Chapter 3 - Accursed Child (1/2)

Chapter 3 – Accursed Child

Nabel soon emerged from the bath. He showed none of the sense of unfamiliarity with being clean that one would expect from someone who had been raised as a slave.

“…?” His hair definitely seemed like it was golden before… Ronée thought as she looked at him coming out of the bathroom. After bathing, his hair was now black as ebony. There was also a mysterious necklace that was glittering on his chest. She had not noticed that before either.

The reason why Ronée was able to see the necklace now was that the clothes that Nabel had worn were too big for his body. He was actually wearing a bathrobe that Ryne had prepared for Ronée to use.

“Nabel…” Ronée murmured to herself. She could finally see him properly now that he was clean.

Without the dust and bloodstains, Nabel looked more like a child of noble birth than a slave. The wounds on his neck and wrists were obviously still fresh while the rest of his skin was pale and flawless as if he had lived the life of a prince.

“…….” It seemed like he had heard her murmuring. Nabel was staring at her silently.

“My name is Ronée de Rieda.” The cursed seventeen-year-old daughter of the House of Rieda. A person who was awaiting the word of the temple’s Oracle. A person who was awaiting her final judgement.

A person who had been reported, by her stepmother, to the temple as the one who had turned away from the hands of the gods just because the holy magic had not affected her.

And one day, the temple would give her an answer. She, who was unaffected by the gods’ holy magic, was considered as an evil existence.

“de Rieda…” Nabel muttered. It was an aristocratic name.

Although he was young, it seemed that he understood. Ronée eyed him. He certainly looked younger than her.

“…It’s a meaningless name. As you saw before, outside.” Ronée waved towards the door. She was referring to the abuse from those people she called parents. Nabel glanced at the door and then back at her. His withdrawn manner did not suit a child.

Ronée could understand not wanting to act like a child as well. Her parents would not abide by her childish begging and crying. She had to grow up quickly as she endured her life in that house, awaiting the temple’s judgement.

“How old are you?”

“Twelve this year,” Nabel replied.

Do twelve-year-old kids usually talk like that? Ronée tilted her head a little. “I’m seventeen.” Of course, she probably did not look like a seventeen-year-old girl either. The eyes of those two people who had to grow up too fast met.

“A five-year gap. You’re like my older sister, then.” At Nabel’s words, Ryne, who had been standing next to them, was startled with astonishment.

“Hey, you can’t call her that!” Having stifled Nabel, she carried on, “It’s a good thing that the Lady is forgiving. How dare you call her with such familiarity as a slave-”