Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I’m Stuck as Their Baby! - Chapter 79

Chapter 79: Echoes of a Former Life
I wandered through the vast gardens, leaving behind the ridiculous conversation that had consumed breakfast and turned my family into debating lunatics over theoretical siblings.

Smaug quickly abandoned me, darting off to terrorize a group of gardeners, no doubt delighted by their startled cries and frantic scrambling. At least one of us was having fun.

The morning air felt fresh and clean, filled with the scent of blooming flowers and newly trimmed hedges. It was a stark contrast to the heaviness lingering in my mind, a heaviness that had nothing to do with my overbearing relatives or their extravagant plots.

No, this weight had been there since the beginning, tucked away in the deepest recesses of my mind, where I preferred not to look too closely.

I sighed, glancing up at the pale blue sky, marbled with wispy clouds. Birds soared overhead, blissfully oblivious to my existential dilemma. How simple their lives must be eat, fly, survive.

No bizarrely devoted parents, no terrifying grandparents determined to shape them into rulers of worlds, and definitely no sarcastic system hovering invisibly over their shoulders, offering unasked-for commentary at every turn.

[You’re unusually mopey today.]

I ignored the remark, walking deeper into the gardens. Paths wound gently between carefully tended bushes, leading to secluded benches nestled amidst carefully manicured greenery.

I found myself gravitating toward a small stone bench hidden beneath a willow tree, its long, leafy branches trailing like curtains around it, offering a sense of comforting isolation.

As I sat down, the stone cool beneath me, I closed my eyes and allowed myself, for just a moment, to remember.

Before all of this madness, before tyrants and magic and dragons and systems there had been a woman named Elyzara. Not Elyzara Thorne, heir to a terrifying dynasty of magical overlords, but just Elyzara. An ordinary woman with an ordinary life, one who preferred quiet evenings curled up in bed with a book, a cup of tea beside her.

One who chose solitude over the noisy chaos of people, content with silence as her only companion.

An image flickered through my mind the small apartment I’d lived in, its walls lined with shelves stacked high with novels, fantasies of other worlds that seemed far less absurd than my current reality.

The worn armchair, the dim lamp illuminating its faded cushions, a soft blanket draped over the back. My safe haven, where no one bothered me, where no one demanded I conquer the world or watched my every move like some prized creature to be admired.

My chest tightened slightly, a strange ache filling me as I thought of that past life, the mundane normalcy I had so often taken for granted. I hadn’t loved the world I’d come from, but I hadn’t hated it either. It had been predictable, manageable, and quiet everything this life was not.

[Feeling homesick already?]

The system’s voice echoed softly in my head, surprisingly gentle. Usually, it sounded more sarcastic, more irreverent. Now it almost seemed sympathetic.

“No,” I lied quietly. “Just… nostalgic, maybe. It feels strange, remembering who I used to be. I was nothing special. Not important. Just someone who existed.”

The system paused thoughtfully, its silence stretching until it finally answered.

[That’s not entirely true. You may have thought your life was unremarkable, but here you are chosen, extraordinary, and terrifyingly powerful.]

The system’s words echoed softly through my mind, an oddly comforting sentiment wrapped in the usual mocking tone I’d come to expect from my invisible companion.

I sighed, drawing my knees close to my chest as I leaned back against the smooth stone bench beneath the gently rustling branches of the willow.

Memories of my former life, distant yet vivid, returned with relentless clarity fragments of solitude and monotony interwoven with the occasional humiliating highlight. Like, say, choking to death on a piece of candy.

Yes, candy.

Not exactly the heroic death you’d brag about in an afterlife waiting room filled with warriors and adventurers.

In fact, as I’d lain there, desperately gasping, my vision darkening, the singular thought crossing my mind was, oh great, this is how I die. Not slain valiantly in battle, not sacrificing myself nobly for others, but choking on a stupid piece of sugary betrayal and face-planting into oblivion.

Yet, the more I thought about it, the more fitting it seemed. My previous life had been painfully ordinary an endless cycle of loneliness, silence, and repetitive comfort.

No friends, no family, just days spent reading alone, nights curled in bed staring at the ceiling, and occasional embarrassing deaths that would never be remembered.

Compared to that existence, my current life, despite its undeniable chaos and borderline insanity, felt impossibly vibrant. I had a family who, though admittedly deranged, adored me with frightening intensity.

I had power beyond imagination, magic that could reshape the very fabric of reality, and even my own pet dragon admittedly, one with questionable manners and a severe attitude problem, but still a dragon.

I had servants who genuinely cared for me, who laughed with me and protected me. Mara and Elira might not understand everything I’d been through, but they treated me like a person instead of a disposable inconvenience. I had grandparents who doted obsessively on me, and parents who, despite their disturbing affection, sincerely cherished my existence.

In short, this bizarre, twisted existence of mine held a warmth my old life never could.

And that realization reluctant though it was felt strangely comforting.

“Okay,” I finally said, my voice quiet, breaking the contemplative silence between me and the ever-present system. “Maybe my life wasn’t completely pathetic. But I prefer this.”

[I’d hope so. It would be unfortunate if you longed for choking hazards and lonely book binges.]

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for reminding me of that, really.”

[Anytime. It’s important to maintain perspective.]

“You’re impossible,” I muttered, though my lips curled into a reluctant smile. “But you’re also right. It feels wrong to say, but I’m happier here. Even with the violence, the insanity, and whatever else my family insists on putting me through, it feels like…”

[Like home.]

My chest tightened. The system had nailed it. This chaotic castle, my insane yet adoring parents, my tyrannical grandparents this was home. A weird, dysfunctional, murderous home, sure, but home nonetheless.

Before I could dwell further, a rustle broke through my self-reflection. I glanced toward the sound, spotting Mara and Elira quietly approaching, their faces cautiously peering through the leafy curtain of the willow tree. Mara looked concerned, her eyes softening as she saw me sitting there alone. Elira wore her usual composed expression, though even she had a spark of worry in her eyes.

“Your Highness?” Mara stepped closer, her voice hesitant. “We were worried when you left so suddenly. Is something troubling you?”