My First Child
Lakia.
The silver-haired, red-eyed beauty who never existed in the original work...
Before I discovered the map in the study, I had no idea what kind of world I had transmigrated into. I was living alone in the forest cabin.
It was when I was still getting used to the shock of my gender being flipped... that I adopted this lizard.
It was flapping its tail and trying to flip over, but its short legs were just spinning in mid-air.
“Kyrrk! Kyaaak!”
Poof.
A burst of flame shot from its mouth. The flames fizzled out weakly in the air, and the lizard startled, accidentally biting its own tongue.
“Kek.”
“Kek-kek.”
Aigoo... Sey... fooo...
Huh? Is it hungry?
The lizard’s eyes grew huge. I don’t know if it truly understood or just reacted to the sound.
Either way, it tried to nod, then immediately smashed its face into the ground.
“Kkuek.”
Heat rose from between the black scales. It wasn’t burned, but it felt warm, like a hand warmer.
I unraveled the vines and lifted the lizard into my arms.
“It’s so light.”
The lizard fit perfectly into my two palms. Its wings drooped, and its tail wrapped around my wrist. Up close, its face looked strangely pitiful.
The eyes were too big for a lizard, too long for a kitten. The scales looked soft, like they hadn’t hardened yet, and the horns were tiny, like fingernails. Charcoal dust clung thickly to its back.
“Krrrk……”
It rested its chin on my palm. A rumble came from its belly.
Krrrooo.
It turned its head slightly.
“You even know how to be embarrassed.”
I sighed and pulled the lizard into my arms. It was warm. The little heartbeat fluttered under my palm.
Dook. Dook. Dook.
Unsteady yet stubborn. The lizard clutched my collar with its front paw. The claws were small but enough to snag on the fabric. Soot and drool clung to its muzzle, and a few tears still lingered at the corners of its eyes. Thin smoke curled from its nostrils with every breath.
Poo. Kek. Poo-oo.
“Breathe properly. Isn’t that more important than breath?”
“Krrk.”
“Answering that way, you’re actually listening.”
It tried to bite my hair again. I yanked my head back quickly.
“That’s not food.”
“Ky?”
I ended up tying my hair higher. The walk back to the cabin while holding the lizard felt oddly long.
The lizard had been thrashing in my palm just moments ago, but now it was docile. Hungry? Out of energy? Or just because my arms were warm?
It would occasionally lift its head to look at the forest. Every time sunlight pierced the branches, its golden eyes sparkled. The small wings hung limp, but they twitched at the breeze.
“Can you fly?”
“Krrk.”
“Can’t.”
“Ky?”
“What’s with that face? Are you sad?”
I walked alone, asking myself, answering myself. It felt strangely natural.
Up until now, I rarely talked inside the cabin. I’d talk to myself, but the walls would just bounce it back.
Yet this tiny creature in my arms reacted. It made sounds, moved its head, wagged its tail—even if it didn’t truly understand the meaning.
“Still, don’t burn the table.”
“Krrk.”
“Sounds like you’re going to do that.”
The moment we reached the cabin, I set the lizard on the table. It spread its four legs and lay low.
Worried about the strange place, it scanned its surroundings. Fireplace, chair, window, ceiling, and the door to the study. Especially the fireplace.
The embers were almost gone, yet it stared at it without blinking.
“Do you like fire?”
“Krrk.”
“You breathe it out?”
It let out a rumble instead.
Krrrooo.
“Fine. Food first.”
I headed to the kitchen. There wasn’t much I could offer right away. Dried meat. Hard bread. Two boiled potatoes. Dried fruits. Water. And mushrooms I’d picked from the forest. I skipped the mushrooms for now—unsure if they were safe.
“You’ll eat meat.”
I sliced the dried meat into small pieces. The lizard sniffed the scent on the table.
Kkhh. Kkhh-kkhh.
Its eyes widened. I placed the meat on a plate and slid it toward it.
“Here.”
It opened its mouth. Fwoo. I grabbed a wet cloth and pressed the embers. Chiik. Smoke rose.
The lizard stared at the blackened meat, face full of shock.
“Fire-breathing lizards can’t even eat, huh?”
“Krrrk……”
“Don’t make that face. I’ll give you another.”
I sliced the second piece. This time I didn’t put it on the plate. I held it in my hand and brought it to its muzzle. Close up, its hot breath brushed my fingertips. The inner flame flickered. It felt like looking into a tiny furnace.
The lizard was cautious and kept its mouth from gaping too wide.
“Slowly.”
“Ky……”
“Hold your breath.”
I inhaled and closed my mouth. The lizard watched me intently.
“Like this.”
