On a gloomy night, in his room, Boris's organs were strewn across the floor, while his limbs and head were neatly arranged on the study table. On top of him, a man in a clown mask was performing something disturbingly close to surgery with an eerie precision.

  Boris's severed body parts bled no red–only a greenish, faintly glowing liquid oozed from the wounds. He hovered at the edge of death, yet couldn't cross over, as if trapped in a state between life and oblivion. Like a man overcome with drowsiness but kept awake by relentless insomnia.

  Time slowed for Boris as he felt the clown carving into his body, one piece at a time.

  'When did things start to go wrong?'

  A question appeared in his mind–one that had lingered for ages, though he couldn't remember when it first appeared.

  'Was there even something wrong?'

  He finally answered–though his head was severed, and his mouth couldn't move. Still, the answer came.

  'I did what I could. I provided for Ivanna when everyone else in the household ignored her. I never neglected her–even when she was a half-awakened child. I protected her from everyone else. She's graduated from the noble school, made friends, and is slowly securing her pce among the young, awakened Maurya nobility. I did all of that–without Ana...'

  Boris began his rant.

  "I'm a kind brother. Even Ivanna says that. So, was there really anything wrong?"

  Boris tried to convince himself.

  "When did things start to go wrong?"

  The question returned, as if unsatisfied with his answer.

  "Like I said, there's nothing wrong!'

  Boris rejected the question, his denial sharp and desperate.

  "When did things start to go wrong?"

  The question came again. This time, accompanied by a scene.

  'This is...'

  The scene unfolded from a third-person perspective, showing his life from the very beginning—his birth, his mother.

  'Mother...'

  Boris had completely forgotten her. Everything in the Smirnova house had buried her memory. He couldn't even recall her face.

  The scene sped up, fshing through years like a film on fast-forward. Still, Boris absorbed every moment with perfect crity.

  'Am I dreaming?'

  Then, he saw Ana.

  'Ana...'

  Seeing her again after so many years, emotions rose within him.

  The vision continued: his life spent struggling to survive in the Smirnova Household with Ana, the moment his father took Ana away, their reunion, the war that followed, and their time together after Ivanna's birth.

  It wasn't a perfect life, but for Boris, the time spent together as a family made all the suffering worthwhile. He was happiest when they were together, feeling as though his world revolved entirely around them.

  ***

  The scene shifted.

  Ana disappeared from the scene, leaving only him and Ivanna.

  'If only I had returned sooner...'

  Negative emotions began to surge: regret, despair, loneliness.

  It was a devastating period of his life, yet in reality, he felt no pain, no sadness, no sorrow. In fact, he felt nothing at all. His bloodline ability shielded him from all emotions.

  He kept it active all the time, terrified of feeling anything.

  ***

  The scene shifted.

  Years passed and Boris continued living, outwardly expressive, but numb on the inside.

  Using his bloodline ability, he kept himself steady, focused on providing a better life for Ivanna.

  But there was a problem he had never realized:

  Everything has its limits–even his bloodline ability.

  ***

  The scene shifted.

  'No... don't show this to me.'

  It's a familiar memory for Boris. He had done it with his own hand.

  It had been a stressful night for him–an expedition gone wrong. He was badly wounded, barely escaping, but managed to make it back to the main mansion and into his room.

  He could have gone to the Medical Guild for proper treatment, but he chose not to. Health-reted guilds, such as the Medical and Psychology Guilds, were run by the Human Party. For the Primal Party, seeking care from them was considered a disgrace.

  A knock came at the door, followed by a familiar voice.

  "Brother Boris, I heard you were back. Are you okay?"

  It was Ivanna, visiting his room.

  Boris didn’t answer. Fatigue weighed on him, and all he wanted was to lie down on the bed.

  But something deeper had begun to stir in his mind–an uncontrolble craving. A craving to feel something, anything. He had lived without emotion for years, and now, as if his mind were demanding repayment, it began to crave every bit of it. Alongside it came a resurgence of his Primal Instinct–an uncontrolble lust that intensified the emotional flood.

  In that moment, Boris realized his bloodline ability had been deactivated–without him even noticing.

  "What?"

  For an Awakened Maurya noble, activating or deactivating a bloodline ability was supposed to be effortless–no harder than holding a twig. But Boris had forgotten one thing: even a twig becomes heavy if you've been holding it up for years.

  ***

  The sound of the swinging door echoed.

  "Brother Boris?"

  Ivanna stepped into the room, unaware of Boris's condition.

  As she approached the bed, Boris suddenly grabbed her, pulling her down as he climbed on top of her.

  "B-Brother Boris, what are you doing?" she asked, fear fshing across her eyes.

  Something about Boris felt wrong–unnervingly wrong.

  Then, in a soft yet chilling tone, Boris spoke.

  "You look just like your mother..."

  ***

  The scene continued.

  'Don't show it to me!'

  What came next was something he knew too well. There was no room left for denial.

  'No! Please, I get it–make it stop!'

  But it was only the beginning. His treatment of Ivanna had worsened over time. As if the st time hadn't been enough, each encounter left him wanting more.

  'Please, I'm begging you. Don't show it to me. Please!'

  The more he watched, the clearer it became: he was doing to Ivanna exactly what his father had done to Ana.

  'Stop it. Stop it!'

  ***

  The scene shifted.

  "When did things start to go wrong?"

  The question returned.

  '...It was that night'

  A momentary pse.

  'If only I had reactivated my bloodline ability that night...'

  He'd lost focus for just a few seconds–but that was all it took to begin his downfall.

  'I'm sorry, Ivanna.'

  He could have stopped it all. He had what it took to do it. All he had to do was activate his bloodline ability, and it would have ended.

  But he didn't.

  'I'm sorry, Ana'

  He now understood why he couldn't bring himself to die–he was afraid.

  Afraid to face Ana in the afterlife after what he'd done to Ivanna.

  Afraid to go without begging Ivanna for forgiveness.

  ***

  The scene shifted.

  This time, it was the fight with the clown–how he ended up like this.

  'If only I had just run away...'

  He was one of the best close-range fighters in the Maurya Empire, yet he had been defeated–humiliated–by a human who didn't even have a scratch. His pride was hurt.

  He had tried to fight again... and failed.

  The clown had hidden weapons–and was, in fact, far more skilled in long-range combat.

  ***

  The scene stopped.

  Then, it rewound–all the way back to his birth.

  Boris watched it all unfold again from the beginning. This time, the question did not return. Only the quiet, endless weight of regret.

  'If only...'

  ***

  On that gloomy night, inside Boris's room, Cal was opening up Boris's body methodically, as if searching for something.

  An eerie smile stretched beneath his clown mask.

  He was enjoying himself. Uncontrolbly.

  This wasn't part of the pn.

  Staying this long in the mansion was a risk–a waste of time and dangerously impractical.

  But he couldn't stop.

  The moment he saw Boris's transformation, something began to stir within him.

  Cal was a descendant of the legendary creature Zmey Gorynych, the Serpent Dragon of Wisdom and Deceit.

  Along with its bloodline ability, he had inherited one of its primal instincts–an uncontrolble hunger for 'truth'.

  OnlyCat