RAGNA POV...
I stood there alone on the dirt road, hands hanging stiffly by my sides, pretending I was simply waiting for someone who would never come, even though every instinct in my body was already counting the seconds until they arrived.
The sound of hooves tore through the quiet first.
Out of the darkness emerged a group of riders, and the one at the front immediately caught my attention—not because he was loud, but because he felt dangerous. He had a large, solid build, the kind that came from years of violence rather than training, with rough black hair patting unevenly against the side of his forehead and a fresh scar carved almost through the middle of his lips, as if someone had once tried—and failed—to silence him forever.
He rode straight toward me and raised his voice, sharp and performative.
"Hey! It’s dangerous to be outside at this hour!"
I shrank back just a little, shoulders tensing, fingers twitching as if I didn’t know where to put my hands. I fidgeted deliberately, lowering my head, all while watching him from beneath my lashes, waiting to see what kind of man he would choose to be next.
"Come on, Captain," one of the men behind him said with a lazy chuckle. "Cut the kid some slack. He’s probably frightened."
That almost made me laugh.
Every single one of them knew the signal, the unspoken language shared only by hunters who had done this far too many times before. They knew I was already surrounded, already claimed, and yet not a single one of them could warn their little prey—not that it mattered, because I had known from the moment I felt their presence.
Freecss didn’t reply. Instead, he sighed, shook his head like a man conceding to reason, and slowly swung himself down from his horse. As he straightened, his eyes locked onto me, and I could see it—the effort it took for him to bury the murderous intent simmering beneath the surface and replace it with a gentle, almost fatherly smile that made my skin crawl.
He took a few steps closer.
"Hey, kid," he said softly. "What are you doing out here? Where are your parents? Don’t they know how dangerous it is to leave a little kid all alone?"
I looked up at him, then past him, letting my gaze drift toward the rest of his group.
They were all dressed in hunter gear stitched from fur, practical and worn, with no crests or banners to show who they served. One of them was an unshaven middle-aged man with pitch-black hair and fierce, angry eyes—eyes sharp enough to make a normal child piss himself on the spot.
And then, standing comfortably among them as if he belonged somewhere far better, was that one.
His clothes were finer, the stitching cleaner, the fabric heavier. A gold-embroidered crest gleamed faintly on his chest. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen or fourteen, with a cold, frigid expression and the lean build of an athlete who had never known hunger. The fur lining of his coat alone screamed status.
"Hey, kid," Freecss continued, his voice smooth as oil. "Why don’t we guide you back to your parents?"
While he spoke, he flicked his fingers subtly, and the riders halted, spreading out as they scanned the surroundings. He didn’t want witnesses. That was the only reason he was still pretending to be human.
"Maybe you’re too scared to walk by yourself," he added. "How about we escort you home? That way your papa and mama won’t worry."
No one came running.
No one called my name.
Freecss noticed that too.
I nodded gently, lowering my head again, putting on my best performance—wide eyes, stiff posture, the picture of a dumb, innocent child.
[Time left before ’Morph’ deactivates: 00:30]
"I’ll take that as a yes," he said.
I really thought they might’ve been decent people.
Turns out they were just another bunch of pretentious mofos hiding behind polite smiles.
[00:19]
"So," Freecss asked, glancing left and right, "where’s your house?"
I lifted one trembling hand and pointed in a random direction, away from the village.
"That way, sir. That’s where my village is."
"Good," he replied with a smirk that didn’t bother hiding the mockery. "Let’s move."
[00:02]
"Captain," the well-dressed boy suddenly spoke, his tone detached and cold, like he was ordering an object rather than a person. "Give the boy to me. He’ll make a perfect serf."
Freecss didn’t hesitate.
"If that’s what you want, Young Master."
He smiled at him—warm, respectful, the kind of smile a kind uncle would give a beloved nephew—then turned back to me.
"Kid, count yourself lucky. Our youngest master has chosen you."
Funny.
They had planned to kill me from the start, but my shitty luck had apparently saved me from their claws.
[00:00]
The instant that handsome swine finished talking, something inside me snapped.
[’Morph’ has been deactivated]
I turned my back to them and smiled.
The act was over.
"Imbeciles," I said, my voice low at first, before my grin stretched wider and wider until it hurt. "Aren’t you all just too stupid?"
Then I laughed.
High. Sharp. Childish. The sound burst out of me uncontrollably, echoing through the night and making their horses stamp and snort nervously.
"Captain," someone muttered irritably, "are you sure the kid’s okay? What’s so funny?"
"You still don’t get it?" I said.
Slowly, deliberately, I turned around.
My body hadn’t moved—but my face was no longer human. My black hair drained of color, turning ash-grey, while my cheeks twisted inward, splitting grotesquely as a second pair of narrow, squinting eyes opened beneath the first.
Four eyes stared back at them.
All of them began to glow crimson beneath the pale moonlight.
I didn’t need to explain what I was. Anyone with eyes and ears should have figured it out already.
I only had to glance at them to savor their expressions—wide eyes, stiff bodies, mouths frozen halfway between screaming and praying.
Freecss had been ready to threaten me earlier, ready to show me his "hideous side."
Now, every word he had prepared died in his throat.
"...what... the fuck... is this?" he whispered.
"Dammit, Captain!" someone shouted. "I knew something was off about this motherfucker from the start!"
But it didn’t matter anymore.
"Prepare yourselves!" Freecss roared, struggling to calm his horse as it reared wildly beneath him.
I could smell their fear.
They had never seen one of us before—but they had all heard the stories.
A beast.
An incarnation of a Demon.
A sworn destroyer of humanity, cruel to the very core.
Stories powerful enough to crush courage before a single blow was struck.
And yet—
"Do you know who you’re talking to?" the noble brat snapped, forcing his voice to stay steady. "A knight of a noble household is not someone a mere Cursed Child can dare to offend."
I smiled.
Good.
Let’s see how long that title keeps you alive.