A voice pierced through the silence. Cold. Sharp. Icy.
"Hey. You. Peasant. Wake up already. Or are you dead?"
It echoed inside my skull, pulling me from a deep, aching void. My body felt like it had been struck by lightning and left to smolder. Every muscle burned. My skin buzzed. My head pounded.
Then I opened my eyes.
And everything changed.
The sky above was soft blue, brushed with streaks of golden light. The trees overhead shimmered, their leaves alive with color — green, rich and bright, swaying gently in the wind. The grass beneath me glistened with dew, each drop catching the sunlight like glass.
I froze.
The world… wasn't gray.
It was alive.
This—this was color?
My breath caught in my throat. I didn't dare blink.
"You're finally awake," the voice said again, closer now. "Took you long enough."
I turned my head.
She stood just a few steps away, tall and elegant, holding a chain that connected to the cold metal collar around my neck. Her long white hair moved like silk in the morning air, and her eyes — deep red, glowing like coals — stared into me without emotion.
She didn't speak right away. Just looked at me, measuring.
Then:
"Before you blacked out… you called me beautiful. Didn't you?"
I swallowed hard. My voice trembled.
"…Yes. You are."
I didn't say it to flatter her. I meant it. She was the first thing I saw — truly saw — under the white moon. She had looked otherworldly. Radiant.
She gave a faint, satisfied nod, like she'd just confirmed something.
"So. You can see color."
I looked around again. The trees. The sky. The glistening water nearby.
"…This is what color looks like?"
She took a step closer, eyes locked on mine.
"Describe my clothes."
I hesitated. "I don't know how. I don't know the names. It's all just… light. Beauty."
Her brow twitched slightly — not anger, but disappointment.
"How many colors can you see?"
I blinked. "I… I'm not sure what you mean."
Her tone dropped. Slower now. Icy.
"Listen carefully, peasant."
She said it like it was a curse.
"Nobles like me are born with limited color-sight. Most can see only skin tones, blood… maybe hair. Two or three colors, if lucky. Royals might see five."
She lifted her hand, examined it, then glanced at her shimmering dress.
"But legends — those born under rare omens — they see seven. The full spectrum. They are one in a generation."
She stared at me now, unblinking.
"So. How many can you see?"
I looked around again. Everything was bursting with life. The bark on trees — brown and rough. The leaves — layered in shades of green. The soil, the sky, the water, the shimmer of the light. I couldn't count them. I could only feel the difference.
"…I think… I see all of them."
For a moment, she didn't react.
Then she laughed.
Low. Cold. Wicked.
It wasn't joy.
It was the laugh of someone who had waited a long, long time.
"I knew it."
I stared at her. "What… what does that mean?"
She stepped closer, crouched down so her eyes were level with mine.
"I've been looking for someone like you. Someone who sees what even nobles can't. The all-color eye."
She leaned in, her voice a whisper now, thick with something dangerous.
"You're perfect. My slave."
My breath caught.
"S-Slave?"
She smiled — not kindly.
It was slow. Cruel. Confident.
"Oh, don't worry. I won't chain you forever. Not unless I have to."
I dropped to my knees.
"Please… my lady, I don't understand. I come from a good family—humble, yes, but honest. I've never seen color before today. I don't want trouble."
She tilted her head. Her smile faded.
"You still think this is a blessing?"
I looked up, confused.
"You still don't understand." Her voice turned venomous. "Once you see color… your fate is sealed. You've already stepped into a world where no one will accept you."
I shook my head. "No. My village… they're kind. They'll understand. I'll tell them the truth."
She looked down at me, her smile fading into something colder.
"You poor fool."
She stepped back, letting go of the chain.
"They'll skin you alive."
I froze.
"The people you trust? They'll fear you. Envy you. Hate you. No one tolerates a peasant who sees what even nobles can't. Unless you're born high, you're born disposable."
My voice cracked. "They're not like that…"
She shrugged.
"Go. See for yourself. Go back to your precious village. Taste the 'kindness' of the world."
She turned away.
"I'll be waiting."
I stood slowly, chest tight, hands shaking.
I didn't look back.
I just ran — through the forest, across the light-drenched fields.
She's lying. She has to be. I told myself again and again.
But the color clung to everything.
And the weight of her words chased me like a shadow.
