I remain still.
Not out of courage—because my body refuses to move. My hands tremble against the ropes tying me to the post; my fingers slide helplessly along them. The ground is cold beneath my feet, and my breathing is too fast, scraping painfully in my throat.
The man in front of me keeps his gun pointed at my forehead, perfectly steady.
No tremor.
No hesitation.
Not even a blink.
That's what scares me the most:
he doesn't want to kill me.
He will kill me.
Without emotion.
Without hatred.
As if it were simply normal.
Something twists inside my stomach.
A knot.
A refusal.
An urge to scream.
But no sound comes out.
Only thoughts slamming against each other.
Then I think about the fact that—
I don't have any last words.
Only regrets.
Questions crashing around inside my skull.
I feel like I've lived a useless life.
A life behind a mask, smiling so I wouldn't cry.
Grandpa…
Grandma…
Just thinking their names makes my chest tighten.
A hot pressure rises behind my eyes.
I swallow down a sob, jaw clenching hard enough to hurt.
Why did you protect me… if I'm a demon?
Why did you lie?
Why did you rock me to sleep with stories of beauty and love if I was meant to end like this—
a gun to my forehead,
shallow breath,
legs collapsing beneath me?
I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment.
I see their home, their smiles, their warm rough hands.
Everything they gave to make me feel normal.
Everything built on a lie.
But I can't hate you.
Never.
You gave me everything.
Everything good in my life… came from you.
So if I could… just give back even a little of what you gave me…
I'd be happy.
Even for a second.
I lift my head.
My lashes tremble, still wet.
My breath is too loud, rising and falling in shaky bursts.
I look at the man—the one holding my life between his fingers.
His face doesn't change.
My throat tightens painfully.
And I don't know why; I can't control it.
A sentence shoots up from my chest like lightning.
I smile.
A twisted, strained smile that shows more fear than joy.
I cry.
I speak.
— "Am I the most beautiful woman in the world?"
Silence.
My breath shakes, my chin quivers.
My voice still hangs in the air—fragile, broken.
His gaze flickers.
A glimmer.
Brief.
Doubt? Sadness? Humanity?
But his words are blades.
— "You look like a demon. You're hideously ugly."
Air gets stuck in my throat.
A heartbeat stops.
Something snaps.
Clean.
In my mind.
In my heart.
In my soul.
My hands clench violently; my nails dig into my palms.
My breathing halts, then returns in harsh gasps.
My legs lock, my shoulders tighten so hard it hurts.
Everything collapses.
I scream.
Without restraint.
Without dignity.
With everything I have left.
My voice comes out warped, deeper, vibrating with raw rage.
My neck strains, tendons stretching under my skin, hair sticking to my face with sweat.
— "DEMON! DEMON! DEMON! EVERYONE HAS THAT WORD IN THEIR MOUTH!"
My arms pull against the ropes, making the knots creak violently.
My forearms tremble with restrained force.
"BUT WHO TRULY KNOWS WHAT A DEMON EVEN IS?!"
My chest heaves; my voice slams through the air.
My nostrils flare, breath tearing through them like a wild animal.
"I WAS BORN HERE! I GREW UP HERE! YES, I LOOK DIFFERENT, BUT DOES THAT MAKE ME A THREAT?!"
I lean forward as far as the ropes allow, a vein bulging along my neck.
"MAYBE IT DOES, MAYBE IT DOESN'T! I DON'T CARE!"
My voice cracks, then rises again—stronger, harder.
"YOU WANT A TRUTH? FINE! I AM A DEMON!"
My neck stiffens; my pupils dilate—an eerie light flickers in my eyes.
"BUT I AM NOT HERE TO DESTROY OR TO HATE! I AM A DEMON WHO WILL SAVE LIVES!"
I breathe hard, my ribs aching.
I pull again, my wrists burning.
"I WILL PROVE THAT DEMONS AND HUMANS DON'T HAVE TO BE ENEMIES!"
My words hammer through the silence.
My torso swells with each shout.
"MY RACE DOES NOT DEFINE MY HEART! MY APPEARANCE DOES NOT DEFINE MY ACTIONS!"
Tears fall freely now.
Not sadness.
Rage.
"I AM FREE TO MAKE MY OWN CHOICES!"
My head snaps upward.
I breathe deeply—like the scream itself freed something inside me.
And then something breaks.
No.
Something opens.
My mind reels.
I feel… light.
Torn loose.
Pulled away.
Then everything goes black.
⸻
When my eyes open, I'm trapped.
A cage.
Suspended in the air.
But not in a void.
Inside a colossal hall, closed and suffocating.
Enormous pillars support high arches of dark, vein-laced stone.
The walls pulse faintly, like the castle itself is breathing.
Below me… a procession.
Red, incandescent beings with membranous wings.
Their footsteps echo against the polished black stone floor.
Their stares burn.
Their silence screams.
Demons.
Maybe my real family.
They march in perfect formation, disciplined like an army.
Their horns, claws, wings—all different, yet united in purpose.
Heat radiates upward from the floor's glowing runes, warming my skin even inside the cage.
I float above a world I've never known—
yet one that does not reject me.
So… this is what it means to be a demon?
Fine.
I accept it.
I won't deny what I am.
I won't hide anymore.
— "Release me. I am one of yours."
A tremor.
A vibration.
The chain snaps.
I fall.
The stone beneath my knees is warm.
I rise instantly.
Around me, the demons scream.
Not human screams—deep, layered roars that shake the walls.
They bow.
They part, forming a path.
A path of fire.
The runes along the floor ignite one after another, tracing a glowing red road to the throne.
At the end of it:
a throne.
Black.
Massive.
Wrapped in dark flames rising straight upward.
I walk.
My steps echo.
The air grows hotter.
I am no longer afraid.
I sit.
The demons roar louder, a single cry that makes the entire hall tremble.
A light pierces me.
It forces a scream out of me.
It burns inside my chest.
Pure pain.
Sacred fire.
And I feel this power…
etch itself into my soul.
Carving its mark like a vow.
I open my eyes.
A glowing tablet floats before me.
⸻
Awakened Word: DEMON
Rank: Dormant
Active Ability 1: Demonic Transformation
Passive Ability 1: The more you resemble a demon, the stronger you become.
⸻
I smile.
Not out of joy.
Out of conviction.
My destiny has begun.
I will change this world.