Before the maid could grab me, I weaved to the side. She staggered to recover, but I didn't give her the chance. I bolted toward the door, desperate to escape, to call for help, to alert someone--anyone--about the crazed maid.
But I didn't make it.
She caught my leg mid-sprint and yanked me to the floor, dragging me to her side. I kicked--wild, frantic kicks to her arms, her face, her chest--but they did nothing. No matter how hard I fought, she was unmoved.
Pinned beneath her, I finally saw her face clearly. It was beautiful--almost unnaturally so, like every devil's--but there was a feverish hunger in her eyes. Something feral.
"Ma-Master Ray," she panted, drooling as her gaze locked onto my face. "Don't worry... it won't be as bad as you think."
My curse flared.
The moment she looked at me, the madness took over completely. Her desire, magnified a hundredfold, obliterated reason. She wasn't just affected--she was consumed.
Panicking, my eyes darted across the room, searching for something--anything--that could help. But she was already on top of me.
She tore open my shirt.
A pink mist spilled from her lips as she leaned in. I tried to block her, to turn my head, but her grip was iron. Her mouth crashed onto mine in a brutal kiss, and the mist--whatever it was--flooded into my body.
My thoughts blurred. My limbs weakened. Everything spun.
After that, the memories fracture.
Pain.
Confusion.
Flashes of movement. Sounds. Skin.
Then nothing.
When I came to, she was lying naked beside me. My own clothes were torn. My body ached in unfamiliar ways. I didn't need to remember everything to understand what had happened.
And honestly--I didn't want to.
A sick, cold hollowness twisted in my gut as I slowly pulled away from her grasp. I staggered toward the bedside drawer, opened it, and pulled out a pen.
It wasn't sharp. It wasn't meant to be a weapon.
But it would have to do.
I wasn't thinking clearly. I was furious. Violated. Disgusted. She was going to walk away from this? She was going to live?
No. Not after what she did to me.
Not after she stole the one thing that was still mine--my purity. The only thing I could claim, without hesitation, as untouched.
But it wasn't the first time I--Thomas Ingradsil--had been raped.
Andrea Sigrid, the twisted "fiancée" who locked me up from birth until I escaped at four... Rose, from my first life, who snapped after seeing my face...
Thomas didn't care, he put no value on chastity so it didnt matter to him
but am not just Thomas Ingradsil
I am Ray Gremory.
The fusion of Thomas Ingradsil and a five-year-old devil noble.
And this time--no matter which part of me screamed the loudest--I would not let it go.
I walked over to the sleeping maid. Pen clenched in a trembling fist.
I remembered the pain, the fear, the shame she inflicted on me.
She lay there, peaceful. Satisfied.
I wasn't.
It hadn't been pleasure. It had been agony. And I wanted vengeance.
I raised my arm--and plunged the pen into her neck.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Warm blood sprayed across my face, my hands. My expression remained cold--too cold for a child.
I kept going, long past the moment she stopped breathing.
Small puncture after small puncture, I stabbed until the door burst open.
"Ray! Are you okay?" my brother's voice called out. "I heard noises--where's the maid?"
I didn't look.
I didn't dare let him see my face.
It was Sirzechs. A Satan. If he saw me, I wouldn't be able to stop what came next. No one could.
I stood up and spoke, voice flat and quiet. "Do me a favor, brother. Clean this up for me."
Without looking back, I walked forward and ascended the stairs to the second floor.
Moments later, I heard his gasp as he found her body.
I sat alone, shaking. Her blood still on my hands.
Why did I feel so shaken?
I had killed before. As Thomas. In all my past lives.
But this felt different.
She had raped me.
She deserved it.
She should have died.
And yet...
She only did it because she saw my face. Because of this curse. My curse.
If I hadn't looked at her... if I had been more careful... if I hadn't existed with this face, this smell, this voice--
She wouldn't have done it.
She wouldn't have died.
This was my fault.
All of it.
I gripped my face and clawed down, trying to tear it off--wanting to erase it, destroy it--but I was too weak. All I managed was to smear her blood deeper into my skin.
A few days later, her death was announced.
An accident. A kitchen incident.
No questions.
Father paid for the burial. The whole family attended the ceremony. Not showing up would've been disrespectful.
It rained that day.
Not many came. Just us, an old woman, a young woman, and a small girl.
We stood in silence as the casket was lowered.
Then, one by one, everyone left.
Except me.
I stayed. Watching. Thinking.
Her name had been Griselda. She had no family name--just another low-born devil. But she'd been something else too.
A succubus.
That explained the pink mist. A dreamwalker, a seductress--her powers had drugged me, overwhelmed me.
Even so... it didn't excuse what she did.
Just as I turned to leave, I heard something fall.
The little girl--she'd collapsed to her knees. She rushed to the grave and cried out, "Mama! Mama!"
Soaking wet, her small body trembled. The young woman beside her tried to help her up, but the older lady stopped her. "Let her grieve."
My umbrella shook in my hand.
I wanted to say something--anything. But no words came.
So instead, I walked over, knelt beside the girl, and held the umbrella over her.
She took it slowly. Hesitantly.
Then looked up at me, tear-streaked and soaked. "Who are you?"
I said nothing.
Just handed her the umbrella and turned, running to catch up with my family through the rain.
I didn't feel guilt.
Not really.
Not sadness, or shame.
Just...
Bad.
Just bad.
After returning home, I spent some days in my old room. Once the library was restored, I returned there.
A new maid stood by the entrance--older, more experienced. Father had chosen carefully this time.
I walked up to her, my face covered by a cloth.
"Don't let anyone into my room," I said coldly. "And don't enter without my permission."
She nodded. I made sure she understood.
Inside, a box sat near the door--the supplies I'd asked Father for.
But I wasn't ready to work.
Not yet.
I pushed shelves against the door--barricading it.
Then I lay down.
And finally, I let the world of dreams take me.