Chapter 2

Since when did a child learn what he shouldn’t do? He shouldn't make eye contact with others, and he shouldn't show his eyes. If his long hair moved even slightly or if his eyes were exposed, those around him would recoil, their faces twisting in disdain. Numerous attendants were assigned to care for him—feeding, dressing, and bathing him—but none of them dared to look at his face. They would quickly turn away, retreating with barely concealed expressions of revulsion. Those responsible for his education were even worse. With cold expressions, they would spew out difficult words that the child couldn’t grasp, as if they were explaining something to an invisible being, before disappearing without a trace. Everyone avoided looking at his face. So, he couldn’t smile, and he couldn’t speak to anyone. He couldn’t open his arms to ask for a hug, nor could he leave his room. And above all, he couldn’t cry. If he did any of these things, the attendants would flinch, their faces filled with fear. Not a single person returned his pure kindness. From the moment he began to understand language, he realized that the words they constantly whispered behind his back were meant for him. The curse of the dragon. Born with eyes unlike anyone else's, he was a cursed being. The person who made this clear to him was the queen, his mother. The first thing she did when she came to see him was force him to stand before a mirror. “Look closely. See how terrible and wicked you are. Look at your eyes!” The queen grabbed his hair tightly and shook him. The child’s body trembled weakly under her grip. She pulled his face closer to the mirror, her voice cold as she whispered in his small ear. “So, you must be punished.” He saw himself and his mother’s reflection in the mirror. His eyes—so different from others. And the bloodshot veins in his mother’s eyes, burning with madness. But soon, his vision went dark. Thud! The queen slammed his head against the mirror with force. “It’s all your fault. You were born a devil.” The image of the queen’s twisted smile imprinted itself in his mind. Her hand roughly yanked his head away from the shattered mirror. As if to prove he was human, blood flowed from the child’s forehead, staining the pale skin. Since his birth, no one had ever treated him kindly. However, there was one person who spoke to him with warmth, even if out of pity. She was his maid, one of the many caretakers for noble children. She was called to tend to him because there was no one else to care for a child who couldn’t speak and remained expressionless. Yet, the child had no trouble reading books or writing, despite never speaking. It was clear he wasn’t stupid, but his emotionless face, combined with his eyes, made him appear unnerving to others. So, the palace maids reluctantly took care of him, but no one wanted the task. In the palace, it was a nightmare to be assigned to his care. Eventually, it wasn’t a palace maid but a nanny from outside who became his maid. The first thing she saw when she entered the palace was the violence the queen inflicted on him. What surprised her even more was the reaction of those around them, as though it was completely normal. “Look at his eyes. That child is a devil. Even though the queen may be excessive, it's necessary,” they said. The palace maids all agreed, nodding. The nanny, taken aback, looked into the child’s eyes and, surprised, thought that perhaps those words were true. After all, everyone around her accepted it without protest, so it must not be wrong. Even the teacher who taught him and the king’s trusted aides, who occasionally visited, never said a word after seeing the wounds on his body. Still, despite the consensus, an unsettling feeling arose. No matter how much he was born a devil, the child was small and fragile. His thin arms and legs were like sticks, his body smaller than those of his peers, covered in countless scars and fresh wounds. Every time she changed his clothes, the nanny couldn’t hide her furrowed brow at the sight of his body. One day, after the queen had beaten him again, the nanny spoke gently to him. The child never changed his expression or screamed, even when he was hit and bleeding. But whenever the queen left, he would hide under the bed. The nanny knelt to look beneath the bed where no one else dared to. The child lay there, hunched like a cat. Was he sleeping? “Your Highness, we need to treat your wounds; please come out.” Perhaps it was the gentle tone that no one else had ever used with him, but the child responded slowly. His shoulders moved slightly, and then he lifted his head a little. In that moment, the nanny’s body trembled. The child’s snake-like yellow eyes, peering from beneath the dark bed, glowed like a beast’s. She understood why people feared and despised him. Cold sweat ran down her back, but she continued to coax him with a trembling voice. “If we leave you like this, you could get a fever and be sick all night…” Finally, she averted her gaze and finished her sentence. “You need to come out so I can treat you.” Her voice quivered, and the smile faded from her face, but after a moment, the child emerged from beneath the bed. Fortunately, his eyes were hidden behind his long bangs. The nanny tried to calm her trembling heart as she carefully tended to his wounds. As always, the child sat motionless like a doll. As she noticed the injuries covering his body, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of compassion, though she avoided looking into his eyes. “Oh, you’re so well-behaved and kind. You must have been in pain, but you endured it so well.” After a while, while gathering her supplies, the nanny felt the child’s gaze. When she turned to face him, she saw that he was looking at her. “Your Highness, do you have something to say to me?” “……” The nanny waited, but the child said nothing, only staring at her. A few days later, when the queen was absent, the nanny called him from beneath the bed again. The same routine was repeated several times, with the nanny speaking kindly to him each time she treated him. And then, on the fifth treatment, she noticed something different. The child waited for her, no longer hiding under the bed. His head was fully raised, and it seemed as if he was starting to open his heart. The nanny felt relieved and smiled. “You didn’t hide under the bed today. I can treat you faster now, Your Highness. Then your wounds will heal faster, too, right?” The child’s gaze, hidden beneath his hair, followed her. She turned, feeling the sharpness of his stare. Then, she heard a sound. “…Huh?” Startled, she turned and saw the child purse his lips. “Am… I… good?” Hearing his voice for the first time, she was momentarily stunned before realizing that she hadn’t praised him that day. “Of course, you’re good. Well done, Your Highness.” The nanny smiled, but her eyes grew cold. It could have been her imagination, but a sense of unease twisted inside her. The next day, she learned the reason for her anxiety. Even though the queen didn’t visit, the child had new wounds. The child sat in the treatment chair, blood flowing from his arm. His doll-like expression remained unchanged as he extended his injured arm to the nanny. Her anxiety turned to fear. The realization that the child was beginning to open up to her overwhelmed her, turning into reluctance. “Oh! Your Highness, where did you get these wounds?” No matter how many times she asked, the child remained silent. Unable to hide her stern expression, she spoke in an angry tone. “I cannot praise you for intentionally causing wounds.” But the child didn’t retract his arm. The nanny roughly wrapped a bandage around the wound and left the room, pressing her trembling heart with her hand. The ominous feeling lingered, and a chill ran down her spine as she felt someone’s gaze. The next day, the child was covered in blood again. His clothes were soaked, and both his arms were drenched in blood. “Oh! What on earth is this, Your Highness?!” The stunned nanny rushed over and inspected the child’s body, but aside from the bloodstains, there were no visible wounds. Even after washing him with water and carefully checking, there were no traces of injury. Yet, the strong smell of blood lingered, as if something remained on the child’s expressionless face. “Your Highness, where did you get the bloodstains…?” Before the nanny could finish, she heard screams from the maidservants in the distance. She hurried outside to see what had happened. “What’s going on?” “Oh my, look at that.” Following the pointing fingers, she saw the red blood once more—the same red blood that had stained the prince’s body. In a corner of the garden, overgrown with weeds due to neglect, the ground was soaked in blood. But it wasn’t just blood. Torn flesh and organs seemed to writhe atop it. “It-it’s a cat. It sometimes appears here, and we used to feed it… How could this happen?” The panic and horror in the maidservants’ voices made the nanny’s heart tremble further. Only one word ran through her mind: Devil. It had to be a devil! How else could a six-year-old child commit such cruelty? From that point on, the nanny acted like the other servants. She never spoke to the child, never smiled at him, and never looked at his face. Even when more dead animals were found and the child was covered in blood, she pretended not to see.