I have lived my life beneath a veil of fear, resentment, and cold calculations. My earliest memory is a blur of screams, smoke, and the sight of crimson flames devouring my home. I was only three years old when my parents were murdered—ripped away from me in a single, bloody night. The nobles of the Crow family were not just rulers of a prosperous county; they were my family, my world. And in an instant, they were gone.
I became an orphan, but even that wasn't enough for the gods to pity me. The Cult of the Crescent Moon found me before I could be taken in by the retainers of my fallen house. They plucked me from the wreckage like a forgotten toy, dragging me into the depths of their world—a world where shadows rule and humanity is discarded like trash.
That was when they branded me, etching their curse deep into my heart. The magic twisted into my very soul, a chain that binds me tighter than any iron shackle. It is no ordinary curse; it listens, it watches, and it feeds. A constant reminder that I am nothing but a tool—an expendable pawn for the Crescent Moon's schemes. It monitors my every breath, my every word, and if I ever try to betray them, the curse will squeeze my heart until it stops. I am alive only because they need me to be.
At first, the weight of the curse broke me. I spent years drowning in despair, trapped between the ghosts of my family and the suffocating grip of the Crescent Moon. Death was always at the back of my mind, a seductive escape from a life I could no longer endure. I thought about it often.
"End it. Jump from the tower. Drink the poison. Anything to escape."
But then, something changed.
It was the year Raimon Flower entered the Institute. I overheard whispers, casual discussions between students about a new project the study of ancient bloodlines. They spoke of theories, breakthroughs, and possibilities. Raimon and his friends, Kira and Cedric, were diving into the mysteries of lineage, trying to untangle the secrets hidden in the blood that flows through our veins. That was when a sliver of hope ignited in my heart for the first time in years.
"What if they could help me?"
Bloodlines are not just about power. They are the key to curses, the key to control. If anyone could figure out a way to sever the chains that bind me, it would be them. But the opportunity slipped through my fingers—Raimon left the Institute soon after, and the hope I had found crumbled into frustration and rage.
I became reckless, desperate to find answers on my own. I knew I had to act while I still had time. So, during the break when Raimon returned to his family, I broke into the research wing.
"I didn't care about consequences."
I needed to know if there was a way out—if there was even the slightest chance of freedom from the curse that strangled me every day.
But it was a mistake. I found nothing of real value—only scraps of notes that hinted at possibilities beyond my reach. And worse, my actions put me in direct conflict with Raimon. Now, he sees me as a threat, a spy, a saboteur. And I have no way to explain myself.
"The curse won't let me."
Whenever I try to speak of my situation, the words die on my tongue, and my chest tightens as if my heart were being squeezed by an invisible hand. The curse ensures that I can't betray the Crescent Moon—not with words, not with actions.
"All I can do is hope."
This year is my final chance. "When the school year ends, I will be forced to graduate." And once I leave the safety of the Institute, the organization will no longer see me as useful. They will throw me into the battlefield—just another expendable pawn, cannon fodder for their twisted ambitions. I cannot let that happen. I refuse to become a corpse in service to monsters.
Somehow, I need to speak with Raimon. I need him to see beyond the misunderstanding, to understand that I am not his enemy. But how can I make him listen when I cannot tell him the truth?
I've studied him closely this past year.
"He is different from the others."
Calm, intelligent, and precise, but with a sense of justice that runs deep. He isn't just strong—he is someone who understands the weight of responsibility, someone who fights for more than just himself. I know that if anyone in this cursed world can help me, it's Raimon Flower.
The problem is, I don't know how much longer I can keep pretending.
"Every day, the curse tightens its grip on me."
My thoughts grow darker, more desperate. I can feel the edges of my sanity fraying, the madness lurking just beneath the surface. And yet, I can't stop. I won't stop. "I have to find a way out."
If I fail, I will die—either by the hands of the Crescent Moon or on some battlefield, my blood spilled in service to a cause I hate. But if I succeed... If I can convince Raimon to help me, "I might have a chance at freedom."
A chance to reclaim my life, my future, and the legacy stolen from me.
I clutch my chest, feeling the familiar ache as the curse stirs, reminding me of its presence.
"Time is running out."
This year will be my last chance to break free. And no matter what it takes, no matter how dangerous it becomes, I will find a way to speak with Raimon.
Because I refuse to be a pawn. Not anymore.