Lucy lay peacefully on my lap, with a smile that broke my heart. I could still remember her last words:
"Dad and Mum are here," she said, pointing into the dark alley. For a moment, her hand stayed raised—then it dropped.
I was hurt... and badly wanted to cry, but I couldn't remember how.
Beyond her beautiful face were dry lips, broken nails, and bloodied bruises—proof of the suffering we endured together.
"I can't feel my legs anymore," I muttered.
My lower body felt numb, but none of that mattered. It was almost time.
I glanced at the spot Lucy had pointed at. Back then, I couldn't see it—but I could now. Mum still wore that gown Dad bought for her birthday. She clung to his firm, strong hands and smiled at me.
Dad stood beside her with a gentle smile. He held Lucy in his arms, and all three of them waved at me with warmth in their eyes.
"Da-d..." I gasped as the waterworks broke—but I had no more tears left to cry.
Blood rolled down my cheeks as I wept harder than I ever had. My vision blurred, my thoughts turned foggy, and the darkness crept in from all sides. Strangely, a sense of peace crept into my chest.
"Finally," I gasped. "I can finally leave this wicked world…"
---
It was dark and lonely here. Lucy, Dad, and Mum were nowhere to be seen—but the pain was gone. My throat wasn't dry. My belly didn't ache. My chest didn't burn.
It was a big improvement from the suffering I left behind. So, I couldn't complain.
"Get up. It's not your time yet."
The voice was melodic, and with it came a whole new world. It was sudden—I found myself lying on cool ground, staring at a night sky filled with stars and a crescent moon.
To my left, I heard the crackle of fire. Warmth touched my skin. Yet somehow, I felt nothing—not fear, not joy. Just... calm.
I turned toward the fire. Behind it sat a man—probably the most beautiful man I had ever seen. He had long black hair with streaks of purple cascading over his shoulders. His pale skin glittered under the moonlight.
His lashes were long, and his eyes shimmered with a violet hue. His lips were painted black, just like his nails. He wore an elegant, traditional Chinese-style robe, marked with purple skulls.
"Who are you?" I asked, unafraid.
He looked at me with warmth—as if we were long-lost lovers.
"Death," he said simply.
I nodded, strangely understanding. I wondered if Lucy had met this man too. I turned back to the stars and sighed.
"I'm ready," I muttered, closing my eyes.
But his laughter caught me off guard.
I opened them again and glared at him. "What's funny?"
He chuckled again, covering his lips as he glanced away like he was trying not to burst out.
I sat up. "Is there something on my face?"
"Do you think death is the answer for you?" he asked.
I frowned. What did he know about living? About suffering? I should've been angry, but I couldn't summon the feeling.
Something was wrong with me, I knew that. But I had to hear what Death had to say.
"What do you mean?" I asked dully.
"The world follows a cycle—life, death, rebirth. Once you leave this place, there's no peace. Your memory is wiped clean, and you're tossed back into the world. If you're lucky, you might be born a noble."
Tueh.
I spat on the ground and wiped my lips with the back of my hand.
"So why am I here?"
This man reminded me of a merchant—convincing you that what you had was worthless before selling you something shiny and overpriced.
"Because I have an offer for you."
His smile grew mischievous. He stood, walked over, crouched beside me, and stretched out his hand.
"I offer you magic like never before. A power that can topple empires—the power of Death itself."
His voice was melodic, enchanting. I found myself watching his lips as he spoke. I shook myself out of it and looked away.
He smiled again, clearly amused. Was this part of the devil's tactic? Seduction through beauty?
"What's the catch?!" I blurted out, dragging myself back. "And stay back!"
If someone was going to tempt me to sell my soul, at least let it be a lady—not a beautiful man!
He laughed again—soft, musical, annoying.
Then he rose to his feet and extended his hand once more.
"There are things I can't reveal. This power will pull you into battles far beyond this world... struggles of the heavens. But if you survive long enough, you'll become a god."
His tone shifted—firmer, colder.
"If you survive."
I saw it in his eyes. Pain. Fury. Hatred. The kind I wore every day watching people walk past me and Lucy in that alley—pretending we didn't exist.
"With this power, you can avenge your parents and your sister. You can punish everyone who made her suffer. And most importantly, if you reach Godhood… you can bring them back. Lucy, Richard, and Martha…"
Ba-dum!
My heart pounded. My blood boiled. His words struck something buried deep inside me.
The truth was—I didn't want to die.
I wanted to live.
I wanted to make them pay for what they did to Lucy—for the way she cried herself to sleep every night while the world ignored us.
"I want to kill them for killing us," I muttered, clutching my chest.
This emptiness wouldn't let me cry or scream the way I wanted to. I was broken. And maybe only vengeance could fix me.
