with my name in cursive along the edge, resting in a crimson sheath.

  My first weapon.

  And a symbol of status.

  “I meant to give it to you when you were older,” Mother said, “but you have shown enough maturity. A king must never be unarmed. You are too small for a sword, but this will suffice.”

  “Thank you, Mother. I will use it to protect myself and my family.”

  Then we ate.

  Hamburgers once more.

  We did not sing birthday songs—those did not exist here.

  The burgers were excellent.

  The cake, however…

  The chocolate tasted different from my old world—natural, without preservatives or artificial coloring.

  Too natural.

  Not bad, but not good either.

  “The burgers were great. The cake… average.”

  Aura looked slightly disappointed but stepped forward bravely.

  “What was missing, Your Highness?”

  “Not too sweet—but not bitter either. My tongue is particular. For most people, it’s fine.”

  “Understood.”

  She took notes.

  She could write now.

  Gonzalo and she had taken lessons seriously.

  Something might happen soon… perhaps.

  “I liked the cake!” Alda said, face smeared with chocolate.

  Mother ate with impeccable elegance, spotless as ever.

  I am a fortunate boy.

  Spending the day with them filled me with warmth.

  Their smiles—Mother’s, Alda’s, Sora’s, Gonzalo’s—lit something inside my chest.

  I had never felt so loved.

  Was this what a happy birthday felt like?

  What had I been doing in my past life?

  Why hadn’t I experienced something like this during my final years?

  I had been so focused on work, on ideals, on ambition, that I missed what truly mattered—until I fell to criminal gunfire.

  In a way, this was a second chance.

  I hated to admit it.

  I truly did.

  But…

  Perhaps reincarnating wasn’t such a bad idea.

  Seeing them smile beside me made me grateful for life—for the first time.