Meilyr.

What do people think of when they hear our family's surname? There are probably a lot but even I could tell that none of those opinions were good.

"Incarnations of the devils."

"Loyal dogs of the mad emperor."

"Tyrants of the black society."

We're so famous for all the wrong reasons to the point that if anyone dared to take note of all the dirty things related to our family, it wouldn't be a stretch to say that the list would be long enough to reach the other continents.

Knowing that, you'd probably have the gist of what kind of family I've been born in.

Now, here comes the dubious part.

Am I really a Meilyr? I've taken a lot of tests to make sure their blood runs through my veins.

I'm ashamed to say it does.

It'd be better if I was some kind of illegitimate child though.

"Kyaaaa! H-Help me! Someone save me! Please!"

Fuck.

My inner thoughts were interrupted by the sound of people screaming. Distressing voices echoed from the direction of the basement, traumatizing me to a halt.

Past the yelling for help is a peal of laughter—cold, bone-chilling, almost demonic in nature.

Even though I couldn't see who it was, I knew from the maniacal tone that it was my eldest brother Drystan. He's at it again with that sickening hobby of torturing slaves.

'To be born in this dirty place is so embarrasing...'

Clenching my fists, I resist the urge to vomit and walk in the other direction. I went inside my room and closed the door. This was the only place where I could feel safe, an area where I believe to be separated from the rest of the world.

'No one can hurt me here. Nothing can reach me.'

Today, I once again vowed to live like this until the day I die.

All while not knowing that soon, two people are going to shatter my dreams, stomp on them, burn them using the flames of hell, and scatter their ashes along the wind with a smile while dancing merrily.