RAGNA POV...
It was as though my answer had been enough to satisfy their curiosity for the mont, a thin layer of tension peeling away as they shifted the topic and began recounting their own experiences, and I remained silent, listening carefully while pretending to be nothing more than a mildly interested companion.
Gradually, I noticed Reiner becoming chattier again, his voice regaining that strange rhythm as he described the various places they had been taken to and the things they had seen after their captivity, and it was unsettling how quickly his earlier sadness dissolved into that perpetual, exuberant energy of his, the corners of his lips stretching into that familiar smile that never quite reached his eyes.
Sotis he would say sothing that only he seed to understand, then burst into laughter loud and unrestrained, as if the world itself were a private joke made solely for his amusent, and every ti he did, a faint chill would creep along my spine despite the otherwise calm atmosphere of the cabin.
By the ti I casually glanced around, I realized we were the only ones still awake, the dim lanterns casting long tallic reflections along the walls while the steady hum of the moving carriage filled the silence between our words, and it struck that we had beco so engrossed in the conversation that we had nearly forgotten it was already bedti.
After bidding farewell, the two of them headed toward their sleeping quarters, their footsteps fading gradually until the corridor swallowed the sound entirely.
The mont they disappeared from sight, sothing stirred within so abruptly that I almost failed to contain it, my expression tightening before a slow frown settled across my face as I watched the empty hallway where they had just stood.
This was bad news.
As a curse child, I had always believed cursed children were ant to be anything but positive beings, that our instincts—sharpened by abandonnt, survival, and a world that despised our very existence—would naturally mold us into creatures more sly and calculating than the governnt trying to bury its own sins, more mistrustful than stray dogs fighting over scraps.
Hatred, suspicion, self-preservation—those were traits I thought were unavoidable.
And yet, after observing other Cursed children, I found that ideology beginning to fracture.
Even more confusing was the fact that although our instincts were supposedly ant to make us despise the Holy Shrine, it almost seed to have the opposite effect on them, as if sothing about that place had not instilled fear or hatred, but sothing far more complicated.
I found them suspicious—not rely because of my instincts, but because our very first interaction had been odd.
Reiner’s unusual politeness, especially, had felt rehearsed in a way that was difficult to pinpoint. It was as though they had been testing from the start, probing subtly to see how I would respond, and whether that test would lead to sothing beneficial or disastrous remained unclear.
But my gut told one thing.
They were dangerous.
Reiner, in particular, unsettled . His eyes were always narrowed into thin slits beneath that cheerful smile, and no matter how harmless his laughter sounded, I could never shake the impression that he was constantly asuring the room, calculating variables behind that playful exterior.
He interacted with others far too easily for soone who had been captured and displaced. No hesitation. No guardedness. He had even revealed their secret to without a mont’s pause, as if trust were disposable or perhaps part of a larger strategy.
That kind of personality reminded of a wolf draped in sheep’s wool—approachable, warm even, until you realized the fangs had been there all along.
In contrast, Berthold seed less imdiately threatening, though that in itself might have been misleading. His expression barely shifted unless sothing truly surprised him, his face composed and almost indifferent, but there was a quiet awareness in his gaze that suggested he was observing far more than he ever voiced.
If Reiner was the one who spoke and laughed, then Matthew was the one who watched and rembered.
He struck as the type who would decide whether soone was friend or foe long before revealing that conclusion, and once he made that judgnt, it would not easily change.
After they left, no one else ca to disturb , and I found myself strangely grateful for the solitude.
Leaning back against the cold tallic plank wall, I closed my eyes, though sleep was the furthest thing from my mind as my thoughts began moving restlessly, circling around what I had just learned.
For the first ti since arriving in this world, I had encountered sothing that genuinely shook .
Not only were there other demons who possessed Systems, but they could also complete quests and gain rewards, just like I could. Yet according to them, such demons were rare—even among our kind.
Which led to an unsettling possibility.
Did that an they had reincarnated as well?
If other cursed children with Systems were reincarnators like , then those who were gathering cursed children might already be aware of it, and if they were aware, then there was a reason for collecting us instead of killing us outright.
A purpose.
I had engaged in conversation not out of companionship, but because information was more valuable than comfort.
In this place, fragnts of truth were scattered everywhere, and even if I had not learned anything about the Steel Knights or the Holy Shrine directly, I had gained sothing perhaps more important—a broader understanding of other demons and the hidden structure of this world.
Everything seed to point back to the Holy Shrine... or perhaps to sothing even deeper, like a reincarnation crossroad hidden behind its facade.
After sorting through the chaos of my thoughts, I recalled what the System had once said about achieving friendship.
Perhaps I should attempt it.
If nothing else, forging connections might yield advantages, and if betrayal ca, then revenge would be served cold and without hesitation.
I let my breathing slow as I kept my eyes shut, though my mind remained alert.
There was no escaping the fact that I possessed a System. If the Holy Shrine had any thod of detecting users, then hiding would be pointless.
The destination we were heading toward must be far from ordinary human settlents, hidden from prying eyes. The Steel Knights did not seem like demons, yet they did not resemble normal humans either.
If my guess was correct, their duty was to collect and safeguard demon children until we reached our final destination.
And perhaps they were unaware that so demons possessed Systems... or perhaps they simply did not consider us a threat worth isolating. I had walked past them several tis without drawing suspicion, and if they had noticed anything strange about , they had not shown it.
Still, according to the legends whispered among villagers, cursed children taken into captivity were executed imdiately by the Holy Shrine, branded as death gods—devilish and cruel beyond redemption.
If that were true, then why were we still alive?
That contradiction lingered in my mind long after the carriage fell silent, and even as my body remained still against the cold tal wall, I knew one thing for certain.
Sothing about this journey did not align with the stories the world had so confidently told.
Reviews
All reviews (0)