* * *

I later learned that there were more children than just me and my older brother. Polygamy by both sexes was allowed in this new world, and so it was only a matter of one’s ability and circumstances to support such a lifestyle.

At the time, my father had four wives. With my entrance into this world, he now had five progenies to his name. Of the five, my brother and I belonged to my lovely mother. My brother Achille was born four years ahead of me.

“Xana, you’re so cute. I will always be around to protect you.”

Unlike me, who had our mother’s golden mane and our father’s scarlet eyes, Achille took after mother from head to toe. In temperament, he was a bit of a doormat, but he was lovable all the same—much like a puppy. Somehow he’d withstood the grime of the horrid environment he’d been born into and retained his innocence with a smile always at the ready.

For as long as I can remember, Achille constantly watched over me with that goofy grin of his, spewing childish nonsense all the while. I mean, mentally, I was over a decade older than him, so seeing him doing the “big brother” thing was beyond funny. But it’s also true that he was crucial to my adjusting and overall sanity in this sorry excuse for a home.

This was the residence of the Agrece clan, an old family with a distinct odor. To put it simply, the Agreces were a criminal family who roamed among the denizens of the underworld. Composed of thieves, con artists, drug dealers, and even contract killers when the situation called for it, they were a shady lot who eked out a living however they could. Of course, “eking out” a living for this family was far beyond what any commoner could imagine.

So what are we, the Mafia? The whole thing was just so ridiculous to me. What’s even more frustrating is the fact that every child born into this stupid family is required to carry on the family trade. The Agreces had survived for generations this way, thus we children were always told that we too must be educated and trained in the ways of our family.

Now, to a former South Korean with a fairly average background, having that sort of burden thrust upon me was definitely unwelcomed. And yeah, I know I said I was quick to adapt, but this was different. What we’re “taught” at this place day in and day out is how to handle weaponry, kill with our bare hands, mix drugs and poison, utilize the art of stealth and disguise, and so on. Unluckily for me, such skills were well beyond my scope. Had these lessons merely been about memorizing a bunch of facts, I would have done just fine. As it turned out, I simply sucked when it came to criminal antics.

“This one doesn’t seem to possess any significant talent,” my poor excuse for a father grumbled one day. I was eight at the time, which was roughly the same number of times I had seen his lousy mug in person up until then. In other words, our relationship as father and daughter was as distant as could be.

The fact is, Lante Agrece is a father who shows little interest toward his children in general. Perhaps that shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise, seeing as by then he had accumulated 10 wives and 16 children. For him to devote time and love equally to all of his family members was probably all but impossible.

“If she was good at even one thing, we could try to hone that, but...”

I didn’t appreciate how his stare seemed to be appraising me like an object rather than as his own daughter.

“But I don’t even wanna work for this stinking family!” is what I almost blurted out in frustration. Luckily, I managed to remember what Mother and Achille had reminded me to do over the last few days: keep my mouth shut no matter what.

Mother was at my side—her frustration almost palpable. Father finally took one last look at me, then delivered his verdict.

“No matter. We can try using her in a different way.”

With my method of contribution to their criminal enterprise decided, father decreed that I should adhere to a more unique curriculum.

So starting that day, I began to train in the art of... seduction.

Seriously, what the hell is up with this place?! Since I take after my beautiful mother, of course I look gorgeous, but who’s ever heard of a normal, sane family deciding to teach an eight-year-old such nonsense? A steaming pile of crap is what it was, and it was all thanks to my father.

“A different way,” my ass. I assumed this education was to prepare me for gleaning secret information, or to create another path for me to become an assassin. Still, I belonged to a family that did not hesitate to train an eight-year-old how to seduce someone. Just despicable!

“Do I really have to learn such a thing, Mother? What purpose will it serve? Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I’m only eight.”

“Xana, please don’t say such things. You are an Agrece, which means you must study diligently so you may bring glory to our family one day.”

Her fingers dug into my shoulders as she said this. Thinking back now, there was definitely a tinge of desperation in her voice that day. I also didn’t have the heart to say no to her sad entreaty anyway. Plus, with our family being so hierarchical, there was no one who would dare to question father’s decision.

It was a filthy and shameful role I was assigned to, but I did as I was told and began my training in the end. But soon the problem was that my skills in the seduction department also proved to be lackluster. That was probably because my heart wasn’t wholly into it.

Much later, while I was enduring this new form of training, Achille was suddenly “disposed” of. He was only 15 when it happened.

* * *

“Achille...!”

Mother’s screams rang and echoed in my ears eerily.

A boy who had laughed and played with the other members of his family only a few days earlier was suddenly a corpse. It was beyond comprehension. The only explanation lay with a woman referred to as “the bailiff.” She said Achille had been judged unfit to be an Agrece and was disposed of according to the clan rules. It was the first time in our generation that such a rule had been invoked.

It felt as if I had been doused with a bucket of ice water. I shook and trembled uncontrollably.

“This one doesn’t seem to possess any significant talent.”

I suddenly recalled the day three years prior when my father scanned me as if he was trying to gauge the value of a piece of merchandise. Then it dawned on me how petrified mother must have been at the time. I knew this family was a mess, but I had never imagined it was so thoroughly effed up until that moment.

At the sight of Achille’s lifeless body, my delicate mother simply fainted. She was laid up sick in bed for days and days after that. Needless to say, I was shocked to my core as well. I knew that things had to change. If Achille could be disposed of so easily, there was no doubt I could very well be next.

That sudden realization made goosebumps pop up along the back of my neck. It was yet another reminder that my father Lante Agrece only favored those with useful skills. After that, I began to take my so-called education much more seriously. It was also imperative that I began to assess my predicament more realistically.

“Xana, darling, how are your studies coming along?”

“Very well, mother. I’m working hard.”

“That’s wonderful. You must do your best every day so that you can grow up to become a worthy Agrece.”

“Yes, mother.”

I no longer argued with what she told me to do.

As for my education, although my concentration was the art of seduction, that didn’t mean I could ignore the other disciplines. On top of basic physical training, there were various subjects I had to learn such as weaponry, pharmacology, intel gathering, eloquence, and so on.

Although we were a household that lacked any sense of kinship, there was still a monthly gathering called “the grand feast.” However, father only invited the top three performing children from the previous month to attend the event and spend time with him. As one might guess, even when Achille was alive, neither he nor I ever made the cut.

Following his death, two more children were disposed of. One of them must have sensed the impending danger and tried to escape, but he was eventually caught and suffered a truly gruesome ending. I could not help constantly questioning the logic of this world, but once I realized that the answer lay with none other than Lante Agrece, I got my act together.

A year after Achille’s death, I was invited to my first grand feast at the age of 12. It was then and there that it dawned on me that the new world I had been reincarnated into was just a novel.