RAGNA POV...
Because my family had been suffering for my sake, I had started that small vegetable business in the first place, thinking that if I could at least ease the pressure of daily expenses and slowly shoulder the heavier family needs, then maybe the burden I had brought upon them would lessen, even if only a little.
Then I dealt with my sister’s congenital condition, turning her into a Banshee, convincing myself that it was the best possible outco, and I poured every fragnt of my knowledge into her, believing she could beco my eyes and ears, soone capable of protecting the family whenever I wasn’t there.
With each small success, my confidence grew quietly and steadily, not just in myself but in the fragile belief that as long as I kept following that sa pattern—planning alone, acting alone, fixing everything alone—everything would eventually work out.
What I didn’t realize back then was that this was already the beginning of my failure, because sowhere along the way I beca obsessed with doing everything by myself and forgot the very family who had always stood beside without question.
The mont my instincts scread danger, and the Black Steel Knight of the Holy Shrine appeared, every carefully constructed illusion I had built collapsed in an instant, dismantled so completely that there was nothing left for to cling to.
A broken smile crept across my face as I looked inward, and for the first ti I truly felt like the biggest joke of my own life, a pathetic excuse of a son and an even worse brother.
Not only had my plan to infiltrate the Holy Shrine failed spectacularly, I had lost my father in the process of what I once believed to be an amazing plan.
Worse still, I hadn’t even had the strength or wit to fight back, and now I was nothing more than a captive, helplessly dragged along while my family was left behind.
I couldn’t even begin to imagine what they were going through at that mont—my mother without her husband, my sisters without their father, and all of them without there to offer even the smallest comfort in their darkest ti.
The more I replayed everything in my head, the clearer it beca just how flawed the belief was that I had built my entire existence upon, and how fragile it truly had been from the start.
I kept weeping, not only for my family, but for my own complete uselessness.
Just as my thoughts began to settle into sothing coherent, a familiar presence appeared before my eyes.
[Congratulations! 55 Attribute Points have been added to Family mber: Banshee]
I slowly raised my head, and for a brief mont the tears stopped, my muddled mind trying desperately to recall what had happened right before I collapsed.
The next few seconds were spent forcing my thoughts together, chasing fragnts of mory that refused to fully take shape, and I could feel that I was close—so close—to understanding what had truly occurred.
That was when a voice interrupted .
"Hey... are you okay?"
It was a childish voice, hesitant and unfamiliar, and because I was on the verge of piecing everything together, I ignored it entirely, focusing instead on recovering what I had lost.
Unfortunately, the voice didn’t stop, and the repeated calling soon beca irritating enough that I finally lifted my head with an annoyed glare, ready to silence whoever was disturbing .
When I looked up, I realized it wasn’t just one person, but two.
They were two boys, almost identical, dressed in plain grey shirts and knee-length brown shorts, standing side by side like reflections of one another, except that one was slightly taller.
Their hair was long and grey-white, just like mine, and as I studied their faces I noticed the thick mid-brows, large eyes, and narrow yet slightly broad noses, their bodies skinny and lacking muscle despite their age.
What stood out the most, however, were the two small horns protruding from the sides of their foreheads, each about three inches long and gently curved.
Only then did it click—they were also cursed children, the sa kind being taken away by the Holy Shrine.
They stood cautiously nearby, watching without hostility.
"Yes. What do you want?" I asked coldly, my glare fixed on them as I analyzed every movent.
The taller boy on the right wore an oddly cheerful smile, one that felt unsettling in its curiosity as he stared at with open interest.
"Hey... what’s your na?"
I looked at them for a mont before lowering my gaze, and the reason was simple.
This was the first ti children my age had ever approached on their own, without ridicule, without disgust, and without spewing insults about being a cursed child.
For the first ti in my life, I didn’t know how to react, torn between a strange warmth at being treated like a normal person and a deep suspicion that they might be hiding sothing beneath their friendliness.
I couldn’t understand why they were talking to at all, or whether they had so ulterior motive, until another thought crossed my mind—perhaps it was because they were cursed children too.
Maybe they just wanted to live normally, to believe that they weren’t any different from humans, and so they treated others the way normal people would.
That thought dragged my mind back to the village, and I realized I had never truly interacted with anyone my age before, aside from my family, my older subordinates, and Aunt Gloria.
I had never cared to, either—after being branded a cursed child from birth, I had gradually turned inward, becoming like a wounded beast hiding in its cave, convinced that interacting with anyone beyond my family was a waste of ti and a sure path to trouble.
I didn’t care about humans, and I certainly didn’t care about two cursed kids pipsqueaks.
On top of that, my emotions were already in shambles, and all I wanted was ti to heal.
Yet even knowing that speaking to strangers felt like torture, I also understood that if I wanted a way out of this situation, I couldn’t let my emotions consu completely.
"Ragna."
My voice was low but clear as I finally answered, inwardly grumbling as I held their gaze with an ice-cold warning still lingering in my eyes.
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