I Am A Daughter Loved By The Devil - Chapter 1
Chapter 1 – The Baby Met Her Dad
Beep-
The ship has docked.
“Ah, Cwount … wai … (Ah, Count … why …)”
“It’s for the family, you dirty girl. Die well.”
No. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m scared.
I don’t want to die!
“Hold on.”
“Arf, Arf, Arf!”
A giant, drooling hound barked ferociously at me.
“Ah!!!”
I was desperately trying to run away from that shabby place, but I got a sore ankle and fell down on the ground.
“Ah! It hurts! It hurts …!”
A burning pain prevented me from breathing.
My eyes blacked out.
The hound’s sharp teeth and dripping saliva threatened me.
This was not a fear that a young child like me could endure.
My whole body trembled, and my eyes filled with tears, blurring my vision. When I looked down at the floor, I was soaked in red blood.
“You are a seed of the ugly devil.”
That’s what I heard before I died.
I laughed for the first time when I saw my cold face always shaking with fear.
My uncle dragged me by my hair and soon threw me in the corner.
No matter how much I endure, I can’t get used to it. No matter how hard I try to believe, the pain doesn’t go away.
I could see a silver flash in my dead eyes.
chop.
I just had my neck cut off.
* * *
“I’m going to keep the poison!”
I mumbled again what I had practiced about 666 times with a rotten wooden piece of scarlet mushroom in front of me as a doll.
Is it because I don’t eat it properly? Or is it because I’m undernourished?
I was five years old, yet my body was still small.
My tongue must have not developed well, so even if I tried to pronounce something correctly, the support of the system disappeared.
I was agitated, but once again, my mouth slowly opened and murmured.
“The curpirt is tat bastart Count Abrang. (The culprit is that bastard Count Abrang.)”
It wasn’t easy, but I was very proud of doing it. This was a very important sentence for my survival.
I have to practice well in order not to die.
I spoke the next sentence without a break.
“The gold and coins are pretty; they’re mine.”
It was a rather difficult sentence to spit out with the tongue of a baby.
I practiced the most important words, pushing my hands politely together.
“Ples give mye myoney. (Please give me money.)”
With gold.
I don’t know if anyone else would ever see me.
They would ask me why I am crazy about money.
If you condemn someone as the culprit, you’ll be asked if you ever got paid.
But I was a little kid who was only as tall as an adult man’s knee.
No matter how much I like money, I can’t get a contract from someone like this.
All my desperate babbling was in order to save my life.
“You’ll have to apply again ….”
That way, you’ll be able to sit at the negotiating table and play hard to get. This is why my pronunciation is so awkward.
I thought everything would be easy when I was about five years old, but I still had the growth of someone around the age of three or four.
I slumped in my seat in the dark.
There was no one to stop me.
I’m the only one in this room anyway.
I looked down at what I was doing and sighed for the 667th time.
Long hair that has never been cut in life covered my face, so I couldn’t see well. My dusty clothes were worn out, making it hard to tell the original color.
I don’t think anything needs to be said regarding child abuse.
But no one can save me.
Well, I can’t leave because I’m locked up.
I didn’t have anything to eat, so I puffed my cheeks and looked up at the old silver door.
I’ve never been out of that door in my life.
I live in this house, but I’m like a ghost.
But it’s going to open today, right?
There was a hole under the door. It was originally used by the hounds raised in this house, but it has now become my rice bowl.
So now we should call it a rice hole.
I couldn’t escape through there because I was locked inside.
I know it because I’ve tried everything.
I barely had enough stamina to keep my eyes open, so it was best not to do anything without a reason.
I couldn’t do anything with my hands that were as small as a baby duck’s foot
Rumbling.
The muscles in my stomach started contracting and made a rumbling sound as I pinched and scolded the little flesh I had on my belly.
“Stop it!”
A child has to eat when he’s hungry.
But an unloved child has to starve even if he’s hungry.
I looked out of the tall window and noticed that the ‘time’ was still a long way from coming.
Let’s just practice pronunciation more.
There will be important days soon. I’ve been holding out for the events that are going to happen.
I opened my mouth once more while holding back my tears caused by hunger.
“I’m here to rweceive the suppwort twhat you have neglwected me, dwad. (I’m here to receive the support that you have neglected me, dad)”
* * *
I am the daughter of a saint.
So why am I being locked up like this?
The reason was simple.
I was a cursed girl who killed her mother as soon as she was born.
But that wasn’t the only problem.
“Nerephom.”
According to El-Halla’s doctrine that half the people of the Empire believed in, God has told humans that Nerephom would protect them after creating the world.
Nerephom was an angel who lived in the paradise of God that no man can reach and wielded holy power.
Nerephom personally selects humans and gives them his protection. Such people are known as saints or paladins.
They are special people that can use the power of Nerephom.
The direct descendants of the Holy See and the Knights of the Holy See are born with dazzling silver hair.
