HB Translations

  Another fine day today. Not that the sun is actually smiling or anything, and since I haven’t even seen a dog yet, I can’t say whether puppies smile either. …Though if they did, that’d be kind of terrifying. One of the maid girls is humming while cleaning the window. She’s got her back to me, so I can’t see her expression, but the way she sways her head and hair from side to side while she sings—she’s clearly enjoying herself. She’s probably smiling. She’s wiping even the corners and window sashes with meticulous care. And she does this every day . Today’s maid girl has blue hair . Maybe so she doesn’t get in the way of her own work, she’s tied her sky-blue hair back into a short ponytail with a matching ribbon. Her exposed white nape and the strands of hair slipping free add a subtle elegance to her fresh, youthful appearance. She’s probably around 150 centimeters tall. Since she can’t reach the top of the window, she’s standing on a stepladder she brought in herself...

  I Am a Baby. Born and raised in 21st-century Japan, in a perfectly ordinary household. Not to brag, but we were your run-of-the-mill working poor. Which is why... There’s no way in hell my room could be this big!! Naturally, we couldn’t afford to hire a maid or anything like that. And no, my mom was definitely not a cosplayer. …If she actually was, I think I’d die of rage. I mean, come on. My mom’s already p— Wait, the moment I tried to think about it, a chill ran down my spine! Puns aside... yeah, let’s forget that. She’s already hit the ○○-year mark. Even if she bathed in Dom○ohorn Wrinkle, she still wouldn’t pass for a teenager. More importantly—me? A baby? That’s gotta be a joke. I was definitely Japanese. Or at least, I think I was. For some reason, everything’s super hazy—I can’t even remember my name clearly—but I’m sure I had memories of living about twenty years or so. Old man dies, inheritance goes to me… Yeah, I can still recite my multiplication tables,...

  ――Warm spring sunlight poured down. A high, delicate laugh of a baby echoed through the quiet room. The white ceiling, easily as tall as two adult men standing on top of each other, was spotless. On the southern wall, a large transparent glass window. Not a trace of dust or fingerprints could be seen—every corner had clearly been meticulously cleaned. A gentle breeze drifted into the room through the slightly open window, causing the white lace curtain to sway softly. Just outside the window stood a single tree with vibrant, fresh green leaves. As the wind stirred the leaves and the curtain, the afternoon sunlight streaming through the glass was alternately filtered and blocked. This interplay of light and shadow danced across the white walls and the thick beige carpet, and the baby's laughter wove through it all, as if fairies of light and shadow were joyfully singing and dancing together. Though the room held bookshelves, a variety of plush toys, and sofas of various si...