He dreamed of hell every time he closed his eyes—the hell of murders.

The scent of sewage thickened the air of the slums. The lanterns lit faintly under the night sky, clouded by fog spiraling from the twisted chimneys of the surrounding buildings.

Kazimir stood in a narrow, crooked alley. His bare feet touched the cobblestoned path. Despite the nasty puddles right under his soles, he felt nothing.

An unseen force paralyzed his body—the damn curse.

He held his breath tightly as his heart thumped rapidly in the confines of his chest. Every time he tried to breathe, his lungs pulled tight with agonizing pain.

Nothing could help him escape from the carnage he was about to witness. Nothing.

'...is it him?'

There.

Tonight’s victim finally appeared as he stumbled through the mist. A lone, drunken, middle-aged man. His boots were heavily caked in filth as his unsteady steps brought him along the alley.

"Bloody rain..." the man hiccuped, his voice slurred by his drunkenness, "Gotta get more coins... but how? No beautiful lady... to entertain me... no warm bed..."

The man laughed to himself, followed by sorrowful sobbing. Then, the sound of his laughter rang in the alley again.

Kazimir's eyes caught a figure emerging from the shadows. Dread twisted his gut, for he knew who the mysterious figure was.

"At your back! Watch out!"

Kazimir abruptly opened his mouth, desperate to warn the drunk man of the approaching doom, but not even the slightest sound of his voice rang out.

As always, he was beyond helpless.

Kazimir's widened eyes watched as the figure cloaked in black approached the drunken man. The hood was pulled too low, not allowing him to get even the briefest glimpse of the murderer.

The cloaked figure finally stopped once he reached the middle-aged man. He said nothing as he silently stared at the pitiful drunkard.

"You lost, my friend?" the drunk man squinted his eyes, finally realizing the cloaked figure's presence, "Aye... can you spare me... hicc! A coin or two? Arghhh!"

The figure moved without any warning. He abruptly seized the middle-aged man by the collar, catching the drunkard off guard.

"W-wait! Where ya takin' me?!"

The drunkard shouted when the figure easily dragged him into a narrow gap between buildings. He tried to resist, but the slick cobbles and his heavily drunken state made it harder to fight.

The paralyzed Kazimir was transported to where the next scene would unfold. He witnessed the moment the cloaked figure threw the drunkard to the ground of an abandoned tannery.

The scent of death lingered heavily in the air, perfumed by the old blood and rotted hides.

What Kazimir had expected unfolded.

The cloaked man flashed a steel dagger before the frightened drunkard. A clean and cruel cut slashed across the man's throat, abruptly killing him mid-scream.

Red blood sprayed from the wound, splashing on the filthy floor and pooling beneath the victim’s twisted head. The blood smeared Kazimir's face, leaving a metallic tang on his tongue even though he wasn't truly there—a phantom.

|Do you not fancy what you see? Doesn't your heart scream for more?|

As Kazimir motionlessly watched the cloaked figure mutilating the lifeless drunkard's limbs, the familiar, yet sinister, voice rang low right beside him. Whenever it emerged, it whispered the same question meant to torment him.

"I do not! I abhor this violence!"

The middle-aged man did nothing to deserve this bloodbath! But then again, most of the carnage Kazimir was forced to witness was not justified.

Most of the victims were not criminals. They were ordinary people living their lives, only to have their passages cut short by early, cruel deaths.

|Hahaha! You're lying, my friend!|

The maniacal, mocking laughter shattered Kazimir's thoughts. He tried to look around, but the unseen force was still keeping him frozen.

|Keep lying to yourself. I will come to you when the time calls for our fated encounter, for you owe me your soul.|

"I'm not! Never! I won't let you... ARGH!"

Kazimir's breath caught. A sudden bout of pain surged from the depths of his heart, flaring its tendrils to his entire being.

|Until our fated encounter.|

The hellish dream swallowed him whole once again.

**********

Most citizens of the Braxten Empire were awake even before the dawn broke. They were eagerly involved in the final preparations for the upcoming Foundation Week, which would begin the following day.

The current monarch, Emperor Braxten the 24th, would open a part of the imperial palace to everyone. The merriness of the celebration would be heard from a huge distance away.

Not only did the nobles and commoners from different territories flock to Bramora, the capital, but foreign delegations also paid a visit.

The celebration would take place for the entire week. Temple rituals, the processions of banners, public feasts, and the exhibition of inventions were among the important showcases.

But the hustle and bustle did not reach a particular townhouse in the suburbs of the capital. The servants silently did their work as tasked, their footsteps quiet in the crack of dawn.

"...urgh."

