Chapter 1

I lay in the hospital bed, acutely aware of the ebbing tide of life, as my senses gradually dulled. So, this is what dying feels like. Before everything faded away, I wondered if I would pass as they do in the TV dramas, with a gentle tilt of the head and then... gone. But I couldn't find out because consciousness had already begun to slip away from me.

...

I awoke in darkness after what seemed both like an eternity and an instant. What was happening? I heard a woman crying. "Don't take my child away..." 

A peculiar, high-pitched voice responded, "Miss Sia, this is the only way for the young mistress to survive... The master won't even spare you! If he finds this place... Oh—" The voice quivered, as though remembering something dreadful.

The woman's voice grew weaker, murmuring something incoherent. 

"Miss Sia, this is the last thing Tito can do for you. Tito will ensure the young mistress is taken somewhere safe, at least in the Muggle world, she will be safe..." 

Were they speaking English? My mind, sluggish and foggy, couldn't fully comprehend. I tried to open my eyes to understand what was being said, but exhaustion overwhelmed me, pulling me back into the darkness.

...

When I awoke again, I stared at my tiny hands in bewilderment. It seemed I had crossed over to another life. Was this fortune? I had retained my memories. Was it misfortune? I had to grow up all over again.

I recalled the brief conversation I'd overheard during my first moment of clarity. The crying woman must have been my mother. Judging by the current surroundings, which resembled an orphanage, it appeared I had been abandoned.

The cacophony of crying babies was maddening. I was always so quiet, I thought disdainfully.

Life as an infant was dreadfully dull. Eat, sleep, wake to the sound of wailing, think, eat, sleep, think again. Once I had grasped my situation, I assessed my physical condition. Limbs intact, sensations normal, no apparent anomalies – it seemed safe to conclude I was healthy.

My previous life, brief and plagued by illness, ended peacefully as I ceased breathing in front of my parents. Though we had prepared for it, my departure surely brought them pain. If loss was inevitable, perhaps it was better they forgot me completely. At least they wouldn't endure the agony of burying a child.

Now, I could only hope my younger brother would soothe the sorrow my absence had caused.

I didn't stay in the orphanage long, as a young couple soon took me home. They must have adopted me.

From now on, these are my parents, I told myself.

The Hill couple was ordinary. The husband, Hughes, had a stable job, while the wife, Isaya, was a stay-at-home mother. Not wealthy, but not poor.

They treated me well. For whatever reason, they had no biological children, so I became the Hill's only daughter, Sawyer Hill.

Hughes was a tall, lean man with a lively disposition, black hair, and warm brown eyes that were always smiling. He loved coming home from work and lifting me into the air, spinning me around until I giggled with delight. 

Isaya was a gentle woman with long, flaxen hair and deep brown eyes. Her voice was soft, and her demeanor endearing. Despite her complaints about housework, she always took it upon herself to do it. Besides housework, she spent her time teaching me to speak, engaging me in conversation even when all I could manage were incoherent babbles.

My hair was black, my eyes deep brown – a perfect blend of my parents. No wonder they chose to adopt me. With a family like this, I couldn't help but feel extraordinarily lucky.

Learning to speak again, and in English no less, was a painful process but ultimately rewarding. I practiced diligently, crawling before walking, striving to read early. As a result, I learned to read and exhibited athletic prowess sooner than most children.

In my past life, a severe congenital heart condition had plagued my childhood, preventing me from running freely. I had been a quiet, well-behaved child, never joining my peers in play or sports. In this new life, with a healthy body, I could relish all the joys of childhood without restraint.

I kept my black hair short, preferred trousers to pretty dresses, and had an unusual fondness for physical activity – which, at five years old, mostly meant running and jumping around. Hughes and Isaya would often smile wryly and say, "You're just like a little boy."

I integrated well with the neighborhood children, despite feeling somewhat sheepish about playing with a bunch of toddlers. 

But now, I was just a toddler myself, at least outwardly. I had to fit in, didn't I?