A strange baby

I had completely forgotten that this woman had a child!

"Damn it, this complicates things quite a bit... And anyway, what on earth is that brat doing in his crib?"

I stepped closer with quiet steps and leaned in to observe him.

"Ugh..."

The baby was sitting cross-legged, resting his tiny chin on his little fist in a pose identical to Rodin's The Thinker.

"What the hell?"

He wore a terrifyingly serious, analytical, and profound expression.

"Mmmgh..."

Did he poop his diaper or something? Is that why he has that face of deep philosophical suffering?

"Well, I just have to check if there's anything dirty in there..."

I carelessly reached my hand toward his diaper when, out of nowhere...

(SMACK!)

I froze completely.

"Huh..."

The baby's tiny hand had shot out like a whip, delivering a sharp slap to the back of my hand.

"Did he... did he just slap me?"

The brat didn't even look at me. He maintained his thinker pose, staring at the opposite wall with utter indifference.

"What is wrong with you, you damn brat?! TAKE OFF THAT DIAPER!!"

I lunged at him again with both hands.

(SMACK!)

It makes zero sense!

(SMACK!)

Every single time my fingers get anywhere near the diaper tabs, this little pest slaps my hands away or lands precise punches right on my knuckles.

(BOOM!)

And the worst part is he isn't crying, screaming, or throwing a tantrum...

WHAT IS WITH THIS CRAZY RESISTANCE TO GETTING A DAMN DIAPER CHANGED?!

On the other hand, he maintains that same expression of pure concentration as he stares into the void, as if calculating the trajectory of my blows.

"What kind of baby is this?!"

[ One Hour Later ]

"I FINALLY DID IT!"

Hours later I gasped, lying flat on the floor with my hair a complete mess.

"Haaah..."

That little bastard put up a fight worthy of a seasoned warrior, but in the end, the brute force of an adult body prevailed.

"Hell... "

I got the diaper off. I won.

"Hahaha! Nobody beats the great...!"

WAIT.

"¿?"

I stared at the diaper in my hand.

"...."

Why on earth did I just waste an entire hour of my life fighting a naked, life-or-death battle against a newborn?

"And to top it off... the diaper is completely clean!"

AHHHHH!! WHATEVER!!

"Jeje."

At least, after his defeat, the brat seemed satisfied and allowed me to put a fresh diaper on him without complaining.

"Brat... "

Fortunately, thanks to all the ecstasy and defilement I subjected this body to last night, I managed to access Lilith's passive memories and maternal skills. Changing a diaper or preparing a bottle is no longer a mystery to me.

"Tch..."

Turning around, I finally spotted the cell phone. It was lying in the corner of the hallway.

"Haaa... I can't believe it was inside the pocket of the pants I ripped off last night."

This was definitely not the glorious morning I had envisioned after successfully taking over this body, and it was all because of a diaper-wearing fighter brat.

(Stomach growl!)

A hollow sound echoed through the room, coming from the baby's tiny belly.

"So you're hungry too, process?"

Well, alright.

"I might hate your parents, but I'm not such a despicable monster that I'd let a helpless baby starve, no matter how ridiculously weird he is."

So I spent the day observing the newborn's baffling behavior while I continued walking around the house completely naked, of course.

The brat spent the day crawling around the living room with a dorky look on his face, wobbling from side to side. I had to keep him from cracking his head against the furniture corners. Then, while I wasn't looking, he stubbed his bare toe against a toy truck sitting on the floor.

What I witnessed next chilled me to the bone.

The baby's face transformed in a fraction of a second into a grimace of pure, volcanic, sinister rage—an expression of deep hatred I never thought possible on an infant. He looked ready to destroy the toy. But as quickly as it came, the fury completely vanished. His face shifted abruptly, as if freed from every worry in the universe, and he slumped onto the floor to lounge around... acting exactly like an exhausted slacker returning home after a brutal day at work.

I have no idea what just went through his mind.

Well, whatever. The point is that after I kicked the toy out of the way so he wouldn't get hurt again, the brat seemed to realize I wasn't a threat. He stopped raising his guard.

A bit later, when I sat on the floor to eat some pizza I ordered over the phone, the baby slowly crawled over until he was right in front of me, staring at the food with fascination. I gave him a soft piece of the crust, and he accepted it, nibbling quietly. We sat there looking at each other, sharing food on the floor like two weird entities trying to get through the day.

By late afternoon, I collapsed onto the couch, drained from the previous night's exhaustion. I turned on the TV and felt the brat climb up beside me on the cushions without making a sound, settling in with his bottle.

"No! Why on earth does a months-old baby know how to watch an action movie?!"

And are those my damn sunglasses?!

"¿?"

There the little guy was, leaning back beside me with my oversized dark sunglasses on, watching explosions on screen while sipping his milk with absolute chill. During a chase scene, he even raised his bottle in my direction, as if making a toast.

"Haaa..."

Tch... you are a real pain in the neck, but...

"This situation doesn't seem so bad."