RAGNA POV...
Since the line was short, it didn’t take long before it was our turn. The black steel knight stood behind the crude wooden table like an unmoving statue, his armor swallowing the light and giving nothing back. When we stepped forward, he dropped a few pieces of brown bread and a slab of grilled fish onto our plates without so much as a proper glance. No blessing, no warning, no contempt openly shown—just a silent dismissal as he flicked his gauntleted hand and waved us away.
Yet as I turned, I felt it.
A coldness seeped from within that helmet, not the kind born from wind or metal, but something watchful and oppressive, as if a pair of eyes behind the slit visor had weighed my existence and already decided I was insignificant.
We bowed formally, lowering our heads in unison as custom demanded.
"What are you doing staring like that? Come up next!" the steel knight barked suddenly, his voice exploding across the camp like a whip crack.
The children behind us jolted awake from their daze, fear snapping through their stiff bodies. I could hear faint grumbling—resentment swallowed before it ever reached their lips. None of them dared protest. Their hands moved quickly, almost elegantly, taking what was given without hesitation. They weren’t fools. Even the youngest among them understood the truth of this place.
We were prey surrounded by predators.
The odd siblings walked ahead without turning back, already accustomed to such chaos. I didn’t bother looking either. What would be the point? Interfering in anything here would not make me righteous—it would only hasten our deaths.
Carrying our food, we scanned the area briefly before choosing a relatively remote patch of ground. There was no carpet, no mat, not even dry grass worth mentioning. We sat anyway. Survival didn’t require comfort.
The others began eating immediately, but I paused, studying my portion carefully. I examined the bread, inhaled the faint scent of smoke from the fish, and watched for anything unusual. I had immunity to toxins, but that didn’t mean I wanted to test it recklessly. Being careless out of arrogance was no different from being stupid.
Besides, if I chose not to eat, my stomach would revolt. Hunger only sharpened grief, and I already had enough of that clawing at me from within.
Just as I was about to take my first bite, a crisp notification rang inside my head, clear and mechanical.
[Host has completed System Quest: Achieve Friendship]
"...Hmm?"
This was only the second system quest I had completed since everything began. The surprise flickered across my face before I could suppress it.
So speaking to the other Cursed children had been enough. From the system’s perspective, that counted as friendship.
When I thought about it calmly, it made sense. Back in the village, I had never mingled with anyone. For four years, I had lived like a creature hiding in a cave, interacting only with my family and the enslaved minions under my command. Slaves could obey me. They could assist me. But they could never be called friends.
My family... they were the only ones I trusted.
A faint ache pressed against my chest.
The notification shifted.
[Quest Rewards]
<4000 Exp has been received>
<+5 Attribute Points>
I stared at the floating text in silence.
Five attribute points.
My first instinct was to give them to Oge. Strengthen her further. Protect her in ways I failed to before.
But overloading her with power before she fully understood herself could be dangerous. Growth without comprehension often led to collapse. For now, the wiser choice was to hold onto the points until the timing felt right.
I exhaled slowly.
No matter how I rationalized things, the grief and guilt remained, heavy and unmoving.
If only I could reverse time.
If only I could undo a single moment.
The thought was useless, so I forced it down and finally began to eat.
By then Reiner had already started talking, his enthusiasm making any enhancement spell unnecessary.
"Mmm—this is delicious! This brown wheat bread isn’t as bad as I thought. And the grilled fish—ah, it’s actually tasty!"
His voice was muffled by the food in his mouth, yet somehow he still managed to speak clearly enough. Every exaggerated chew produced animated sounds of satisfaction.
Berthold, seated beside him, ate with intense focus, as if afraid the plate might vanish if he slowed down.
For children like them—like us—this was luxury. Only nobles tasted such food during festivals. Peasants survived on pale, nutritionless white bread. Compared to that, this meal was a feast worthy of celebration.
Looking around, I noticed I was the only one not devouring the food as if my life depended on it. Cheeks bulged. Eyes shone with desperate gratitude.
Reiner leaned closer to my ear, lowering his voice.
"It’s almost funny, isn’t it? Being kidnapped might not be so bad. If we keep eating like this, maybe we should get captured more often."
His whisper brushed uncomfortably close.
Then his gaze drifted to my plate.
"But if you’re not that hungry... you don’t mind if I take yours, right?"
I didn’t respond. I simply increased my pace and began eating properly.
"Come on, don’t be like that," he complained lightly. "You could at least say yes or no instead of acting so cold."
Despite his words, there was laughter in his tone.
Within minutes, the three of us had finished everything—the bread, the fish, and a large gulp of fresh milk that washed the salt and smoke from our mouths. We wiped our faces with the backs of our sleeves and returned to the carriage.
Inside, we were allowed to move freely until the next hour signaled bedtime.
Reiner flopped against the wooden interior and sighed.
"Don’t you think sitting around doing nothing is boring? We should at least talk." He paused briefly, then added with a grin, "Why don’t we tell each other where we’re from? We’re friends now, right?"
"No thanks," I replied calmly. "I’m fine."
I had no intention of speaking about myself or my family. Some things were better buried.
He studied me for a moment before shrugging. "Alright then. Berthold and I will go first."
And just like that, Reiner began recounting their story.
They were illegitimate sons of a minor noble in the Northern Zone—within the Westin Kingdom. Their father, a baron, had favored them despite their birth status. Their quick minds had manifested through something they called the Enchanted System Grimoire, a magical evolution that granted them unusual abilities. Their father, proud and ambitious, had spent significant resources ensuring they would attend the kingdom’s finest academy once they came of age.
Their mother had died months after giving birth to them.
Out of love for her, their father cherished them fiercely.
But when the System Grimoire evolved, everything changed.
The whispers began. Cursed. Unnatural.
Even nobles looked at them with disdain. Only their father stood firm, shielding them from accusation and fear.
Then he died in battle.
And with him, their protection vanished.
Their stepmother wasted no time accusing them of killing him with their "demonic influence." The court listened. The nobles nodded. And the verdict was exile.
They were cast out of the kingdom with nothing.
No allies. No inheritance. No protection.
They wandered the streets like beggars, surviving however they could—until one night in a dark alley, they were captured without warning.
Reiner finished speaking with a crooked smile, as if the story belonged to someone else.
I remained silent.
In this carriage full of children labeled Cursed, it seemed none of us had been monsters by choice.