A disgruntled groan echoed faintly inside a bedroom, coming from a young man. He sat on the bed, his body leaning forward as he pinched the space between his temples, beaded with sweat.

A long white ribbon embroidered with gold thread fell from his face to his lap. A gold tassel was left forgotten on one side of the pillow.

'That wretched nightmare again.'

Despite having seen the familiar sight of blood pooling around his feet countless times, as well as the gruesome images of people dying, he could never get used to it.

And...

The sinister voice whose words faded once he woke up.

The man, Kazimir Nikolai van Arkel, flicked his fingers. In an instant, both lamps on the bedside tables glowed. The mana stones in the lamps channeled their energies to chase some of the darkness away.

The white light illuminated Kazimir's face, where lines of exhaustion and pain were etched. Some of his ebony fringes clung to his sweaty forehead while his violet irises dulled behind his half-opened eyelids.

"Argh!"

Clutching the front of his white tunic, Kazimir gnashed his teeth, his jaw rigid. His other hand tightly gripped the blanket, the veins popping under his skin.

Kazimir battled the familiar yet unpleasant, prickly ache flaring from his heart. The pain never failed to come after every night of those terrible dreams haunting him.

"...haa... haa..."

With a groggy jerk of his head, Kazimir pushed the soft blanket away and dragged himself out of bed. After donning his slippers, he walked slowly toward the huge windows, hidden by dark and thick curtains.

Kazimir pulled the curtain slightly, just enough for the golden dawn to spill through. The early sunlight illuminated the front of his figure, stretching shadows on the marble floor behind.

'It's still early.'

Without looking at the clock, Kazimir guessed the time had yet to hit seven in the morning. The townhouse was generally quiet, but he knew the servants had begun their day.

Knock! Knock!

The soft knocks lured Kazimir's attention from the lawn outside. Looking behind his shoulder, he saw a middle-aged man. He was dressed elegantly in a black suit, and stepped inside the room with a three-tier trolley.

"Your Grace, good morning. You look weary. Were you unable to sleep again last night?"

The man was Wilhelm, the head butler of the townhouse. His voice was soft in the early morning. He took quiet, yet steady, steps toward Kazimir.

"The same old problem, Wilhelm."

Kazimir exhaled a sigh. He rubbed his face, feeling the threatening, sharp pain at the back of his mind. He walked away from the window, heading to a chair nearby.

As Kazimir sat facing a round table, Wilhelm lit the chandelier hanging from the ceiling with a small magical device. The mana stones shone brightly, chasing the remaining darkness away.

Then, Wilhelm pulled the curtains back, revealing the beautiful dawn sky outside. The spring flowers were in full bloom.

Unfortunately, Kazimir was too distracted by the ache in his head and heart to admire the view.

"Your Grace, I was grateful when you were able to sleep well for the past few days," Wilhelm said softly while pouring hot plain water into a cup, "You haven't gotten such good rest in decades, have you?"

Kazimir didn't immediately reply to Wilhelm despite understanding the concern behind the head butler's words. He took a few sips of the water, his gaze blank.

"You're right, Wilhelm. I did get a couple of good sleeps in the past few days," Kazimir exhaled a sigh. He put the cup down, "I guess it's what people mean by sleeping like a newborn."

Wilhelm's white brows furrowed as he listened to Kazimir. He refrained from sighing as he tried to keep his composure.

Every servant of the Arkel Duchy, whether in the main estate or the capital's townhouse, knew that the Duke often suffered from a lack of sleep. Yet, only a very limited few were aware of its details.

The young Duke had often dreamed of witnessing cruel murders ever since he was a young boy. A few of the old servants still remembered how the young child had cried into the night.

Not even the High Priest knew the true cause, nor was he able to eradicate it. The only thing that helped Kazimir was the charms he periodically received from the temple.

The charms, often in the form of a white ribbon with gold embroidery, partially stopped Kazimir from receiving the dreams and lessened the pain.

When his condition was more dire, the charm’s effectiveness was reduced. But it was better than nothing.

Wilhelm clasped his hands together as he cautiously spoke, "If I may ask you, Your Grace, has something changed? Did the charm you received recently cease working already?"

Kazimir blinked slowly. He tilted his chin up, looking away from the cup. His violet eyes scanned the concerned look on Wilhelm's aging face.

A few days ago, Kazimir had visited the Grand Temple in Bramora right after arriving from the Duchy of Arkel in the west. He had needed new charms to help him get through the entirety of Foundation Week.

Instead of the new charms, he had obtained another thing from a complete stranger. The person had not even been a member of the temple.

A young, unfamiliar noble lady.

She had exuded a surge of divine power that was a thousand-fold purer and more massive than the ones he had experienced before, not even from the High Priest.

Who was she?