RAGAN POV...
Father almost shouted, the fury in his chest clearly clawing its way up his throat, but in the end he swallowed it all back, turning away slowly and walking toward Mother, who was still sobbing uncontrollably.
Before wrapping one arm around her and the other around me, holding us close as if his own body was the last wall standing between us and the world—this, perhaps, being the only comfort he could still offer.
Even as I rested against them, I could feel his thoughts hardening, crystallizing into something unyielding.
Even if I don’t want to leave... this is for the best.
’This world is cruel, and people are narrow-minded creatures who sharpen their knives at the sight of weakness.
If I keep ignoring them, one day they’ll do something even worse to my son.
I won’t allow that.’
His resolve settled like iron.
He gently took Mother’s trembling hand, wiping away her tears with slow, deliberate movements, brushing away her sniffles as well, his jaw clenched tightly—because her tears had always been his reverse scale, the one thing he could never endure, and now that line had been crossed far too many times.
"I won’t let you cry anymore," he whispered, more to himself than to her.
"Thank you... dear,"
Mother murmured weakly, forcing something close to a smile, and though her face was still wet with tears, I could feel the subtle flutter in her heart when she sensed Father’s unwavering determination.
It didn’t take long for the news to reach the boys’ parents.
They arrived in a hurry, fear written all over their faces, clearly expecting their children to be the victims of some misunderstanding—but the moment they stepped into the yard, every word died in their throats.
Blood.
Teeth scattered across the ground.
Wooden sticks soaked dark red.
They stood frozen, disbelief plastered across their faces, staring at their own children as if questioning reality itself, until the bloodstains on their clothes and the metallic stench in the air made denial impossible.
Even if they wanted to shield their sons, they couldn’t—not with so many eyes watching. It would’ve been like a thief denying a robbery while still holding the stolen gold and the bloody knife.
Father’s voice cut through the silence.
"You," he said coldly, pointing at Tom.
"Explain what they did to my son."
Tom flinched, still shaken by being hailed as a savior, but under the weight of everyone’s gaze, he stepped forward and told them everything—how the five boys had always hated me, how Gustav had tipped them off about my arrival, how they ambushed me with wooden sticks, fully intending to kill me, and how guilt finally crushed him when they were about to finish me off, forcing him to call for help.
When he finished, the yard fell into stunned silence.
The villagers stared in horror, unable to reconcile what they had just heard with the long-held belief that demon children were the dangerous ones—the ones who turned violent when attacked.
Then a man stepped forward.
He had thick brown hair, bulging frog-like eyes, and a broad nose—an older reflection of Felix himself—and his face was dark with restrained fury as he stared at his son.
"Talen," he said slowly, each word heavy, "how could you plot against another child and attempt something so unforgivable?"
Under the crushing weight of his father’s gaze and the countless eyes burning into him, Talen had no choice but to speak.
"As everyone knows," he said shakily, "he’s a cursed child. My friends and I hated that such an evil thing was allowed to live among us."
Perfect, I thought calmly.
’With Curser Charm and our connection as master and servant, I had already guided his thoughts where I wanted them.
Now it’s up to them to decide who the real monster is.’
I smiled faintly within Mother’s embrace.
"Enough," Talen’s father snapped.
"If he had attacked you, this would be a different matter—but he didn’t. So why did you assault him in broad daylight?"
He raised his hand, trembling with rage.
"When we get home, I will deal with you properly," he growled. "But first—tell everyone what you did."
Talen swallowed.
"It was Gustav’s idea," he said.
"He told us how the monster sold vegetables to his aunt. When we saw him alone, we ganged up on him. We broke his fingers when he tried to escape, broke his jaw when he screamed, shattered his limbs so he couldn’t fight back. We beat him until we thought he was dead."
A sharp intake of breath rippled through the crowd.
"What a poor child..." someone whispered.
Talen’s father let out a long, weary sigh, doubt briefly flickering in his eyes—until his gaze fell upon me, upon my swollen body, upon my ruined mouth and the unmistakable darkness of my eyes.
That doubt shattered instantly.
"If you weren’t my son," he said coldly.
"You’d be dead already. Our families have lived here for generations—your actions disgrace not just me, but all of us."
He turned sharply.
"From this day on, you will have nothing to do with that wretched boy Tim. You are forbidden from ever approaching this child again."
Then, glaring straight at Talen, he snarled,
"Apologize. Now. To his parents—and to the innocent child you nearly murdered."
The others followed suit, one after another, confirming Talen’s words. One tried to blame his parents, but a sharp slap across the face silenced him immediately.
’Idiots,’
I thought, suppressing a grin.
’Your credibility is already less than zero.
Say whatever you want—it’ll only sound like the pathetic excuses of criminals caught red-handed.’
As I lay there, broken and bleeding, cradled by my parents, I knew something irrevocable had changed.
The village had drawn its blade.
And now... it would have to live with the consequences.
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.]
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