RAGNA POV...
Silence engulfed everything.
I felt impossibly light, like I had become part of the air, a gust slicing through the forest. Falling leaves drifted so slowly it was as if the world had paused just for me.
I shifted at the last second, narrowly avoiding another collision.
I looked down at my legs.
A smile crept onto my lips.
Several days had already slipped past me while I drowned in my own thoughts, and in that time I had unintentionally begun to reveal fragments of my powers—gradually, almost imperceptible things that should have raised questions—but somehow, miraculously, my family still hadn’t noticed anything strange about me, or perhaps they noticed and chose to stay silent, which frightened me even more than being confronted outright.
I ran theory after theory through my mind, desperately searching for a way to heal my sister permanently, chasing hope down to it’s endless corridors only to smash headfirst into dead ends, until at last I arrived at the one conclusion I didn’t want to accept—Cursing her was the only solution left to me.
Even thinking outside the box, even twisting logic until it screamed, I couldn’t find another path that would actually work, and yet the fear of what the system suggested sat like a blade against my throat, because there was no guarantee—no promise—that my sister wouldn’t end up becoming the next so-called cursed child, feared and hunted by the world.
Still... I couldn’t let her die.
No matter how terrifying the method was, no matter how wrong it felt, if I did nothing then her future would end soon and tragically, the only way to reach a result where she lived—where she could walk, breathe, smile—without destroying everything she might become, was to tell my family what I planned to do before I ever acted.
At first, doubt gnawed at me relentlessly.
Was I really doing the right thing?
Would they panic if I spoke the word spreading my seed or cursing out loud?
They knew the legends, of course—everyone did—but legends were vague, soaked in fear and rumor, speaking only of violence and danger, never of possibilities or salvation. And now here I was, holding what could be called a cure, bought at the price of turning my sister into something no one truly understood.
The system had given me an opportunity— to be precise the opportunity—to save her.
But whether I should reveal it... that was another matter entirely.
I searched for subtle ways to explain it, gentler paths, half-truths that wouldn’t shatter their sense of safety—but I found none. In the end, I chose the only policy left to me: the truth. Not because it was easy, but because it was the least cowardly option I had.
After several deep breaths that did almost nothing to calm my racing heart, I called everyone over—everyone except that bastard Gustav. I didn’t trust him enough to expose my secret in front of him, not with something like this. Once I had their permission to speak, I forced myself to slow down, to choose each word carefully, because one wrong sentence could turn my family against me.
I had already died once.
I didn’t want to die again—especially not in this life, where my family was the one thing I truly had.
"How do I say this..." My voice felt dry, brittle.
"Everyone... I’m truly a devil’s child."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
"Before you freak out," I hurried on, staring at the floor, "I won’t feed on your flesh, and I can control myself. I have... powers. And because I’m a cursed child, I have a way to cure Oge’s illness. In the best-case scenario, she could walk again. She could live like a normal human."
"And the worst-case scenario?"
Elina suddenly chimed in, her voice trembled, heavy with fear and concern.
"At worst... she becomes like me." My fists clenched. "But I need you all to trust me."
I braced myself for what I had seen before—disgust, suspicion, that familiar hatred burned into my memory from the villagers’ eyes that day—but instead, footsteps approached me, and my heart nearly leapt out of my chest.
Elina stopped in front of me... and pulled me into a hug.
One by one, everyone joined, surrounding me in warmth I didn’t expect, and my vision blurred as she spoke.
"Silly child. There’s no need to worry. We already know you’re a cursed child. We didn’t abandon you when you were labeled a cursed child and a child of the devil back then—why would we do it now? We just want you to be happy. And if worse comes to worst..."
She smiled gently. "We would give you all our flesh if that’s what it took."
John laughed softly, ruffling my hair.
"Just be careful, son. Okay?"
I stood there, frozen, overwhelmed by trust so pure it hurt. To them, I wasn’t a monster—I was just their child.
After reaffirming the procedure—though the system still wouldn’t allow me to explain everything until the moment came—we prepared. The first phase was simple, though unbearably awkward. Despite being mentally old, I was trapped in the body of a four-and-a-half-year-old, and asking certain things—especially involving women—felt deeply wrong.
Oge was only twelve, still frail, still innocent.
I told her to lie down and waited as the system’s message reappeared.
I stared at the prompt for a long time.
If it were up to me, I would have refused.
But this wasn’t about me.
This was life or death.
I didn’t know whether Cursing my sister would be a gift or a damn curse—but I knew it was better than watching her die while I did nothing.
"Yes," I answered, forcing courage into my trembling resolve.
I ordered my parents and siblings to blindfold themselves. Oge was just a child—if they saw me carve open my hand, they would panic. I blindfolded myself as well; I didn’t want suspicion, didn’t want questions about what I was doing.