RAGNA POV...
I gripped the broom with both hands and began sweeping the dusty floor, brushing away the sand and dirt scattered across it.
If this was the first step toward changing my fate...
Then I wasn’t backing down.
Mother stayed silent, her gaze distant—as if she were staring straight into my future. Maybe, just maybe, she was hoping this could finally prove to the villagers that I was nothing more than a normal child.
"Would you be willing to show me?" Grandma asked.
She laughed.
I stiffened.
Here goes nothing...
Almost immediately, someone rushed off and returned with a broomstick. It passed from their hands to the midwife’s, and finally into mine.
I wrapped both hands around it and began sweeping the floor, brushing away the thin layer of sand and dust scattered across the ground.
"Oh my, wonderful!"
Grandma burst into laughter again, clapping lightly as she watched me wobble around with my little self with the broomstick on the floor.
"Just wonderful."
I could feel her eyes on me—warm, amused, and oddly nostalgic.
She was probably seeing her daughter’s younger self in me. From the way she looked, I guessed my mother must been a precocious brat too when she was my age. That alone made me... strangely proud.
In this village, household chores were usually left to women—washing, sweeping, cooking and the likes. Men were expected to hunt, forge metal, carve wood. Until they were grown, most village boys were useless lumps, more interested in chasing skirts, gambling, or dreaming about becoming knights and strong hunters, it was seen as normal.
So apparently, I was an anomaly.
"Now," Grandma said, leaning forward, "I want you to do something else. Can you try packing the dirt you just swept?"
I nodded.
"Even if there are leftovers, just leave them on the floor."
I didn’t understand why, but she was my grandma—so I obeyed.
I squatted down, and someone handed me a flat piece of metal with a handle. A simple tool, I could use for parking the dirt.
I could have done this perfectly.
But I couldn’t afford to, especially not in front of everyone.
I deliberately fumbled a little, making my movements clumsy, my hands shaky. I focused on looking like a child struggling with control—nothing more nothing less. A perfect act.
---
For the first time in a very long while, Grandma looked genuinely amazed.
"My name is Maida," she said. "But everyone calls me Granny."
"Why Granny?" I asked, tilting my head in confusion.
She chuckled. "Because I’m old, little brat. When I was young and beautiful, people called me by my maiden name. But time passed—as it always does—and I became what you see now."
She ruffled my gray hair gently, as she said with a softened expression.
"I helped many parents. Many children. Some were normal... and some were like you. Some called me Grandma out of gratitude. Others called me a old Witch."
Her voice softened, with a smug grin on her expression when she mentioned the– the witch.
"Those children grew up. Had children of their own. Some died. And before I knew it, everyone was calling me Grandma again."
She paused, studying me closely as if thinking about something.
"I have something in mind," she continued.
"You’re still too small now. But when you’re six or seven, instead of staying home and just studying, you could come here. I might be able to help your mother."
She smiled and glanced at Mother.
I stared at her, then exaggeratedly tilted my head sideways and back—playing dumb.
"Mother," I said softly, hiding behind her legs, only half my face peeking out, "what is Grandma talking about?"
Mother froze.
For a moment, she looked like she might cry—or laugh—or do both at once.
Her mother had just offered what could finally make me human again... and I didn’t even seem to understand the weight of it.
"Please excuse him, mother," Mother said carefully. "He’s only three years old. He doesn’t understand what he’s saying. He doesn’t understand how important this is."
"This little brat... three?" Grandma repeated, smiling. "It almost sounds too good to be true. But you’re right. Children will always be children."
She sighed.
"Then we’ll have this conversation again three years from now."
She bent down, rubbing my head and locking eyes with me.
"Don’t forget me, little bullhead. And if you don’t grow up as violent as the other demonic children in this village, I’ll take you out for a treat."
She smirked. "That’s If you’re still interested by then."
I nodded obediently, clutching my mother’s gown tighter, pretending to seek protection.
From the outside, I probably looked weak. Timid. Harmless.
Inside though, my thoughts were anything but innocent.
Three years?
At this rate, my sister might be dead before then.
Greedy hag.
I was sick of watching my older sister suffer. Sick of standing by while she went through endless pain, unable to help her even though I knew I could.
Anger churned in my chest—but beneath it, my mind raced.
There has to be another way.
And then—
My thoughts were abruptly interrupted, by a sudden notification message from the system.
> [Requirements to spread your seeds have been met]
[Does host desire to spread his seed on his relatives?]
[Yes] — [No]
The world seemed to hold its breath, with the sudden notification message I had just gotten.
So did I.
[Author Notes: I would like to say a big thank you to everyone for reading this novel, and our top fans,I appreciate every comment, review, powerstones, golden tickets you guys give the book. But we need more.]
[Our hunger grows!]
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