The world was a cruel and unpleasant place. Kin knew that all too well. He wasn't ignorant of how unfair life could be. Both the young and the old, women and children—everyone was fair game in the chaotic game of life. No one was spared. Yet, sometimes, it felt as if life should leave the children out of its cruelty. At least give them a chance to grow, to stand for themselves. They were too weak, too fragile for the horrors life often threw their way.
But Kin also knew one immutable truth about life: fairness was never promised. At one point or another, everyone was a victim of its inequity. It wasn't exclusive—it was nature's cruel design.
Kin glanced at the children being led down into the basement of the house. He counted, eleven were present. His heart sank. He wasn't going to save eleven children all by himself. Not with the plan he had in his head. Truth be told, Kin wasn't sure he'd save anyone.
But maybe... just maybe, he could save one.
Maybe now, I can... I can save someone.
Kin's thoughts were interrupted as the woman from earlier reappeared. She surveyed the children, her gaze predatory and calculating. Most of them were in terrible condition—malnourished, bruised, and broken in spirit. She paused when her eyes landed on Kin.
"All but him," she said, pointing at Kin. "You, come with me. The rest stay here."
Two guards grabbed Kin by the arms and dragged him out of the basement, following the woman. She led them to a room in the house and dismissed the guards. When the door closed, Kin found himself alone with her and another man.
The man stood by the wall, completely unclothed, obscuring something—or someone—in front of him.
"Pumpkin," the man said, turning to the woman. "Don't tell me you want to play with the new toy already. It's too early."
"I know," she replied, pouting. "But look at this one! Isn't he lovely? Strong and durable. He won't break easily. Just like the last one you played with."
"Ah, yes, the last one." The man sighed. "You don't have to remind me—I was there, remember?"
As he shifted, Kin's eyes widened in horror. Chained to the wall was a girl, slightly older than him, barely alive. Her body bore evidence of prolonged torture, and her eyes, though open, were vacant, staring into nothingness.
Kin's fists clenched, his anger rising like a tide. How long had these monsters been at this? How many lives had they destroyed? He was about to act when a knock on the door interrupted.
"Who is it?" the woman barked.
"It's me, my Lady," a voice replied from outside.
"What do you want? I'm busy!"
"My Lady, Lord Goro requires your presence. He says it's urgent."
The man clicked his tongue. "See, Pumpkin? There's always work to be done this early in the morning. Let's put the toys away for now. We'll play with them tonight."
The woman let out a frustrated scream but turned back to Kin with a twisted smile. "When I return, it'll just be you and me," she promised darkly.
Kin stared back at her, his rage burning silently. The next time I see you, I'll kill you.
The man unchained the girl and called for the guards. "Take them both back to the others," he ordered. "And this one," he gestured at the girl, "she's no use anymore. Dispose of her by nightfall."
The guards dragged Kin and the girl back to the basement. Kin's heart ached as he looked at her fragile, broken form. She was alive, but just barely. Her body was covered in scars and bruises, her wrists marked from the chains.
"Ashell," Kin whispered, his voice trembling. "Can we save her?"
Silence reigned for a while causing Kin to call on Ashell again.
"Ashell"
"I can feel it..." Ashell replied, her voice somber. "Her grief is overwhelming. She's cursed."
"Cursed?" Kin asked, confused. "If she's cursed, why can't she fight back? Why is she so weak?"
"I don't know," Ashell admitted. "There must be a reason why her curse isn't manifesting like it should."
Kin clenched his fists, his anger bubbling beneath the surface. He wanted to kill the monsters responsible, but he would have to wait a while longer for that to happen.
He turned to Ashell.
"We'll examine her first," she said.
Kin knelt by the girl's side, holding her gently as Ashell worked. "She's suffered so much," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
"This world is cruel," Ashell said. "But her suffering is unlike anything I've seen. The curse she bears is one of despair. It was meant to sharpen her mind and body, to turn her into a weapon. But something broke in her before it reached her core. That's why she's like this—broken but alive."
Kin bit his lip. "Is there nothing we can do?"
Ashell was silent for a moment. "I've never seen anything like this, even among the gods. But I can try."
"You want to use your power?" Kin asked, alarmed.
"She needs help," Ashell said. "There's a way to guide her mind back to sanity. But it's dangerous. Entering a broken mind is like walking through a minefield. If I'm not careful, I could..."
"I'll do it," a younger voice said suddenly. Kin was still oblivious to the child inside Ashell, so he was unable to hear the child's voice.
To Kin, Ashell was silent, but inside her, she spoke to the girl.
"I can do it. I want to save her too." The child said
Ashell hesitated. "It's risky—too risky."
"I know, but he wants to, and I believe in him, just like you do Ashell"
Ashell sighed. "Alright. But we'll need to be careful. This won't be easy."
The child agreed ready to help.
Ashell looked at Kin, she saw how firm his resolve was and spoke. "We'll save her."