Curse of Lysertis

Shun struck the boulder, and his wooden sword snapped in half. He lifted the broken weapon to his face, examining it with a blank expression.

"Hm." Aldric rested his palm on his chin, rubbing his cheek with his index finger. "You channeled mana into the sword, but you didn't control it properly. That's why it broke."

Shun lowered the shattered sword and muttered, "So, I can't."

"Can't what?"

"You asked if I could cut through the stone. There's your answer—I can't."

"Ah. Got it."

Without another word, Shun tossed the broken sword onto the ground, grabbed his bag, and walked off. The other students watched him in silence, some exchanging looks but saying nothing.

Aldric let out a short sigh, then turned back to the class.

"Well, none of you pulled it off. And judging by those faces, no one else is even going to try. Class dismissed."

Without waiting for a response, he quickly packed up his tea set and disappeared from the training grounds.

One by one, the students gathered their things and left. Kolen collected all the wooden swords, returning them to the rack. The courtyard was emptying fast.

Adam swung his bag over his shoulder and was just about to leave when someone stepped in front of him.

Adele.

She stood there, arms crossed, flanked by her usual entourage of followers.

Adam rolled his eyes, already exhausted.

"What do you want now?"

"I want you to pay for what you said." Her voice was full of pride, chin lifted as if she were delivering some grand declaration.

Adam furrowed his brows.

"The hell are you talking about? Didn't I already 'pay' when your little goons jumped me? The ones you sent after me?"

"That wasn't enough."

Adam scoffed, already done with this conversation.

"Oh, fuck off. 'Not enough,' she says."

He pushed past them easily, walking straight through the group.

"Stop!" Adele's voice rang out behind him.

"If you walk away now, I'll tell everyone you tried to assault me—that you tried to rape me right here in the academy."

Adam froze mid-step.

For a moment, the world went silent.

Then, slowly, he turned his head, staring at her. His face was unreadable—his eyes burned with something raw and untamed. Rage? Amusement? Disbelief? Or all three at once?

But one thing was clear—he was absolutely stunned by what he had just heard.

Then, in a low, sharp voice, he said, "Are you fucking serious?"

His fists clenched at his sides, but his lips twisted into a cold, humorless smile.

"You do realize no one will believe you, right? Me? Sexual harassment? With you? Have you even looked at yourself? Why the fuck would I ever want to touch you?"

Adele, basking in her sense of superiority, smirked and said, "Oh, they'll believe me. Everyone will. Everyone knows your reputation. They call you a devil's spawn. Who's to say what goes on in that twisted head of yours? Maybe something like… assault."

Adam lowered his head, feeling the sheer helplessness of the situation pressing down on him. He exhaled through his nose and asked, "What do you want? An apology?"

Adele burst into laughter—a crazed, hysterical cackle that left her gasping for air. Tears even pricked the corners of her eyes from laughing so hard.

"An apology?" she spat between giggles. "You really think I give a damn about your pathetic little 'sorry'? No, idiot. I want you to feel the same pain you put me through with your words. So here's the deal: we'll take turns kicking you in the balls. Sounds fair to me. What do you think?"

Adam's head snapped up. "What?! You're fucking insane!" he yelled.

Adele simply shrugged. "Your choice. You refuse, and I go straight to the headmaster. I wonder what Director William will think. And once everything comes out, you won't just be expelled, you freak—you'll be convicted. They'll throw you into Kramorhan, and you'll rot there until the end of your miserable days."

She turned, motioning for the girls to follow, when Adam's voice cut through the air.

"Wait."

The group stopped.

"I… I'll do it."

The words escaped through gritted teeth, each one costing him a piece of his pride.

"Excellent!" Adele clapped her hands together. The girls surrounded Adam, closing in. "Spread your legs a little wider. We wouldn't want you feeling less pain than you should, right?"

She lightly kicked at his legs, forcing them apart.

"You girls ready?" she asked with a sickeningly sweet tone. One of them gave a hesitant nod.

"As for you, bastard, I'm not even going to ask."

Adele stepped closer. Adam kept his gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to meet her eyes.

Then, without warning, she swung.

The impact was brutal.

A rush of air blasted upward from the sheer force of the kick. Adam collapsed, his hands instantly flying to his crotch as he rolled onto his back, writhing in pure, agonizing pain. A strangled scream tore from his throat, followed by an unending stream of curses.

"Move your hands. My friends haven't had their turn yet," Adele said with pure disgust.

Adam tried—tried to force his arms away—but standing up was impossible. His body refused to move.

