Eaten By The Tyrant I Raised - 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 His withdrawn manner did not suit a child.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-”

“It’s okay, Ryne,” Ronée interrupted her. After all, everybody knew that she was a child of Count Rieda in nothing but name. Even all the high society aristocrats who had never once seen her face knew it.

Nabel looked at her with confused eyes. “Aren’t you going to ask?” he questioned stiffly. Ronée cocked her head slightly. “What?”

“How I became a slave.” At Nabel’s words, Ronée shook her head.

It was obvious, even if she did not ask. His parents must have been slaves. Such a young boy could not have committed any crime.

“I don’t have to ask about your painful past.”

The life that he had lived up until now was unlikely to be a happy one. Nabel’s eyes widened a little at her words. “Then, do you trust me?” he said softly.

Ronée was about to reply when he spoke again.

“The slave trader was telling the truth. I attacked people. The people who tried to buy me.” Nabel’s eyes were asking her, ‘Despite that, do you still trust me? How can you put your trust in me and let me into your sanctuary?’

Ronée’s small sanctuary. In this huge manor, her only safe haven was this one shabby room. A room whose door was not even oiled and creaked as it opened and closed. If she let something dangerous in, it would be the same as losing her only safe place.

Although it was his first time in this place, Nabel could tell right away. It was not just because he had good intuition – this child, with his mature gaze, was used to being surrounded by enemies.

Nabel looked up at Ronée silently. This person did good turns without hesitation. He was not sure if it was because she was young or if she had other reasons.

But it did not seem like she bore any ill intentions — it was nothing but simple kindness. How wonderful and strange.

Nabel had never seen anyone like Ronée. “I’m dangerous,” he said in a low voice, like a small beast growling.

Ronée was suddenly reminded of the look Nabel had given the knight who had treated her roughly. Just like that time, he seemed like an injured beast. A young beast hiding its wounds, its fur bristling, warning you not to come any closer.

“People who are truly dangerous don’t say that they are.” The reason Ronée knew was that her house was full of such truly dangerous people.

The stepmother who had once approached her with a kind smile had turned hostile as soon as they discovered that holy magic did not affect her. That was when she was only six.

Then suddenly,

“Ronée-!” A furious, screeching voice echoed from the hallway. Ronée flinched and turned her gaze towards the door. Her stepmother was calling.