"Then revenge you shall have," he said. "All you need to do is take my hand."
This time, I didn't hesitate. I reached for him.
His smile stretched into something wider. Darker. Almost sinister.
But before our hands touched, a blinding light filled my eyes—and for a moment, everything disappeared.
---
My eyes fluttered open, but the world was a blur. All I could hear were whispers and gasps—I was confused.
Slowly, my vision cleared, and I found myself in the same smelly alley. People were gathered at the entrance. They covered their noses and whispered among themselves. I couldn't make out what they were saying.
"Step aside!"
A sharp, annoyed voice cut through the crowd.
They quickly made way for three men dressed in long, dark woolen coats with brass buttons. Each wore a tricorn hat and knee-length trousers tucked into tall boots. Wooden batons hung from their belts.
"City guards," I groaned and turned my attention to Lucy.
Her peaceful face looked even paler, and the stench had worsened—but I didn't care. I was going to take her with me until I found a proper place to bury her.
The gasps grew louder when I moved. People pointed at me in horror as I stood up with her body in my arms. They must have thought we were both dead, and that was why they dared to look.
Even the guards couldn't meet my gaze. Their eyes jumped between Lucy and me while they drew their batons.
"On your knees!"
One guard barked, voice shaky.
He had a slim face and a fat nose. His hands trembled, and fear clouded his eyes. But he wasn't alone. The crowd had stopped looking at me with disgust—now it was fear.
"I SAID, GET ON YOUR KNEES!"
Another guard shouted, but I noticed a dark stain growing on his trousers. He had peed himself.
"Why are they so afraid?" I muttered, confused.
I didn't know what was more surprising—their fear, or the fact that I wasn't afraid at all. A fifteen-year-old standing in front of a crowd and armed guards, and I felt… calm?
Why do I feel nothing?
{Have you forgotten? You are no longer like them. You have magic now—very powerful magic. Its influence changes people. It changes things. It will change you over time… This is just the beginning.}
Death's voice returned, soft and whispery in my ear. I felt his presence—soothing and intoxicating. I looked over my shoulder, hoping to see his beautiful face, but what I saw instead explained everything.
Behind me was thick darkness. It felt heavy. From it, shadowy tendrils flanked my sides. I didn't know how, but I felt connected to them. A single thought, and they would act.
"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE!"
A sharp, commanding voice echoed with a noble's accent.
I frowned and turned in that direction. Onlookers scattered. No one dared block his path—they knew the price of crossing a noble. The city guards dropped their heads at once.
"L-Lord Blackwood! W-We weren't expecting you!"
The lead guard stammered.
Slowly, Lord Blackwood stepped into view—a towering man, easily 6'5", with long gray hair resting on his shoulders. For someone in his fifties, he was built like a warrior.
He wore a fitted jacket with a high waist, over a wide-collared shirt embroidered in blue. His trousers stopped at the knees, tucked into long silk socks. A flowing blue cape trailed behind him—it looked ridiculous.
He looked at me, then at Lucy, then beyond me. His eyes narrowed.
"Can't you see that child possesses a talent for magic?"
I frowned. I was filthy, bloody, and thin—carrying a corpse—yet all he saw was magic?
The city guards looked at me again. All three dropped to their knees and slammed their heads against the ground.
"WE'RE SORRY WE DIDN'T NOTICE YOU, MAGUS!" they screamed, and without waiting for a response, they ran out of the alley like frightened cats.
Now, only Lord Blackwood remained. And only now did I realize how terrifying he truly was.
The alley was wide enough for three guards to walk side by side, yet somehow, he alone filled the entire space. His eyes gleamed with the sharpness of someone who had seen too much war.
But even now—I felt nothing. No fear. No awe.
I hated him, but it didn't show. Just a slight frown. Every strong emotion came with a dull, empty aftertaste. Even hate felt incomplete.
Is this normal?
"What's your name?"
His voice was heavy, like a hammer striking a bell. It was a question, but it sounded like a command.
"Derek," I said.
He nodded and stretched out a hand toward me.
I wanted to throw up. Watching this noble mimic Death's graceful gesture filled me with disgust.
"You have strong magic, but no backing. If left alone, you may end up like the little one in your hands… without ever realizing your potential. Join the Blackwood family. I will treat you well."
My head tilted. Was this man stupid?
A noble like him was the reason I ended up like this. I was about to curse and reject him, but Death's voice came first.
{Accept his offer. To survive, you need a foothold. He didn't kill your parents, but through him, you can find those who did.}
I clenched my fists, conflicted. I didn't want to accept, but even my resistance felt hollow. Every emotion had that same empty feeling.
I clutched my chest, trying to understand what was happening to me.
{You will get used to it. Trust me.} Death whispered.