Anyway, that's my story. Now let us return to the present.

It has been 5 years since the day my village was raided by goblins and I was saved by wandering adventurers.

They dropped me off at an orphanage in Erandel, where I've been staying ever since.

If the past five years have taught me anything, it's that humans are irrevocably weird.

I can't seem to understand their way of thinking or the facial expressions they make.

And for some reason, everyone in the orphanage keeps their distance from me, I've somehow earned the nickname 'demon' once again.

"Balin, it's lunchtime," called out one of the caretakers.

'Sigh, lunchtime,'

I quite hate lunchtime, or any time we have to gather for that matter.

Due to my apparently 'weird' interests, people have made it a tradition to prank me whenever they can. That's to say, they never did it in front of my face, something about me killing them in their sleep... anyway, I quite dislike gatherings.

After I got my lunch I headed over to my usual eating spot, a corner of the dining hall where I can practice in peace.

'Practice what?' you may be asking. Well, ever since the day I met Skelly, I've been trying to repeat the same thing, without much luck.

Based on all the books I could get my hands on, apparently I'm what you call a necromancer, a type of Mage. Their apparently rare, however, that's as far as the information I've collected goes.

There are no 'how to' guides, or places an orphan like me can go to confirm my deductions. So I've been doing the only viable thing at my disposal, experimenting.

"B-B-Balin, T-T-Tristan is looking for you," stuttered someone from behind me.

'Gods, I do hate interlopers,'

The person in front of me was a snort-faced boy, with glasses clearly too big for his face. Even though I was sitting on the floor, I felt as if I were looking down on him.

'Truly a pathetic specimen,' I thought as I stared up at him.

"P-P-Please, I-I-I was forced to," he squeaked.

'Ahh, that kind of reminds me of the small animals my father used to hunt back home, good times,' I thought with a smile on my face.

"What does she want?" I asked him, still reminiscing the good old times when I could see blood and dead animals on a daily basis.

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"S-She wants to talk to y-you in private," the boy said, before running away.

'Sigh, truly a pathetic specimen,' as I thought this I moved him a few spaces up on my 'To Torture' List.

It's merely a list of all the people I'm going to torture once I get the chance- this is all purely hypothetical of course... I think-

After I was done with my lunch I disposed of the remains in one of the dustbins, before walking out of the dining hall into a hallway and beginning my search.

The orphanage was quite spacious, and although it was old, it had a certain regality to it.

The place had actual windows, with actual wooden doors, and white- I mean slightly- white walls. Though I have to admit, my years on the outskirts of civilization may have made my deductions a little biased.

"B-Balin, there you are," said a girl as she slid in front of me. Her eyes stared downward as she played with her fingers.

'If I recall correctly, this is the girl who constantly stalks me. She's number 2 on my 'To Torture' list. Based on what I've read on human expressions, it seems this girl might have a crush on me, truly a troublesome business.

"Hey there, how are you?" I ask her, imagining what she would look like if I threw her into a pit of hungry goblins -quite amusing if you ask me-.

"I-I'm fine. L-Look, there's something I have to tell you. I-It's been bothering me for a while," she continued, her voice almost a whisper.

'At least speak up if you're going to waste my time. Say your confessions quickly so we can get on with the conversation,'

Honestly, humans really are weird. According to a book I read, there's apparently an etiquette to human conversation. Even if we both know what the other will say, we still have to give them time to speak. Truly an inefficient tradition.

"I-I," she stuttered, her breathing becoming more erratic as if she were excited about something.

Behind her, a few girls were hiding behind one of the white pillars that extended to the ceiling.

'I see, is this some sort of prank?' I wondered as I tried to fain ignorance- after all, this was included in the etiquette-.

"I want you to teach me how to read," she blurted out. The girls behind her made groaning sounds, they were clearly disappointed by the turn of events.

'How troublesome, she doesn't even have the courage to confess,'

"Ahh, right. I'm one of the only kids who know how to read, aren't I," I replied, trying to keep the most human-like expression I could.

It's not that I'm not human, it's just that my brain doesn't understand why some things are the way they are. Perhaps everyone is like this, and I'm just weak-willed.

"Y-You're really amazing, I can't believe you taught yourself how to read," she interrupted, right when I was in deep thought too.

"I'll teach you. Meet me at the city library during free time," I replied to her, perhaps I might get the chance to experiment with some of the torture techniques I read about.

Sadly they weren't many, the only torture techniques described were those in fiction books. However, my imagination filled in the gaps, so I'm fairly certain I can manage.

"B-Balin, you sure space out a lot don't you?" interrupted the girl once again.

'This bitch,'

"T-The others are all afraid of you, b-but I'm not. I know what it feels like to be different," she said, as she fiddled with her hands while swaying her hips.

"D-Do you now. Thanks, I guess," I replied.

This is what I call, human response number 230. It can be used in almost any situation, with some tweaking of course.

"Anyway, I must be going. There are a few chores I have to finish off," I said before walking off. As I left, the girls came out of hiding and surrounded Tristan.

'Pfft, humans,'

I dashed through the hallways leading towards the dorms, ignoring all the fearful looks that the other kids were giving me.

Soon, my dorm room came into view. It was a cubicle the size of one of the huts back in my old village. 'The orphanage truly is generous,'

As I open my door, a pleasant smell fills my nostrils.

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