In the kingdom of Eryndor, innate abilities weren't just gifts; they were destiny's script.  "Legitimate" abilities, blessed by the gods and recognized by the Holy Knights, were a golden ticket to nobility, wealth, and respect – the hallmarks of the chosen few, the kingdom's protectors. But for every sunlit path, there was a shadowed counterpart: forbidden abilities.  These powers, deemed unholy and dangerous, were shunned, their possessors ostracized, viewed as harbingers of chaos.  Think of them as society's pariahs, perpetually on the outside looking in.

Nineteen-year-old Ji-Hoon was one such outcast. Born with the forbidden ability "Avarice," he'd grown up in the grim shadows of an orphanage, a life devoid of opportunity and acceptance. Despite his best efforts to blend in, he couldn't escape the sneering glances and whispered accusations. The Holy Knights, those revered heroes, treated him with particular cruelty, as if his very existence was an affront to their sacred order.

One morning, Ji-Hoon found himself in the Palace of Lights' gardens, the king's opulent residence and the Holy Knights' headquarters.  Sunlight kissed the gleaming white marble towers, a scene usually breathtaking, but Ji-Hoon had no time for sightseeing. Armed with rusty shears, he meticulously trimmed hedges, a menial task reserved for outcasts like him. His hands, a roadmap of cuts and calluses, were a testament to his silent endurance.  He’d learned to grit his teeth and bear it.

As he tackled a thorny rosebush, a familiar voice broke the quiet. It was Min-Jae, an orphanage friend who also worked at the palace.  Min-Jae, a skinny, shy boy with perpetually messy black hair and a mischievous grin, lacked an innate ability, rendering him invisible to the Knights' scrutinizing gazes.

"Ji-Hoon!" Min-Jae whispered, approaching cautiously. "Did you see the decorations in the Great Hall? Looks like they're prepping for a Holy Knights ceremony."

Ji-Hoon nodded, continuing his work. "Yeah, I heard.  Another chance for them to preen and boast about their 'legitimate' abilities."

Min-Jae grimaced. "Remember back at the orphanage?  Dreaming of becoming heroes like them?"

Ji-Hoon paused, shears suspended mid-air.  A wistful smile touched his lips. "Yeah, I do.  We imagined having legendary powers, saving the kingdom..."

"But reality's a bit different, huh?" Min-Jae interrupted, his smile fading. "I don't get why they treat you so badly. You work harder than anyone here."

Ji-Hoon lowered his gaze, his grip tightening on the shears. "It's because of 'Avarice.' To them, I'm a threat, an abomination.  No matter what I do, I'll never be good enough."

Min-Jae glanced around, then leaned closer. "Yesterday, I saw Knight-Commander Yulius shove you down the stairs. Why? You didn't do anything to deserve it."

Ji-Hoon clenched his jaw, a flicker of anger in his dark eyes. "Because he can. Because to them, I'm nothing more than a stray dog. They feel compelled to remind me of my place."

Min-Jae sighed, his expression a blend of sadness and frustration. "It's not fair. You deserve better, Ji-Hoon."

Ji-Hoon remained silent, resuming his work with almost robotic precision. But in his mind, a single thought echoed: *One day, this will change. One day, they'll see what 'Avarice' can truly do.*

The garden's tranquility shattered with the heavy thud of boots and the clang of armor.  A group of Holy Knights entered the courtyard, their shining armor reflecting the sun like a thousand tiny mirrors, their white capes billowing behind them.  Several flustered servants scurried around them, gathering their equipment – swords, shields, and sealed scrolls.

Ji-Hoon quickly looked down, hoping to become invisible. He knew a Knight's gaze brought nothing good. But then, footsteps approached. A chill snaked down his spine.

"You, there!" a commanding voice boomed.

Ji-Hoon froze.  He recognized the voice instantly: Knight-Commander Yulius, a towering figure known for his cruelty towards outcasts. Yulius stopped before him, his polished boots crushing the leaves Ji-Hoon had just trimmed.

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"Kneel, wretch," Yulius commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

Ji-Hoon hesitated, his hands gripping the shears. He felt Min-Jae's worried gaze, but knew defying a Holy Knight was suicidal. Slowly, he set down the shears, knelt, and bowed his head in submission.