I demonstrated again. The lizard puffed out its tiny chest. Its cheeks rounded slightly, and the inner flame in its throat swayed.
“Good. Just like that.”
I fed it the meat. It closed its mouth. Umm. Umm. Gulped. Success. Its eyes sparkled.
“Krrk!”
“Mouth.”
It quickly closed it. Smoke puffed from its nose. Poo-ssh. I waved the smoke away with my hand.
“Breathe through your nose while eating. Got it?”
“Krrk.”
“Answers are good. The real test is doing it.”
The meal continued for a while. One piece of meat. Another. One more. The lizard, cautious at first, sped up once it learned the trick. Its chewing power was decent for its size. It chewed the dried meat thoroughly, swallowed, and opened its mouth again.
“You eat a lot for how small you are.”
“Krrk.”
“Don’t act proud. That’s my winter food.”
It seemed to listen, then stared at the meat again. I pulled the plate back a bit. Its front paw scratched the air. Short. Watching the flapping feet in mid-air made me feel sorry for it.
I took out the bread.
“Eat this too.”
It sniffed the bread. Kkhh. Its expression turned subtle.
“Why? Don’t like it?”
“Krrk……”
“If you only eat meat, you won’t grow.”
I stopped mid-sentence. Who am I scolding about growing up? A fire-breathing lizard? A mysterious creature I picked from the forest?
I pressed a hand to my forehead.
“I’m going crazy.”
The lizard saw its chance and crawled toward the meat. I pressed its forehead gently.
“Eat the bread too.”
“Krrk.”
It glared at the bread, face full of disdain. In the end, I soaked the bread in water and tore it into small bits. The lizard ate one piece carefully. Umm. Umm. It blinked. Not bad.
The second piece disappeared faster. The third it tried to grab with its paw and ended up squishing the bread.
“A.”
The lizard saw the crushed bread and me.
“It’s fine. You can eat it.”
I gathered the crumbs and brought them to its muzzle. It ate obediently. That sight strangely weakened me.
Dangerous. This is dangerous. Getting used to this face and reaction would be a problem. I only brought it here to monitor. To confirm what kind of being it is, deal with danger if it appears, and act before problems arise.
Yet here it was, tail wagging happily with bread crumbs on its muzzle.
I wiped its muzzle with my finger. It followed my finger and moved its head. Thinking of water, I poured some into a small bowl. It stared at the water for a long time, then touched its nose to the surface. Chiik. A little evaporated. The lizard startled and fell backward.
“Krrk!”
“You can’t even drink water?”
“Krrk……”
“That’s a bit harsh.”
I scooped water with a spoon, cooled it, and pressed it to its muzzle. The lizard cautiously stuck out its tiny red tongue and licked. This time it didn’t evaporate. Once. Twice. Three times. It slowly learned the way and drank. But midway it messed up its breathing.
“Kek.”
Smoke came from its muzzle.
“Breathe. Fix your breathing first.”
“Kek-kek.”
“Before we become a national disaster, learn how to breathe.”
I wiped its face with a wet cloth. The charcoal dust came off more than I expected. One wipe revealed a deep blue under the black scales. It shone like a deep night sky. The small horns were close to white, and its eyes were as clear as molten gold. Once the soot was gone, its pitiful look remained, but it looked a bit more like a proper creature.
The lizard rubbed its head against my palm. The hot scales brushed my fingertips. I froze for a moment. How long had it been this dependent on someone?
Since coming to this world, I’d been alone. I slept in the cabin bed alone, ate at the table alone, and walked the forest paths alone. Even when I muttered by the fireplace, I’d eventually shut my mouth.
Being alone in a strange body in a strange world for so long felt... long. But now there was a tiny creature on my palm. One that had to hold its breath while eating. One that made gravelly sounds while drinking water. One that would probably trip over its own tail. And maybe one that could one day burn down an entire city.
“……This is going to be troublesome.”
“Krrk.”
“That’s your problem.”
“Ky?”
“Looking at that face, it must be me who’s the bad one.”
I rested my chin on the table and watched the lizard. I needed to give it a name. I couldn’t keep calling it lizard. If it ever learned to understand, it might get upset at the title.
Firelighter. Charcoal Dust. Gravel. Breath Holder. All terrible.
“Name?”
“Krrk.”
“None, huh.”
I looked out the window. The sun was setting. A long streak of red light sank between the trees. When the light touched the table, the lizard’s scales sparkled faintly. Dark black. Black charcoal dust. Golden eyes. Unhardened small horns. And that strange, broken-sounding word.
I stared at it for a long time, then opened my mouth.
“Your name is Alduin.”
“……Krrk?”
I gave it a grand name, but it didn’t seem to understand.