She made me scrub the temple floors until my fingers bled, but even then, she still urged me to continue. This was not out of necessity, but because the goddess demanded perfection.
The queen whipped me when I was too sick to do my daily tasks. She called it laziness—and laziness was one of the nine blasphemous vices.
She made me recite the entire history of the goddess, word for word. Failing to verbalize even one line correctly would result in the loss of a fingernail. But there was nothing I could've done.
Each month, I was examined by a seer to determine if I had been granted a blessing by the goddess. That was never the case. So, I was trained more harshly—but my scroll remained unimpressive, with no special abilities and only slightly above-average martial prowess.
I was a disappointment, and I would forever be trapped in the queen's... no, that demon's claws.
At least, that's what I thought, until she crossed the line.
'I've always hated my mother.'
And he had every right to—at least, that's what he thought.
His mother often warned him that sinning against the goddess would greatly diminish his chances of receiving a royal honor—a special blessing granted only to royalty—or worse, enrage the goddess enough to not only withhold her gift, but to weave a curse into his very being.
She would go to any length to ensure everyone in the palace was righteous before the goddess. She did this at the cost of her family's happiness.
'Was I wrong?... It doesn't matter. My mother's blood is in my hands.'
A voice knocked him back to reality.
"Excuse me, sir," said the coachman as he slowed the horse-drawn carriage. "We're almost there. See the sign over in the distance?"
Kuro, seated at the back of the carriage, looked through the rectangular opening. Along the sandy road stood a sign in the distance, hoisted above a steel gate.
"Yeah, I see it. And don't call me 'sir.' I'm not of royal blood anymore—remember that."
He stuck his hand out of the opening and touched the coachman's right shoulder, focusing his hazel eyes on him like a hawk as the man turned around.
"Call me that again and I'll have your head."
The coachman faced forward again. "Yes, Kurokawa."
After a few minutes, the carriage finally reached the gate. Right above it was a sign that read: WELCOME TO GREYMAN CITY.
A peculiar-looking man sat outside the gate, dressed more in rags than clothes. In his hand, he held a tin cup with two silver and one gold coin inside.
Kuro looked at the man and thought to himself:
'This man is obviously poor, but instead of finding something to do, he sits there expecting money to just be handed to him.'
He shook his head in disappointment as the peculiar-looking man glanced at him. To the man, it was quite clear: a handsome young man sitting in the back of a carriage drawn by the finest horses? Yes, this boy was rich.
The man gave a weak smile to Kuro, extending his cup. But Kuro simply scoffed as the carriage passed through the gate.
The man watched, jaw dropping, as the boy smiled at him—mockingly—while his carriage disappeared through the arch.
'Sorry, but nothing comes for free in this world. To earn, you must give something in return.'
The carriage crossed into the city, and the air itself changed. It carried the scent of smoke and industrial gas—something Kuro was far from used to. People inside the gates widened their eyes as they saw the carriage entering.
Kuro looked at them, an expression of disgust on his face.
'What's wrong with these people? Have they never seen a carriage before?'
The horses clicked their hooves against the cobblestone path, and the coachman looked back at Kuro.
"Mr. Kurokawa, how long will you be staying here, if you don't mind me asking?" he said with a gentle smile.
Kuro stared at that peaceful smile.
'Don't give me that fake courtesy. You're just dying to get rid of me.'
Still, he might as well answer him.
"Well, it all depends on your king. He's the one who sent me here as punishment. He said the monsters and spirits here will 're-discipline' me."
He looked out the window and saw a kid on her father's shoulders, laughing as if she knew no other expression.
"Honestly, sending me here was the best-case scenario. If it were someone else, they would've been executed on the spot."
The coachman looked at him with a bitter expression. "Your father is a very kind man. You should be thankful for him."
Kuro's eyes dulled. "My father is a fool. He's unfit to be a king. Kindness and ruling never work well together."
The coachman turned back toward the road. "Well, either way, Kurokawa, be careful. This city is home to many creatures, and you have not been blessed yet. Remember to always carry the dagger your sister packed for you."
Kuro sighed, then pulled a novel from his leather bag.
"I don't need a blessing from some goddess to survive. I'm more than capable."
They reached the designated house that had been purchased beforehand and began to unpack.
Across the street, staring through the window of a neighboring house, was a young man about Kuro's age. A frail middle-aged woman clung tightly to his shirt and sobbed, but all the young man's focus was on the boy who had just arrived in his neighborhood on a fancy carriage.
The young man touched the glass of his window as he stared at Kuro.
'A carriage like that doesn't come here by accident. I wonder why someone of your caliber would come here willingly?.'