My new favorite words:

When Darius announced we were leaving Germany for England, a dozen questions surfaced in my mind.

What exactly should I do in England? I’m not confident in my English language skills, how will I communicate? 

And what will happen to all the plans we’ve made in Germany…? 

But Darius only smiled and shook his head at all of that. 

— You don’t have to think of anything, Ring. Only do as I say.

(... That’s right. I’m always wrong, so it's better that way.)

Everything was as the devil clad in white willed. Once again, I let myself dance in the palm of his hand, controlled by the strings he pulled. 

For one reason alone — to get stronger. 

…

It was decided our activities in England would be long term, and so Vogel secretly established a base in London that had no windows.

When I returned from a mission, stepping into that room where the sun didn't shine, Darius sat by a lit lamp with a red book in hand.

(It looks thick… what kind of book is that?) 

Darius: Welcome back, Ring. This is “Burke’s Peerage” — a registry of British nobility, detailing their lineages, ranks, and titles. 

As though he read my mind, Darius answered.

Darius: The British nobility are proud of their bloodlines. 

Darius: Knowing their family names and showing respect for their history is the first step to gaining their trust. 

Ring: I see… should I read the book and study it too? 

Darius: There’s something else I expect you to do for me, so no need to work that little head of yours. Ever heard of “right person, right place”? 

He closed the book, placed it on the table, and crossed his legs in an elegant manner before looking up at me. 

Darius: So, how did today’s “errand” go? 

Darius often called the missions he assigned to me “errands”.

And maybe it was because he saw me as “family”, he’d use the same tone one would with a child. 

Or maybe he thought of me as immature, hence treating me like a child—. 

(It's definitely both.) 

Ring: There were no problems. As you ordered, I killed the target and brought back the documents. 

I handed over the large envelope stained with the target’s blood. 

Darius ran his fingers over the wax seal, confirming it was still intact, then deftly opened it with a knife.

Inside the envelope were drafts of newspaper articles written by the target, a journalist. 

Darius: Hmm… the research he did on us is quite impressive. He worked for The London Times, didn't he? He’s rather capable. 

Darius: Oh well. He’s dead now, though. 

Darius murmured with a satisfied smile. 

As it turned out, the journalist had German roots, and dug deep into the truth about the Cursed and our origins. He wrote an article and was about to have it published. 

Not even a full day had passed from the moment Nica caught wind of his actions to when I slit his throat.

Darius: Had this article gone public, our plans in England would've been foiled. That was a close call. 

He shredded the draft with his knife and chucked them into a glass of water where they dissolved. 

Darius: Did that journalist have anyone working with him? 

Ring: No, I can’t tell whether it was because he wanted to take full credit, or he knew how dangerous the information he had was… but he acted alone. 

Ring: He had this on him too. You should look through it.

I gave Darius the notebook I found on the journalist. 

Darius: These are detailed schedules and notes from his work. We should discard it properly. Well done, Ring. 

Just then, a small piece of paper slipped out from the notebook.

Written on it in crooked letters were the words “To Papa:”, next to what looked like a drawing of a face. 

(... The journalist’s child must’ve drawn this.)

Unlike me, the man I killed had a warm home and someone who’d wait for him to return— 

That thought lodged in my chest like a stubborn thorn, causing a dull ache that was slowly spreading. 

Darius: — Ring. 

Darius’ tone was calm when he called my name.

His voice always seemed to carry an inexplicable spell that pulled me out of my thoughts and back to reality. 

Darius: There will be much more bloodshed in the road ahead of us. 

Darius: — But sacrifices are inevitable if we want to create a world where the Cursed can live in bliss. 

Darius: You understand that, don't you, Ring?

Ring: … Yeah. I understand. 

(It was Darius’ order, so killing him was the right thing to do.)

(It's what Nica would want too…)

“I did nothing wrong.”

I repeated that sentence to myself over and over again like a broken record, forcing my attention away from the aching in my heart 

…

After finishing my report to Darius, I left the secret base and wandered aimlessly through the streets of London.

