The man who had just labeled Alvin as a disgrace was none other than someone who was supposed to be over the moon—after all, this was the birth of his one and only son. But because Alvin was unfortunate, he was regarded as a disgrace simply because he was blind—and not even permanently blind.
All he needed was a cornea. But when it came to this family, that alone seemed to be a flaw. So he wasn't worthy of carrying their name or even being part of their family.
Alvin's supposed father was still holding him in his hands, though Alvin couldn't actually see that. Because they treated him this way, he didn't even care to wonder what kind of look they were giving him. He didn't need to see how they really felt about him—he could sense it.
And the look his father was giving him was one filled with hatred—like if it were up to him, he would crush this child as if he were nothing more than a mere roach.
"What about the other one? Is she like this one?" he asked, glancing at his wife.
"No, she's perfect. Everything that was supposed to be his—it looks like she was strong enough to consume it all for herself," Alvin's mother said, already holding another baby.
It seemed Alvin had a sister in this life, something that should have been a cause for celebration. In his previous life, even his parents couldn't have any other children after him. Having him alone had been a hard and painful journey.
"Allow me to see her," Alvin's father said.
"I never planned on stopping you, my love," she replied.
Alvin's father turned to the servant who had helped deliver both Alvin and his twin sister. "You—take this thing you call a child."
The servant had no choice but to take Alvin, who was roughly handed over as if he weren't even human—as if he were just a rag someone wanted gone yesterday.
"What should I do with him, my lord? Put him in his cradle?" the servant asked timidly.
"I don't want that tainted thing anywhere near my daughter," Alvin's mother snapped.
She and Alvin's father exchanged a look. They didn't need to say a word. From that silent exchange, it was clear they had both come to the same conclusion—and it was final.
The servant looked at Alvin's father nervously.
"Why don't you get rid of him? Put him out of his misery," he said coldly, his tone void of any emotion.
The servant froze. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Could the people she had respected and served for almost her entire life truly be this cruel—this inhuman? Sure, she knew of their legendary reputation… but this was something else entirely.
Since this new world Alvin found himself in happened to be one where magic was the norm, humanity was always on the verge of war with a demonic race called the Fiends.
The Fiends were demons from the shadows—creatures that could cross between both worlds: theirs, known as the Purgatory World, and the human realm. The Purgatory World wasn't just home to Fiends, but also to legions of armies commanded by different generals—each from a unique breed of demon.
And the family Alvin had been born into belonged to a very powerful bloodline of hunters known as the Ruse. They were so powerful that they served directly under the King and Queen themselves. They were hunters who never missed their targets—especially Alvin's parents, Rugal and Ophelia Ruse.
They were infamous across the continent as the darkest, most ruthless hunters alive. Other families both worshipped and feared them. They had a reputation for finishing every job—no matter the cost. They wouldn't even hesitate to kill their own blood if it meant upholding their name.
The servant didn't know what to do. This was new to her. She had heard the stories about the Ruse family before, but this—this was pure evil.
She looked down at Alvin and hesitantly asked, "If I get rid of him, my lord, my lady… where should I leave him?"
"Take him to the City of the Badlands," Ophelia said coldly. "Leave him there and let the lower demons feast on him. That might even buy us some time."
"And make sure you come back with his heart," Rugal added without flinching. "He might be a useless thing, but he's still a child whose veins run with our family's blood. We shall honor him by eating his heart—so that his power remains in our bloodline."
"Y–y–yes, my lord. As you wish, my lady," the servant stammered, bowing deeply before leaving.
She was still young, barely a year into her service for the Ruse family—and now they had asked this of her. As she walked away, she left behind the image of them playing happy family with their so-called perfect daughter—the one they deemed worthy over their own son.
Through all this, the servant managed to calm Alvin down. She was already taking better care of him than his own parents had. And though he was just a newborn, that didn't mean he couldn't understand what they were saying.
So my own family is planning to send me off to die? And now they want to carve out my heart and eat it, just because their filthy blood runs in my veins? Alvin thought bitterly.
The servant wrapped him in a blanket. Since it was dark outside and the streets were mostly empty, it made it easier for her to sneak away unnoticed.
She held Alvin close to her chest and ran through the Kingdom. Strangely, it was easier than she expected—Alvin was quiet now.
So they want to kill me? Alvin thought. Not that I'm complaining. I already had parents I loved more than anything—and they loved me too. So I don't care about them. I don't even care if I die… because soon, I'll be with them again.
The servant ran and ran until she reached the edge of the Kingdom, near the City of the Badlands. The place was terrifying—dark, and crawling with strange, inhuman creatures that slithered and breathed heavily in the shadows.
She stopped and hesitated for a moment.
And though Alvin had tried convincing himself that dying would be fine, now that the reality sank in…
Wait—are you really going to do it? Are you really going to leave me here with these things? Alvin panicked silently. He couldn't see them, but he could hear the way those creatures breathed.
"No… this is not right," the servant whispered, shaking her head. "I don't care if they are the most respected family in the Kingdom—I can't do this. Not to an innocent child."
Yes! Oh my god, yes! Thank you. Why don't you be the one to raise me, huh? No one would ever know, Alvin thought, turning his head toward her voice though he couldn't see her.
The servant turned around and started running in the opposite direction. She was so fast that it almost seemed as though her movement had stirred the creatures awake—because now, they were coming after her.
She ran for what felt like forever until she reached another small town. There, she slowed down and moved stealthily, making sure no one noticed her. She passed a few houses; the place looked like a quiet rural town on the outskirts of civilization.
Finally, she stopped near a house that stood a little farther from the others.
"This will be your new home, little one," the servant whispered softly, looking down at Alvin, who was now smiling faintly. "I trust and believe that they'll love and cherish you as their own."
She ran into the yard and reached the door, gently placing Alvin down on the stoop.
"I'm sorry, little one," she said, her voice breaking. "If it were up to me, I'd take you home and raise you myself. But I can't—I have to keep up the act that you're no longer with us."
She fixed his blanket one last time, then stood up, took a deep breath, and knocked.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
She knocked, then disappeared into the night.
"Who is it?" a sweet woman's voice called from inside.
But of course, there was no answer. Thinking it was probably a prank, she started to close the door—until she heard a faint baby cooing outside.
She froze, opened the door again, and looked around. Then, hearing another soft sound, she looked down—and finally saw him.
"Oh my word! Honey, come look at this!" she called out to her husband.