RAGAN POV...
"My child—my Ragna! What happened to him?!"
The moment Mother’s voice broke through the chaos, I felt her presence rush toward me like a collapsing dam, and even through my half-closed eyes, blurred by blood and swelling, I could see her sprinting forward in sheer panic, the sight of my battered body pushing her straight to the edge of tears she could no longer hold back.
She tried to speak again, but no words came—everything she wanted to say drowned in sobs, and for the first time in her life, I could feel her hesitation, her confusion, torn between screaming at Aunt Gloria for letting this happen, lunging at the children who had done this to me, or calling Father with a voice already breaking apart.
Her eyes brimmed over as she knelt beside me, arms trembling as she gathered me up, pulling me tightly into her embrace, lifting me from the cold ground and laying me gently against her chest as though holding me too firmly might cause me to shatter.
Within minutes, Aunt Lilith’s backyard began to fill.
Villagers arrived one after another, murmurs spreading like wildfire, and soon after, the families of the boys were dragged in as well, forced to witness the cruel scene with their own eyes—because something like this was far too serious to be buried under excuses and silence.
Mother sat in the corner, clutching me close, refusing to speak to anyone, her sobs silent but endless.
When Father finally arrived, her restraint broke.
Tears streamed down her face as she muttered broken words only he could hear, and without hesitation, he wrapped both of us in his arms, holding us for a long moment, his breathing heavy and uneven as he checked my condition with shaking hands.
I could feel it—the tension in him, the fury barely contained.
His fists clenched so tightly that I thought the skin might split, and when he finally stood up, his gaze swept across the yard, immediately locking onto the five culprits... and the so-called hero standing among them.
"Lilith," he said, his voice pale yet firm, eyes staring straight into hers.
"Please call their parents again. And don’t tell my girls anything about what happened today. I don’t want them to know."
Even as he spoke calmly, his hands trembled uncontrollably, rage struggling violently against restraint, his knuckles whitening as he forced himself not to explode.
From the moment he arrived, shock had clung to him like a second skin—everything Aunt Lilith had told him sounded unreal, and yet the truth was sprawled right in front of his eyes, bleeding and broken.
At first, he couldn’t believe it.
He couldn’t believe that even his own child would plot against his younger brother, conspiring with village children, pushing things this far.
No matter how strained things were between Gustav a and me, Father had never imagined Gustav could be so heartless—so cruel—as to think of disposing of his own blood.
Refusing to play together was one thing.
But attacking me... simply because of rumors?
That disappointment cut deeper than anger.
As his thoughts unraveled, I could almost feel the moment everything clicked into place for him—who else could have known about me selling vegetables to Aunt Lilith?
Only three possibilities existed: me, Lilith, or family... and among them, only one child had both motive and resentment.
Gustav.
Realizing that someone inside our own family had betrayed that secret—used it to orchestrate an ambush against me—made Father so furious I thought he might kill someone on the spot.
That realization shattered something he had long ignored.
He had believed the village was finally softening.
He had believed I was finally being accepted.
He had believed we might not need to run away after all.
From the day I was born, I had never harmed anyone.
I worked harder than others.
I saved Oge’s life.
I cared only for my family.
And yet—
Father stood there as though time itself had stopped, memories tearing through him all at once.
"Answer me,"
He said suddenly, his voice dropping into something cold and terrifying as he glared at the boys in the corner, "what has my son ever done to you, you little pieces of sh*t?"
The yard fell silent.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Their blank stares—those faces pretending innocence—only fueled his madness, and I could feel how close he was to strangling them with his bare hands.
"How could you do this to a child?" he demanded, stepping forward, eyes blazing with fire and ice.
"To another human being?"
"You call that thing human?" Talen suddenly shouted, his voice shaking as terror soaked through him.
"He’s nothing but a monster! He deserves to die!"
Father took another step forward, his hands lifting instinctively, itching to strike.
"You dare call him a monster?" he roared. "What has he ever done to you?!"
But then—he stopped.
Mother’s expression caught his eye.
Even through her tears, there was something terrifyingly calm about her, like a storm waiting beneath still waters, and in that moment, I knew she had already made her decision.
Once I turned five...
Once Belle was fully healed...
We would leave.
Father exhaled slowly, forcing himself to pull back from the edge, knowing her resolve matched his own.
"Is this what it means to lose both a battle and a war?" he muttered bitterly.
"I’m tired... I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve been accused, cursed, blamed—yet we never once wronged anyone."
His voice cracked.
"Do they want us to hate them so badly? We’ve never fought anyone over land, never made enemies. Even my father’s many wives never caused conflict here."
Then his voice rose, trembling with fury barely restrained.
"I want them to pay. I want them to feel it—just once—to know what it’s like to watch your child suffer in front of you and be completely helpless."
He didn’t scream again.
Instead, he turned around quietly, walked back to Mother, and wrapped his arms around us both, holding us close.
And as I lay there—broken, bleeding, cradled in their embrace.
I knew the village had already lost something it would never get back.