The second girl stepped forward and stomped on his already battered groin. Then, just for good measure, she pressed her foot down harder, grinding his pain even deeper. It was like she was trying to crush him.

Adam's vision blurred. The pain was unbearable.

"Alright, Liz, you're up," Adele said, turning to the last girl.

Liz stared down at Adam, her lips pressed into a thin line. After a moment, she shook her head. "I'm not doing this."

Adele scoffed. "Suit yourself. More fun for me."

The second girl let out a wicked giggle and kicked him again.

Adam barely registered it. He wasn't even screaming anymore—just lying there, motionless, gasping for breath.

Adele's gaze drifted toward something on the ground.

"Oh? What's this?" she gasped, her voice dripping with mock surprise. "Oh no, I accidentally stepped in some dog shit. How clumsy of me."

She walked over to Adam, who was still curled up on the ground, and pressed her boot against his cheek. Slowly, deliberately, she wiped the filth off onto his face.

She knelt down slightly, her foot still pinning him, and her voice dropped to a deadly whisper.

"Now listen to me, you pathetic little piece of shit." Her tone was venomous. "If you ever insult me again—if you ever so much as talk back to me—I won't stop at just kicking your sorry ass. Do you understand me?"

Her grin twisted into something cruel.

"You should be grateful, really. This was mercy."

She pulled a small glass vial from her pocket, uncorked it, and tilted it in front of his face. The thick, shimmering liquid inside dripped onto the dirt beside him.

"Oh, what? You thought we wouldn't give you a healing potion?" she taunted. "What do you think we are, monsters?"

She let the last few drops fall before tossing the empty bottle aside.

Then, finally, she stepped off his face and turned away.

"Let's go, girls. We've wasted enough time here. Wouldn't want to be late for lunch."

The three girls left the scene, but as they walked away, Liz suddenly stopped.

She glanced back at Adam, who still lay motionless on the ground. Then she looked at the other girls, then back at him again.

For a second, hesitation flickered in her eyes.

But in the end, she turned around and kept walking.

Adam stayed there, lying in the dirt, unmoving. Only when he was sure that no one was around did he finally let himself break. His breath hitched, and hot tears welled in his eyes before spilling down his face.

He didn't make a sound. He just lay there and cried.

His thoughts were consumed by one thing—hatred.

But what could he do?

The world had been against him from the start. He hadn't been born into a noble family. He hadn't inherited some rare magic. He had lost his parents. He wasn't even good at his studies. And now, he had just experienced something no one should ever have to endure.

A vicious cycle of hatred. That was the only way to describe his life.

They all hated him. And he hated them all.

Time passed.

The sky darkened.

Rain began to fall.

Even as the cold water poured down, soaking his clothes, turning the dirt beneath him to mud, Adam still didn't move. He was freezing. He was drenched. He was shivering.

And yet, he remained where he was.

At some point, the pain in his body dulled just enough for him to stand. He pushed himself up—slowly, unsteadily. His legs felt weak, but he could walk.

Grabbing his bag, he limped toward the campus.

By the time he reached the main doors, most students had already cleared out. The hallways were nearly empty, save for a few lingering figures in the distance.

He dragged himself down the corridor, leaving behind muddy footprints and dripping water as he walked. The stench of filth clung to his face, so strong that his own sense of smell had gone numb. He couldn't even tell what anything else around him smelled like.

When he reached his dorm, he pushed the door open and glanced around.

Fubuki wasn't back yet.

Good.

Letting out a shaky breath, Adam let his bag drop to the floor and went straight to his bedside table. He yanked open the drawer, pulling out a small vial of healing potion—one that Charlotte had given him.

Her words echoed in his mind.

"If you ever get hurt—or if they beat you up—this will help."

He uncorked the vial and downed the entire thing in one go.

The relief was immediate.

The pain in his gut didn't disappear entirely, but it dulled enough to be bearable.

With the last of his strength, Adam made his way to the washroom.

He needed to get the stench off.

He lit the fire under the cauldron and let the water heat up, then splashed cold water on his face, scrubbing furiously to remove every trace of filth.

Minutes passed. The water was finally hot.

Adam stepped into the bathroom and stripped off his clothes, tossing them into the laundry basket without a second thought. He filled the tub, mixing the hot water from the cauldron with cooler water from the barrel.

Once the bath was full, he slid into the water, letting the warmth seep into his aching muscles.

The tension in his body faded. The pain eased.

And for the first time in hours—he felt something close to relief.

Maybe even… the smallest hint of comfort.