[Nerina P.O.V]

“Because lies won’t change anything"

Nerina exhaled slowly, watching the dim lantern light flicker against the wooden walls of the inn room.

Her hands, still trembling from the earlier confrontation —fingers tightened into fists before relaxing again.

The phantom sensation of Evelyn’s grip lingered on her collar, the desperation in that fragile voice still ringing in her ears.

"Stop living in a lie."

A cruel thing to say. Such painful words to bear.

Nerina let her head tilt back against the wall, closing her eyes.

Evelyn had indeed regressed. She's changed from the overly cautious child from back then.

She should have known better. Nerina Should have been patient.

But the moment those words left Evelyn’s mouth, something inside her cracked.

They didn’t understand. None of them did.

None of them would wipe her tears, no one would listen to her cries... her screams of torment plagued by the guilt of sin.

The world had played deaf to Nerina's agony before, and it shall do so again.

It's ears would never listen to her pleas, and it would shamelessly demand until Nerina fulfilled it's wishes.

The wretched Narrative catered to such perverse desires.

Stolen novel; please report.

Nerina would patiently wait for her chance to meet the goddess of this world.

—then, she would strangle that woman's throat with her own hands.

The world hated the villain, despised the wretched monster she had become.

But at the very least, not her. Not Nerina Morwen at her core person.

Evelyn, even in her ignorance —had tried to reach for her, shaking her by the collar like it would somehow force her to see a truth she already knew.

The world saw her as a traitor. The goddess's mistake.

But Adrian remembered of her kindness that had once been. And Callista, despite everything —showed consideration in her own way.

They cared, even when they didn’t understand.

—atleast for the Nerina Morwen they knew.

That was why it hurt so much.

.

.

.

『Fate is neither a blessing, nor is it a curse.』

『—it is the weight of one's life story, bound to the blood that carries it forward.』

Mortals love the idea of defying fate, the notion of shaping our own destinies.

The romanticism that the choices we make, the struggles we endure define us.

But there are legacies far older than our own, stories etched unto time itself—unforgiving, unrelenting.

And souls chained by blood are bound to tragedy from the moment of their inception.

The firstborn of House Morwen have always been burdened with suffering.

Caelum Morwen—the progenitor of our cursed line, the one who stood against the Demon God when no one else would...was the first to fall.

He was the blade that cut through the darkness, the flame that burned away the rot of the old world.

But in the end, it was his younger brother, Varian Morwen, who brought peace.

Not Caelum.

And it never will be...

The one who bore the weight of destruction was destined to be forgotten, while the one who rebuilt would be remembered.

It is a cycle that has played out again and again.

And now, centuries later we have finally come full circle.

I—the firstborn...shall stand as the villain, the one who must bear the hatred of the world.

And Adrian—my brother...the hero, will be the one to save it.

The irony is so poetic, it's almost laughable

—I should have seen it from the beginning.

No one ever acknowledges the weight of sacrifice. No one cares for the hands that carve the path, only for those who walk it.

That is the way history has always been written.

And yet—despite knowing all this, why did it still hurt?

How did Evelyn’s words cut so deeply?

I exhaled slowly, my fingers brushing against the cool glass of the windowpane. The moonlight cast long shadows across the empty room.

I had no right to envy Evelyn’s magic. No right to mourn what I had never possessed.

Alaric’s schemes, my bloodline’s curse—none of it changed the reality I had already accepted.

But for a fleeting moment, I had allowed myself to wonder.

If things had been different.

If I had been born with power, if I had been given the chance to wield something beautiful instead of something cursed.

—Would I have still been cast as the villain in this story?

Or was I always meant to fall?

Perhaps it didn’t matter.

What mattered was the path forward.

The world may not weep for the fallen. It may not remember those who became ashes for the flames to burn.

"To carry on living while longing for what could have been…"

A beautiful, wretched truth.

Still, there was no time to dwell on the what‐ifs that would never be. I had a mission i've yet to fulfill, a fate to carve with my own wretched hands.

Tomorrow, Nerina Morwen shall face them again.

The world had labeled her as a mistake, a twist of fate.

But she rose higher with every weight.

When the abyss tried to claim her soul, even in hell she found her role.

She walked through the world's ashes, she would endure.

No chains would bind her, no demon's spell.

For she is a light forged in Hell.

And this time, she would not let herself waver.

『Or atleast —that's what I'd wish to believe...』