I am the Newly Born Woman of Around Thirty c2

Some time has pa.s.sed.

I’m not familiar whether j.a.pan’s ever had a prohibition period or not but… Whatever?

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The following days pa.s.sed by quickly, and six months had pa.s.sed.

Originally, it was an age where one wouldn’t know of the world’s sourness or sweetness.

While protected, a baby was fine if it just slept and cried.

But on the inside was the around 30 years old me. It wasn’t going to go that smoothly.

Why didn’t my palate get reset too, I was troubled with how s.h.i.+tty bad the milk tasted.

Plainly speaking, it was a life or death situation, reason being my only source of nutrients was milk.

An infant who hated milk was the equivalent to an ant hating anteater.

But in the beginning without considering any of those things, I stubbornly rejected it. Cuz, it was gross enough to die.

When it seemed like they would force me, I brandished my hands and feet and resisted.

It wasn’t alcohol hara.s.sment, but milk hara.s.sment! I was being indignant.

But after I, who wouldn’t drink milk, learned that the graceful woman―my mother of this lifetime―was declining in health because of my actions, I deeply repented.

Yes, this wasn’t milk-hara. This was for survival.

There’s a person not drinking, yeah yeah yeah. There’s a person not drinking, yeah yeah yeah.

That person’s meー That person’s meー。Yeah, chug, chug, chug.

Drink, drink, drink, abuー

I want to see the good points of a baby!　Chug it, chug.

It’s a little out of date, but singing an alcohol song similar to ones used during prohibition and encouraging myself, I sucked in the milk.

UoohhーWhile spewing abusive words I drank, gulping it down.

And then puked. While I “babu babu” a complaint, I drank again. “Oeeh” and vomited.

My current state was completely like a poor drunkard.

But it couldn’t be helped. I’m persevering.

To me, who preferred alcohol over sweets, the taste of a person’s skin and the tepid, slightly sweet milk was harsh.

Setting aside those eating habits.

Let’s change the topic for the basic information I’ve gathered little by little during these past six months.

Firstly, this world. It wasn’t j.a.pan, and it wasn’t Earth either.

The place where I was born was the Yugnar country.

There, magic existed.

Wao!　What should I doー So my heart skipped, but it was established that I didn’t have much magic power.

In the first place, the magic I was thinking about was on the level where only the King or someone of the upper echelon of n.o.bility could use. How disappointing.

And now information about myself.

My name is Tiariela Norfolk. Norfolk is my house name.

My parents were middle ranked n.o.bility, and had no other kids beside me.

With the stipend from the small fief and the country, we lived a slightly wealthier lifestyle than the common citizen.

Mom was 21, Father was 42, and the difference between their ages stood out.

Apparently the doctor had directly told my sickly mother who wished for a child that it would be difficult, but despite that she was determined to give birth.

And the one that was born as if precious was the around 30 me.

Even though she bet her life and gave birth to me, somehow I feel guilty.

With that sort of weak point, I cried as I didn’t have much methods to pull off, and towards that, my Mom asked “what’s wrong?” in worry while fl.u.s.tered.

Since I didn’t have a choice, when Mom’s condition seemed to be good I chose a suitable time to cry.

While thinking “such a baby that can read the mood doesn’t exist elsewhere,” I appealed that I was favorably growing up.

I tried saying “abu abu.”

I tried flapping my hands and legs around while laughing. I tried eating gauze.

I tried yawning as if I was tired. I tried grumbling.

Seeing me, Mom would laugh, so that made me happy.

In that fas.h.i.+on I rapidly grew up, and would soon be welcoming my 5th birthday.

Thank goodness……

Why does time feel longer when you’re young?

My 20s, the prime of my life was tumbled by too quickly, but let’s set aside this around 30’s complaining.

At the party held to celebrate my fifth birthday, I would learn a startling truth.

Because there, as if he could appear on the front cover of a Hiyo〇 Club magazine, I met a tiny ikemen.

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Romaji glossary for those who are interested

Milk-hara (ミルハラ) – I actually had trouble with this for a bit, until I realized it was milk hara.s.sment (ミルクハラスメント), only shortened. Problem is, since milk is a short one syllable word, but is broken up into a few characters in JP it didn’t get across the whole “milk” meaning and was instead Miruhara. For a while, I agonized “what the heck is miruhara!?” but felt stupid immediately after I realized it was milk hara.s.sment…

Uoohh – it’s said with a feeling of being pumped up and raring to go and stuff.

Oeehhh – She’s puking here lol

Wao! – Wow in English. 

Hiyo〇 Club – Hiyoko Club. If you google it, it’ll show a bun of magazine covers with cute children on it, so I’m guessing it’s a parenting magazine.

Ikemen – I already said it before, but it’s a hot guy/attractive male.