Lilith groaned, her hand holding the knife trembling as a wave of nausea assaulted her brain. Letting go of the hazardous object, she supported herself by putting a hand on the wall.

  “Lilith?” At this moment, one of her colleagues entered the kitchen. “Are you okay?” The woman dressed as a server asked, her tone gentle with worry.

  “I am,” Lilith muttered, her voice trembling. “Is there a new order?” She asked, looking at the woman, her eyes bright red.

  “Yeah,” the woman stared at her for a while, before blurting out a list of dishes.

  “Be careful,” she said, promptly rushing out of the kitchen.

  Letting out a sigh, Lilith went back to work.

  It was yet another day—her episodes becoming more and more frequent.

  It first happened when she was at the tender age of seven. Her mother died in her sleep, and she waited for an entire day by her side. She thought her mother was just tired, and so she waited… waited until a man knocked on the door.

  She ignored the knock—but couldn't do so when the man barged in. They brought her to a room with an older woman, a nurse. There, she learned that her mother wasn't tired, she was dead.

  And then it hit her.

  A wave of nausea, her brain feeling like it was about to explode. Her eyes throbbed painfully, and her blood boiled inside her veins. Despite the older woman's worried calls, she couldn't hear any of it.

  Instead, all she could hear was the voice her heart was shouting.

  ‘Kill.’

  However, she was just a kid in the end. After fainting for who knew how long, she woke up the next day and her mother was crudely buried. The old nurse took her to an orphanage, where she spent the rest of her morbid childhood.

  Did the director even find out about it? She couldn't say. All she knew was that no one messed with her in the orphanage—not after she twisted another child into a human pretzel and hung him on a tree.

  The miraculous thing was, the poor guy wasn't bruised at all—although he did have a nosebleed.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Overall, her childhood was bland. But her entrance to adulthood was anything but peaceful.

  The moment she turned eighteen, her second episode began.

  Her friends were celebrating her birthday, gathered around her while singing a song when it happened. She was holding a knife, about to cut into the cake when her heart started throbbing painfully.

  She didn't know what happened next. All she remembered was hearing voices inside her head, and then shutting her eyes. The next thing she saw was the mangled corpses of her friends scattered around her.

  Their limbs had been severed, their skin peeled, and their faces twisted and hacked. Not to mention, the sea of blood that she was sitting on, staining her hands and clothes.

  Obviously, she was thrown into prison the very same day. Next, she was thrown into kitchen duty, where she spent a year.

  Everytime she felt nauseous, or her blood started to boil, she'd let go of everything and try to calm herself. It usually worked, but lately…

  ‘What’s wrong with me?’ She groaned, covering her face with her hands. Her “job” at the kitchen was over, and she was back at her cell. She didn't know it yet, but she was about to be released.

  ‘Am I crazy?’

  She knew she was. She had to be. Otherwise, how else could she explain her psychotic episodes?

  ‘But why me?’

  With a long, weary sigh, she slipped into the bed and tried to sleep.

  But she didn't even get a wink of sleep when she was thrown off of the bed, and her body was lifted. Startled, she tried to yell and open her eyes, when both were proven to be impossible.

  ‘What’s happening?! Who—’

  “Urgh—” A man groaned, and she fell to the ground.

  Finally, she could open her eyes. The first thing she saw was a cloaked man, and the second thing she saw was the sack on the ground.

  It was conveniently big enough to put a man inside, much less her.

  “Bastard!” Roaring, she tried to run, but her limbs suddenly went stiff and she collapsed on the ground.

  “Don't try to run, bi—argh?! What the fuck?!” The man growled behind her, falling to his knees. Then, she felt her limbs regaining their strength.

  “What's this, magic?!” She crawled back, watching in terror as the man clutched his head in pain. Suddenly, her fear disappeared like a puff of smoke.

  She was scared? Of a man like that?

  A sneer covered her heart, her eyes rolling around the room. There wasn't a knife nearby, how unfortunate.

  Her nails would have to do.

  A grin spread across her face, drool oozing out between her teeth. Her skin was turning flushed, and her eyes were starting to glow red. However, when her saliva dripped on the back of her hand, she snapped out of her daze.

  ‘What was that?’ She gasped, when the man in front of her stood up. The man stretched his hand, black and white dots gathering around his arm.

  “Stupid bitch, just come with me and get this over with,” he scowled.

  She didn't need to think twice on what to do. Rushing toward the man, she tackled him to the ground and clawed at his face. Her fingers quickly found the man's eyes, but as she was about to gouge them out, her body went limp.

  She lost consciousness.

  The man pushed her off of his body, standing up with wobbly feet. Huffing, he looked at the woman with a baffled gaze.

  “How the hell is a woman so strong?” He tried prying her off earlier, but he couldn't even shove her away. Thankfully, he didn't forget to bring spell runes, otherwise…

  “What a vicious bitch,” he rubbed his eyes, blinking them a few times to make sure they were safe.

  Clicking his tongue, he grabbed Lilith's jaw and spat on her face.

  The authorities would never lie. Lilith was “released” from prison.

  ~~~~~~

  Osmheal rubbed his chin as he sat on his chair, a folder in his hand. Inside were the information about the slave he bought.

  At the same time, the slave in question was tied up on a cross in front of him.

  “Lilith Evergrande?” Osmheal rubbed his chin. “My, you were quite a disobedient girl, weren't you?”

  Lilith raised her head, her eyes staring right into Osmheal’s face.

  Osmheal had wheat colored skin, his sapphire eyes staring back at Lilith. His hair was dark like black coffee, and his face was sharp like a sculpture.

  “Tell me, Lilith,” Osmheal stood up, walking toward the woman and touching her cheek. “What did it feel like when you ripped your previous owners apart?”

  Osmheal smiled, gently rubbing Lilith's pointy chin.

  This wasn't her first time being bought—she had been a slave for three years now. Likewise, Osmheal wasn't her first buyer…

  But would he be the last?

  Lilith's eyes flashed with crimson light.

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