Chapter 17

[Fluvia Kredel.

January 1, 281 Abyss, 00:00.]

‘Ha, damn it.’

Doha sighed as she closed the Kredel family genealogy book.

It was fairly well-known that Fluvia had come from an orphanage affiliated with the temple.

Her story was often recounted alongside the Grand Duke of Kredel’s heroic tales.

Because of that, Doha hadn’t expected to find an exact record of when Fluvia was born.

‘Still, I checked just in case.’

As expected, it was just a temporary birthdate.

Not knowing one’s date and time of birth… It was the same as Bunny, who had come from the slums.

‘This makes fortune reading impossible.’

Doha had gone through all the trouble of sneaking into the library, where only direct descendants of the family were allowed, yet she had gained nothing. It was frustrating.

Just as she was turning her head in disappointment, she noticed the imperial family’s genealogy book on the shelf beside her.

‘The imperial family…’

There was no place in the empire beyond the reach of Kredel’s influence.

So if she ever ran away, wherever she settled, she would have to align herself with a force that could rival Kredel.

But such a force didn’t exist—except for the Pope or the Emperor.

‘The Pope would be useless.’

The temple only moved for causes that determined the rise and fall of the world. They never involved themselves in anything else.

Looking back on all the history she had studied, it was the same pattern.

The Pope would never intervene in a personal matter.

Then, could she bring the Emperor to her side?

‘Not a chance.’

The Emperor, Lyon, would never do anything to displease the Grand Duke of Kredel.

After all, it was the Grand Duke who had helped him unify the North and secure the imperial throne.

That left only one option—the next emperor.

‘But the Crown Prince, the strongest candidate, isn’t likely to help me either.’

Doha imagined what she would do if she were the Crown Prince.

If the Crown Prince learned about the existence of a girl who could leave an irreparable stain on Kredel’s honor?

‘He’d probably have me kidnapped and kept alive just enough to use me as leverage against Kredel.’

Once he knew about Bunny, he would see her as a perfect tool to keep Kredel in check and strengthen imperial authority.

‘The Crown Prince is a no-go.’

That left only one path.

Doha had to personally uncover a noble bloodline worth investing in.

‘I’ve heard plenty of rumors about how the Emperor is a womanizer, spreading his seed everywhere.’

If even one of his many illegitimate sons was competent…

Doha pulled out the imperial genealogy book. She examined the birth charts of the Crown Prince and the five other imperial princes.

“Ah….”

The results were beyond disappointing.

‘Not a single one of them has the qualities of an emperor.’

Not only that—if anything, the Crown Prince in particular should never ascend to the throne.

If someone like him ruled the empire, corruption, suffering, and chaos would follow.

Of course, as the only legitimate son, he was the most likely to become emperor.

‘Will this be okay?’

The empire had just been established, and it already seemed doomed in the next generation.

And if it was only going to collapse, that would be fortunate. But would the so-called “hero” Grand Duke of Kredel simply stand by and watch?

If the empire fell into crisis, he would surely step in and take action, ultimately elevating Kredel’s status even further.

In fact, if he found the state of the empire too deplorable, he might just overthrow everything and become the Emperor himself.

He had both the power and the justification to do so.

‘That would be the end.’

Could she possibly reform the Crown Prince or one of the imperial princes? Were any of them worth staking her future and life on?

Maybe it would be better to just run away now.

Just as that thought crossed her mind—

―Now that I think about it…

That child suddenly spoke.

―Today… is my birthday.

Each syllable he uttered was mixed with labored breaths, as if he had been running for a long time.

“Birthday?”

Doha instinctively clenched the artifact she had turned into a makeshift necklace just a few days ago.

She had secretly been hoping the child would send another message soon, and it was a relief that he contacted her precisely when she was dealing with such a headache.

“That’s great news. Happy birthday.”

So he was turning nine now.

An eight-year-old becoming a slightly less young child—how adorable.

‘I should take a break from thinking and chat for a bit.’

Running away alone just because she lacked allies was a foolish move, not even worth considering.

There had to be a force out there that could help her.

‘Since I can’t act right away, I should focus on studying powerful noble families.’

Bunny was uneducated, after all.

As she thought that—

―On this continent, there isn’t a single person who doesn’t resent this day from nine years ago…

The boy’s voice, hoarse and strained, continued.

His throat sounded even worse than when they had last exchanged messages.

―But I thought… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if at least one person remembered that I exist.

“……”

Doha couldn’t understand what the boy was saying.

His words were too mature, too pessimistic for a child.

“Why do people resent today from nine years ago?”

What kind of day was it?

Then, the boy answered.

