RAGNA POV...
I had already started preparing for future experiments.
In the movies and novels from my previous life, there were always a few classic ways to turn someone into a vampire. A bite to the neck. A blood ritual. Some dramatic life-or-death scene under a crimson moon.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t some pure fantasy novel.
I couldn’t just walk up and bite my sister on the neck. Even if I wanted to, my family would probably lose their minds before I could finish the job.
That aside, my situation wasn’t even properly explained. The system had dropped a notification about something called the cursed ritual—and then... nothing. No description. No follow-up. Not even a hint.
The more I thought about it, the worse it got.
In the end, I could only arrive at a conclusion that was half doubt and half blind faith.
My guess was that the Cursed ritual which was spreading my seed were similar to some kind of vampire blood ritual. That was the best theory I had. Beyond that, I wasn’t even confident that my sister would gain a system like mine after being cursed.
Because of that, the idea of cursing her was put on hold.
For many reasons.
One cursed child was already more than enough. A second one wouldn’t make our already miserable situation any better—only worse.
Over the following year, I realized that every so-called discovery I made was a dead end. I couldn’t even feel a shred of excitement when I thought about the system’s offer to curse my sister. The information was too little. Too vague. Completely useless for any real planning.
I still completed my daily meditation tasks, and my comprehension of my abilities continued to grow. But none of that erased the bitter taste of failure that clung to me every single day.
Then I turned four.
In the village, this age was considered special—part of the so-called golden years for children under six. Kids my age were treated like "little men and women," old enough to roam freely and play without supervision.
It was the age to make friends.
To play all day.
To grow closer to neighbors and strengthen family ties.
On the day of my fourth birthday, after finishing my chores, Ada decided to take me outside. I could have refused, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment for her, so I went along.
She tried introducing me to some children who were playing nearby.
The moment they saw my eyes—my extra pupils—they screamed.
"Monster!"
They scattered like frightened birds, running straight back to their homes. Doors slammed shut one after another, and parents hurriedly dragged their children inside.
I was supposed to socialize and play.
Instead, the entire neighborhood hid from me.
Ada had no choice but to take me home. Tears streamed down her face the whole way back. She hated how everyone treated her little brother. She kept thinking that it wasn’t my fault I was born this way.
I comforted her outwardly, but inside, I didn’t dwell on it.
I had other plans.
No amount of failure or grief could make me forget how bad my situation was becoming with each passing year.
John’s farm was a little far from our house—less than a two-minute run for me. Beyond it lay the massive bush known as Wortham forest.
Despite the name, it wasn’t just grassland. Tall trees filled the area, along with the occasional wild animal. Villagers dumped their waste along its edges, treating it like a convenient borderland.
Wortham forest was just a nickname. It wasn’t a real forest.
Wildlife there was scarce. Most adults only went in to set traps, and only the lucky ones came back with anything worth mentioning. Monsters were nonexistent unless someone ventured much deeper, into the neighboring forests—uncharted territory where no one sane would go.
Even though I hadn’t cultivated any special body arts in this world, the meditation technique had still helped modify and strengthen my body as I grew.
That said, I was still just a child.
Compared to my siblings, my body was fragile. Any excessive exertion would only harm my growth. I needed far more energy to strengthen my physique than that single technique could provide.
Because I was labeled a cursed child, I knew almost nothing about the outside world—especially when it came to dealing with people or trading goods.
I needed food supplies.
That was why I was heading toward Aunt Lilith’s house—my father’s step-sister. She was the only one who had consistently helped me despite the village’s contempt.
She was also famously stingy—the kind of person who could buy something for half its value and still complain. But according to my parents, she didn’t discriminate based on status, and she was family.
’Now that I think about it... I have been thinking with my stomach again.’
I had almost forgotten the main problem.
’How the hell do I convince someone I barely know to buy things from me?’
I had lived like a caveman for so long that I didn’t even know what vegetables she might like. And even if I did, it wasn’t like she hadn’t heard the rumors about me.
’Fuck my ancestors. Even if she agrees to see me, she has zero reason to trust me.
’With all the "great benefits" my cursed child status has brought, she might not discriminate... but she could still freak out the moment she sees me.’
Lilith’s House was a single-story wooden structure, roughly the same size as ours—about a hundred square meters. There was no henhouse or barn.
The land surrounding it was uncultivated, overrun with weeds and tall grass.
’Looks like she doesn’t grow her own vegetables, I thought. Either that, or her husband’s business is big enough to support the whole family.’
’With all the chaos in this village, I should probably start praying she’s a saint rather than an idiot.’
After arriving, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves.
Almost immediately, the door opened.
"Who—? Oh my God, a kid? Are you lost?"
Lilith looked exactly as my parents had described. Around the same age as my mother—thirty-nine. About 1.7 meters tall. Plump, with dark skin darker than anyone I had seen so far. Her black hair was braided neatly, hanging down her back.
And just like that... my first real gamble began.