Conversely, ‘The Devil’.
According to the doctrine, he was Nerephom’s old enemy. He was evil and wicked.
Those who believe in demons also exist in the empire, which is also only half of the people of the Empire.
The ugly enemies of Nerephom, people possessing evil powers, were characterized by dark hair.
God’s ninth daughter, who came down to the world to kill the devil and save mankind, was the saint Arcella Evell Lang.
My mother was as beautiful as a lily, and of course, she had silver hair.
But one day, my mother appeared before the family, pregnant.
It was impossible.
No matter how much the family asked, my mother did not tell them who the father of the child was.
But the secret that seemed to be taking me to my grave was solved the day I was born.
Since I was a child of my mother, I had to inherit her silver hair as evidence that I was protected by Nerephom.
But I was born … with black hair.
It was ridiculous. The entire family was turned upside down, and I was quickly hidden.
On the surface, I was never born and my mom died of a sudden illness.
I didn’t want to be born with black hair, but that’s how it turned out.
I pushed my mouth out a little, dissatisfied.
My uncle and aunt hated me a lot. No, everyone in this family hated me.
My aunt hated me from the beginning, saying that the devil’s seed had ruined my mother, and wanted me to die.
My uncle said he was not promoted in the palace because of me. He could have become a captain, but he lost that chance.
He was angry with me all the time.
Because my mother died suddenly, the poem master of God’s ninth daughter passed away.
The dream of the Blanc family of gaining more power disappeared with the ninth saint and the tenth god’s daughter was about to come down.
If an old saint dies, a new saint will be born in ten years.
In technical terms, the uncle became a duck egg on the Nustaf River.
As a result, I was abandoned.
The maid who changed my clothes only came to Ha Lu once per day.
I was taught how to write once a week by a butler who came once a week.
Other than that, there were no other visitors.
They’re very bad people. How could they treat a child like this.
I puffed my cheeks.
I have to leave as soon as possible. Otherwise, I’m sure I will get killed
When my legs grow properly, I will be able to walk alone for a long time
Then I’ll go far away.
But where do I go when I don’t have money?
I was quite a rational, calculating child.
A pessimistic five-year-old who worries about his livelihood.
I wasn’t reckless and emotional, so I didn’t believe everything would work out.
Money!
The butler and the maid know how much money it costs to raise me, with their tongues clenched every time they see me.
Of course, I don’t know how much it costs, but I know that I need money in order to live.
Then I’ll get the money!
But I can’t even get out of this cramped room.
Nobody in this house was on my side. I smiled hard at the people who came to see me, but coldness was all I got in return.
A child that should not have been born.
It would have been easier to just kill me, so why did they keep me alive? It was only on my birthday earlier this year that I came to know the reason.
* * *
“It’s my fault! It’s my faul— Ah!”
It snowed a lot, so I shuddered and fell asleep in the morning. My birthday was as cold as usual.
That morning, after nearly three months, my aunt came to see me.
“You ruined my sister’s life! Die! Die!”
Standing by the door and staring at me, she suddenly started screaming and hitting and scratching me.
The soft skin on my face couldn’t protect me against my aunt’s fingernails, and my face started burning here and there.
“It’s because of you. If it weren’t for you, my sister wouldn’t have died. You killed her!”
“Aunt, Aunt … I’m sorry. I’m sorry … It’s my fault ….”
I got down on my knees, put my hands together, and begged again and again.
“Come on, repeat after me. I killed my mom. My mom died when I was born. Repeat after me!”
But no matter how much I cried, the violence wouldn’t stop..
In the end, I had no choice but to follow my aunt’s coercion, shivering and squatting on the floor.
“My mom, my mom …”
“Is dead.”
“I killed … her.”
“Yes that’s right, you killed her. Write it on this paper. You know how to write, don’t you? You learned.”
Aunt smiled satisfactorily and held out a piece of paper in front of me.
“Ah …”
I looked at the stack of paper with a blank face.
Yes, I did learn. The first sentence that the butler taught me was neither my name nor my family name.
“You won’t get any rice until you write a hundred reflections. You won’t be hungry on the day you ate your mom. I’m sure you’re not so conscienceless. Isn’t that right?”
That night I suffered for a long time.
I lay on the wooden floor with hollow eyes and looked up at the dusty ceiling.
[I’m the daughter who ate her mother.]
It wasn’t a hundred times the same sentence, but I don’t know how much more my wrist would have hurt if I wrote it a hundred times, and at one point there was no more space.
I killed my mom. That’s why I’m getting punished.
I’m a bad kid.
I’m a devil who shouldn’t have been born.
I just have to die.
I just have to …
‘I don’t … want to die.”
I want to live, too.
“Mom … ”
The fever has gone up.
I had four long dreams after I fainted while holding my wrist. Those dreams were so vivid that I … I couldn’t forget them.
All four dreams had the same beginning.
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