―Because I was born… and from that moment on, countless people—so many that they couldn’t even be counted—would start losing their lives.

He spoke as if he were merely reciting a predetermined fate, an unchangeable truth of the world.

His voice was so hollow, as if he had burned himself out completely, soon to be reduced to nothing but ashes.

―The cause of war was born.

At that moment, Doha recalled a certain piece of information.

‘Ah, the Day of the Oracle.’

Nine years ago today, a rare oracle had been delivered at the Grand Temple.

A child with ominous black hair and black eyes was born, one who would bring about a tragedy as devastating as the Great War.

The Great War had been a continent-wide conflict involving every kingdom.

It was the war that laid the foundation for the Abyssus Empire, but it had also been a horrific event that claimed countless lives.

No one wanted history to repeat itself.

On that day nine years ago, many parents who had given birth to children went so far as to alter their birth records, unwilling to let their child share a birthday with the so-called “Cause of War.”

It was a famous story.

Doha—no, Bunny—was especially familiar with it.

Because the child who was branded as the “Cause of War” lived in the same slums where she had grown up.

“Are you… in the slums right now?”

Doha hesitated as she asked.

There was a pause before the boy answered, his voice slow.

―How do you know that?

At that moment, an image of a child surfaced in Doha’s mind.

She didn’t even know his name.

No one did—because no one ever called him by one.

Everyone had only ever referred to him as a monster.

Because his jet-black hair covered his entire face, the same color as the cursed beasts controlled by sorcerers.

Black was the color of beasts, sorcery, death, and darkness.

And with the oracle proclaiming that he would bring about another Great War, it was no surprise that everyone—adults and children alike—regarded him as an enemy.

They whispered behind his back, threw stones at him, and beat him.

But the boy endured it all in silence, never even screaming.

So everyone assumed he simply couldn’t speak.

‘But he actually can talk.’

“That crazy woman doesn’t even know who she is.”

“Her mother’s a lunatic, and the son’s a mute.”

“It’s karma. They’re paying for their sins.”

Doha recalled the whispers from Bunny’s memories.

She had heard that he had a mother.

If that mother was mentally unstable, then rather than being a source of comfort, she must have forced the boy to take on the role of protector instead.

That would explain why he had learned to swallow his emotions at such a young age.

‘Ha, this is just…’

Doha couldn’t help but think that this world was primitive.

It was infuriating enough that people discriminated based on hair and eye color.

But to arbitrarily brand a child as the “Cause of War” just because he was born on a certain day?

There was no such thing as a “good” or “bad” fate.

Each person was simply born carrying a different seed.

And the future was determined by how that seed was nurtured and cultivated.

Whoever had delivered that oracle—what right did they have to define the child’s life and mark him as the bringer of war?

“Listen.”

Doha sighed before speaking.

“You were just born. That’s all.”

―……

“You can’t be the cause of war.”

It was all nonsense. He was just a scapegoat for those in power.

“Oh, you must be badly hurt.”

She had already noticed it in their previous conversations, and now his throat sounded even worse.

It was because he had been holding in his screams.

Because he was getting beaten.

Because he had to listen to the ridiculous accusation that he would be the cause of a war that hadn’t even happened yet.

Because he was forced to bear the weight of all the deaths from the last Great War.

Because he was being eaten away from the inside.

Countless thoughts flooded Doha’s mind, turning it into a chaotic mess.

But first, she urgently spoke about the most pressing issue.

“I’ll tell you where you can find medicine.”

―What?

“The streets there are complicated, so I don’t know if I can explain it well. But if you can’t find it, send me a message.”

―You…

She expected him to ask, Who are you?

But instead, the boy seemed to have something even more pressing on his mind.

And with a sharper, almost defiant tone, he spat out his words.

―Didn’t you hear me? I’m the cause of war.

His voice had the sharpness of a frightened cat, raising its fur in defense.

“I heard you.”

Doha didn’t hesitate.

She spoke with firm finality.

“It’s not your fault.”

And with those words, memories of her own childhood surfaced.

Those days when she had wished she would never wake up from the endless darkness.

If she hadn’t heard those words—that she was simply a tree that bloomed in spring and that her winters were only harsher than most—she never would have endured.

‘He just turned nine.’

Doha calculated his birth year and date.

And as she examined his birth chart, specifically the pillar that represented his core self, she momentarily froze.

‘The flame of the sun…’

Fire—the source of life.

A light that illuminates the darkness from above and embraces all things with warmth from below.

A fire that melts the snow covering the frozen ground, heralding the arrival of a new beginning.

He was the spring sun—the very light Doha had been waiting for.