The clattering of carriages on cobblestone, the people's laughter, the aroma of food wafting from the surrounding taverns and bakeries— London was lively and full of warmth. 

But for someone like me, who grew up without contact with other people or engaging in meaningless small talk at street corners, that kind of world felt too dazzling and distant. 

Baker Boy: Oi, young mister! Fancy a loaf? Fresh out the oven! 

Ring: …! 

I heard a baker boy call out to me when I passed by. 

I froze, not knowing how to respond… and then I bolted.

…

(Was I being rude just now? Maybe I should’ve at least said a word…) 

(... But I do that in Germany too. I only listen to Dari’s orders, avoiding unnecessary interactions with anyone else. I can’t just change overnight.) 

Back in Germany, there were many times when I’d thought I wanted to try talking to someone other than Dari and Nica. 

But every time without fail, I’d remember my unusual upbringing that set me apart from other people — including my older brother, who easily bonded with anyone he met. 

The weight of my inferiority and lack of self-confidence held my words down. 

The only other people I ever interacted with were those I tortured for information. 

Pathetic. 

With that, I found yet another reason to despise myself. 

It was at that moment, I happened to see something fall from the eaves of a house across the street. 

(Is that… a baby bird?)

It had fallen from its nest and hit the ground hard, lying there motionless. Perhaps dead. 

Above it was the parent bird completely ignoring the fallen chick, and feeding another one still safe in the nest. 

(... So that chick was abandoned.)

I once heard from somewhere that when there's a shortage of food, parent birds would sometimes abandon weak or starving chicks and leave them for dead. 

Staring at the dead bird, I couldn't help but see myself in its small, frail body. 

I, too, had once wasted away on the brink of death. 

A strong urge to do something for it rose within me.

(I should bury it somewhere. … In the earth, where it can return to nature and beautiful flowers will bloom.) 

But before I could approach—, someone beat me to it. 

It was a young woman. She looked close to my age, or maybe a little younger. 

She took out a clean handkerchief and, without hesitation, gently wrapped it around the lifeless chick.

???: … Alright. Let’s move you somewhere else.

She carefully lifted the tiny bundle with both hands and started walking.

(Where is she going…?) 

Curious, I decided to follow her. 

…

After walking for a short while, we arrived at a park where flowers bloomed in abundance. 

The woman crouched down under a large tree, then dug a hole in the soil without seeming to care that she was dirtying her hands. 

She slowly laid the chick in the small hole she dug and gently covered it with soil. 

(She was thinking the same thing I was…)

In that instant, the world that always felt so distant suddenly seemed to become within my reach. 

As though a comforting light had slipped through the cracks of a peaceful world I didn't belong in, and lit up the darkness that surrounded me. 

(... I want to talk to her.) 

For the first time in my life, I felt the urge to approach someone, even if it was only to exchange a few simple pleasantries. 

The unfamiliar feeling confused me, yet I couldn't resist, and so I took a step forward and opened my mouth.

Ring: Umm…

— But at that exact instant, the sound of bells resounded, a sign that another hour of day had passed. 

???: … Oh dear! Is it that late already?

The woman looked startled as she stood quickly and hurried off. 

(... If only I’d spoken to her a little sooner.) 

Left with a bitter feeling of regret, I too walked away. 

(London is filled with people. I might never see her again.) 

(But if fate were to play a trick and I cross paths with her once more—)

(I’m going to be brave and talk to her.)

Eventually — I did meet that woman again.

But it was nothing like the wholesome reunion I wished for. 

…

It was the first time Crown and Vogel met—.

And standing next to Crown, as their Fairytale Keeper, was her. 

(Dari said Crown could become our enemy one day.)

(I thought I’d finally have a friend, and now it turns out she’s our enemy…)

(... If that's how it is, then so be it.) 

Because I’d already made the decision to obey Dari’s orders to become stronger,—

Ring: Ring Schwartz… I’ll be in your care for the next few months. If you even think about harming us, I won’t show you any mercy. 

— I introduced myself with words that clearly reflected hostility, as though to erase the lingering hesitation in my chest.