"Good," Yulius sneered. "A dog knows its place."

Before Ji-Hoon could react, a stinging slap sent his head reeling. The burning pain was followed by a sickening wetness – Yulius had spat on him. Ji-Hoon's fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms, but he didn't lift his head.

"Look at him, this refuse," another Knight mocked, laughing. "He hasn't even the courage to defend himself."

"Of course not," a third chimed in. "Bearers of forbidden abilities are fit only to crawl in the mud."

Their laughter echoed, drawing the attention of other servants. Ji-Hoon felt their pitying, fearful gazes. Min-Jae, hidden behind a bush, clenched his fists in helpless fury.

"Stay there until we're gone," Yulius ordered, turning away. "And don't forget your place, wretch."

The Knights departed, their mocking laughter fading. Ji-Hoon remained kneeling, his eyes fixed on the ground. Shame and rage simmered within him, yet his face remained impassive.  He knew any reaction would only worsen things.

Min-Jae cautiously approached once they were gone.  "Ji-Hoon…" he whispered, his voice trembling. "I… I'm sorry."

Ji-Hoon slowly rose, wiping the spittle from his face with his sleeve. "It's nothing," he said calmly, though his eyes betrayed a chilling resolve.

Min-Jae started to protest, but fell silent, noticing the change in Ji-Hoon.  Something dark and dangerous had ignited within him.

"One day," Ji-Hoon muttered, his fists still clenched. "One day, they'll understand what it means to suffer."

As the day ended, painting the Eryndor sky in fiery hues, Ji-Hoon stood before the palace steward, a portly man with an indifferent gaze.  The steward handed him a small pouch containing his daily wage: a few copper coins, barely enough to survive. Ji-Hoon took it silently, slipping it into his worn pocket.

He left the Palace of Lights through a back door, avoiding the gazes of guards and nobles.  The city streets were still bustling, but Ji-Hoon ignored the closing shops and children playing in the alleys. His mind was elsewhere, tormented by the day's events.

He eventually reached the Saint-Céleste Orphanage, a modest, dilapidated building on the edge of the slums. Despite its run-down appearance, it was a haven, filled with laughter and memories. Ji-Hoon pushed open the creaking wooden door, met by a cheerful cacophony.

"Ji-Hoon's here!" a small boy shouted, running towards him.

"Did you bring food?" a bright-eyed girl asked.

Ji-Hoon offered a smile, his first of the day, producing a bag of provisions he'd purchased. There was fresh bread, fruit, and some dried meat – rare treats for the orphanage children.

"Share it fairly," he said, handing the bag to the eldest child.

While the children swarmed the communal table, Ji-Hoon was approached by Sister Marianne, a kind woman of mature years. She had been a mother figure to him since his arrival, and he held her in deep respect.

"Ji-Hoon, my boy, how are you?" she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm fine, Sister Marianne," he replied with a shrug. "Just another day."

She looked at him intently, as if seeing past his words. "And the Holy Knights? Did they trouble you again?"

Ji-Hoon looked away, feigning interest in the children squabbling over bread. "Nothing serious," he said neutrally. "Just the usual taunts and humiliations."

Sister Marianne sighed, her gaze filled with sorrow. "Ji-Hoon my boy, you are strong. Stronger than you know. But Ji-Hoon you don't have to face this alone. If you ever need to talk, I'm here for you."

Ji-Hoon nodded, grateful but distant. He couldn't explain what he truly felt. How could he tell her that his anger was growing daily, that he dreamt of revenge while fearing what "Avarice" might make him do?

"Thank you, Sister Marianne," he said simply. "I'm fine, really."

She smiled gently, then turned to the children. "Come along, little ones, it's time for dinner. Ji-Hoon my boy, will you join us?"

"Of course," he replied, sitting at the table.

Surrounded by the children, Ji-Hoon allowed himself to be enveloped by the orphanage's warmth. For a moment, he forgot the Knights, the humiliations, and the simmering anger. But deep down, a thought lingered:  *How much longer can I endure this?*