Two years had passed since that rainy night.
The once tiny newborn had now grown into a small two-year-old boy.
He still had the same soft white hair and those unusual golden eyes that often caught people's attention. His face looked innocent and cute, just like any other child his age.
But sometimes…
his expressions didn't quite match his age.
That morning, the boy was sitting on the living room floor.
A small table stood in front of him.
On top of the table sat a glass filled with fresh orange juice.
The boy stared at it for a moment.
Then he slowly turned his head toward the reader.
"Well… it has been two years already," he said casually.
He rested his chin in his small hand.
"You might be wondering something."
His golden eyes blinked once.
"Like… how did I come back to life?"
He paused for a moment.
After all, he had clearly died right after being born.
Yet here he was.
Alive.
But the boy suddenly waved his tiny hand dismissively.
"Ah, we can talk about that later."
His eyes moved back to the table.
Right toward the glass.
"For now…"
He stretched his arm forward.
"I want that orange juice."
His fingers wiggled in the air as he tried to reach the glass.
But the table was a little too far away.
His hand couldn't reach it.
The boy squinted his eyes slightly.
Then he focused on the glass.
Slowly—
very slowly—
the glass began to move.
It slid across the table.
A little.
Then a little more.
The boy's eyes widened slightly.
"Oh?"
The glass continued sliding toward him.
"This actually works?"
The boy looked a little surprised himself.
The glass kept moving until it reached the edge of the table.
But the moment it reached the end—
slip!
The glass lost balance.
And the next second—
CRASH!
The glass fell onto the floor and shattered into pieces.
Orange juice splashed everywhere.
The boy froze.
"…Ah."
For a brief moment, the living room was silent.
Then suddenly—
the boy jumped up and ran toward the spilled juice.
His tiny feet made quick tapping sounds against the floor.
But just as he reached the spot—
a hand grabbed him from behind.
His mother had arrived.
She lifted him up quickly.
"Hey! Stop!"
She looked down at the broken glass on the floor.
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"How did this fall?"
She looked directly at the boy.
"You didn't do anything, right?"
The boy froze in her arms.
For a moment, he looked at the broken glass.
Then he looked back at his mother.
A slightly awkward expression appeared on his face.
His golden eyes blinked innocently.
Then he slowly shook his head.
"I… don't know."
His mother sighed softly.
"Kids these days…"
She carried him away while calling for someone to clean the floor.
The boy quietly looked back at the spilled juice.
His small lips twitched slightly.
Almost like he wanted to say something.
But instead—
he simply looked forward again.
And pretended
that he had absolutely nothing to do with it.