The forest was behind me. Morning sun rose slowly over the village, washing everything in a warm gold.
But to me… it was more than just light.
Everything — the sky, the dirt, the trees — was alive with color. Too vivid. Too sharp. Too real.
My breath trembled as I stepped onto familiar ground. The forge's smoke curled into the air like nothing had changed.
But everything had.
I rushed down the path toward our small home. The sound of my own heartbeat filled my ears.
He'll know what to do. Father will understand.
There he was, outside the forge, sitting in his usual spot — one leg bent, polishing a blade. My mother sat nearby, stitching cloth with her careful hands. A calm morning. Ordinary.
"Father!" I gasped as I ran up. "Something's wrong with me!"
He didn't look up right away. Just kept working the blade, slow and steady.
"You've been gone all night," he muttered. "And now you come screaming like a fool."
"Please," I said, tears brimming. "Just listen. Something happened in the forest. I… I met a noble lady during the demon hunt."
That got his attention. His eyes narrowed as he finally looked up.
"A noble?" he said. "And what would a worthless brat like you be doing anywhere near the hunt?"
I shook my head. "It was an accident. There was lightning — I was struck, or nearly. I passed out. When I woke up, she was there. And then…"
I hesitated.
His gaze sharpened. "Speak."
"She said she wanted to make me her slave."
The silence was immediate. Heavy.
My mother stopped sewing. My father stared.
"…What?" he asked.
"She said she'd been looking for someone like me. She called me perfect. Said I was useful for some kind of plan."
His jaw tightened. "And what kind of plan needs you? You can't fight. You've never shown a drop of magic. What ability could someone like you possibly have?"
I stepped back, heart hammering. "I didn't know either. But after the lightning, when I opened my eyes…"
I looked around — even now, the sky was bluer than I'd ever imagined.
"…I could see color."
His brow twitched. "What?"
"I can see color," I repeated. "Everything. The trees, the water, her hair, her dress. She said it's called the all color eye. That nobles only see two or three. Royals maybe five. But me—she said I might see all seven."
The whetstone dropped from his hands, clattering to the ground.
He stood.
Slowly.
His face wasn't angry yet. It was pale. Hollow. Like he was staring at a nightmare.
"You're lying," he said. "Tell me you're lying."
"I swear I'm not—" I said, stepping back. "That's why I came home. I was scared. I thought you'd protect me."
His expression twisted.
"Protect you?" he hissed. "You don't understand what you've just said. You think the villagers will embrace a freak who sees color? You think this is some gift?"
He pointed the blade at the dirt.
"This curse will destroy our family. If they find out, they'll hang me for hiding a demon child. Burn the house down."
My mother stood quickly. "My lord, stop—"
He turned on her.
"Then explain it!" he snapped. "Only nobles are born with that sight. Only them! So how can my son see color?! Unless…"
He turned back to me.
"…Unless you're not mine."
My blood ran cold.
"Did you lie with someone?" he growled at my mother. "Is that it? Is that how this happened?"
"No!" she cried, stepping in front of me. "I've only ever loved you! He's your son!"
"Then how do you explain this?!" he bellowed. "You know what happens to cursed ones! If he really can see color — we're finished."
I shook my head, pleading. "Please… Father. I didn't ask for this. I don't even want it. Just help me hide it—"
He raised the sword.
"I can't let you live."
My heart stopped. "W-What…?"
"If killing you is the only way to protect this family, then so be it."
He took a step forward, blade raised.
I dropped to my knees.
"Please! I'll leave! I'll never return. Just… don't kill me. Please!"
My mother fell to the ground, grabbing his leg. "Irori, run!"
For a second, everything was still.
Then I ran.
I sprinted down the path, barefoot, stumbling.
Behind me, I heard his voice rise into the morning air:
"That boy is cursed!" he roared. "My wife birthed a demon child who sees color! Catch him! Before he dooms us all!"
Doors opened. Heads turned.
And then — the stones came.
Thrown fruit. Shouted curses. Eyes full of hatred.
They chased me. People I'd grown up with. People who once ruffled my hair, or shared bread in winter. They looked at me like I was filth.
I dove into a pig stable, bleeding, bruised, heart shattered.
Everything she said was true.
The world didn't fear monsters.
It feared color.
To be continue....