Early morning.
The door trembled beneath loud, violent bangs.
DHAAM! DHAAM! DHAAM!
"Zairen! Open the damn door!"
A gruff voice growled from behind the wood.
Still half-asleep, Zairen's eyes cracked open.
His voice was dry.
"Who the fuck dares disturb my sleep…"
He dragged himself to the door and swung it open.
Standing there was the estate's steward—
An older, foul-mouthed man with sunken eyes
and a permanent sneer etched into his skull.
"You little bastard," the steward hissed.
"You want me to beat you for being late again?!"
Zairen stared back.
His gaze cold…
Too cold.
The steward faltered for just a moment—
something in those eyes wasn't right.
But pride wouldn't let him step back.
"The fuck you looking at, freak? Move!"
He shoved Zairen aside and barged into the room,
slamming a tray of food on the table.
"Eat that garbage, and don't you dare show your cursed face in the dining hall today."
Zairen moved silently to the table,
glancing at the meal—
Moldy bread.
Greyish soup full of rotting vegetables.
Meat—greasy and sour,
so wrong it looked diseased.
The steward smirked cruelly.
"Oh, wait. One ingredient's missing."
He leaned over—
P'tchk.
He spat into the soup and laughed.
"Hahahaha! There, now it's seasoned!"
Zairen kept staring at the soup.
Unmoving.
Silent.
Too silent.
Then his eyes shifted.
To the fork beside the bowl.
As the steward turned to leave, still laughing—
Zairen spoke.
Voice sharp like broken glass.
"Hey."
The steward paused, turning around with a snarl—
"What now, yo—"
CHAK!
The fork pierced straight into his eye.
"AHHHHHH!!"
The steward shrieked, stumbling back,
clutching his face.
"Y-you fucker!! What have you—!!"
CHAK!
The second eye.
Screams echoed through the estate.
Blood sprayed across the wall
like paint on canvas.
Zairen was silent.
Cold.
He wrenched the fork out again—squelch—
and began smashing it into the man's face.
Over.
And over.
And over.
SKRRRCH. CRK. SPLAT.
The skull cracked.
The brain pulped.
Eyeballs popped like grapes beneath the relentless assault.
The steward's body convulsed…
Then went limp.
When the maids finally arrived at the door, they screamed.
One fainted instantly.
What they saw was horror—
A shattered corpse.
The floor soaked in blood.
And Zairen sitting there,
splattered in gore, fork still in hand.
He looked up, face unreadable.
Then… smiled.
"Ah. Got a little carried away."
He stood up—
Brain matter still clinging to his hair,
dripping down his cheek like crimson tears.
He walked calmly to the food tray.
"Fucker ruined my breakfast."
He picked up the soup—now mixed with spit and blood—
and poured it over the steward's corpse like gravy.
Then, with bloodstained fingers,
he casually chewed on the moldy bread.
"Now this… this tastes better."
⸻
An hour later…
Two armored soldiers stormed into the room.
They carried the estate insignia—
Crossed swords over a black sun.
Their faces twisted in disgust at the scene.
"You've been summoned by the Lord of the Estate," one barked.
"Cooperate, or we'll drag your corpse instead."
Zairen glanced at them,
still chewing.
"Relax, gentlemen. I'm coming."
He walked between them like it was any other morning stroll.
The soldiers exchanged nervous glances.
How could a weak, quiet boy do this?
Was he always this… wrong?
They passed through the hall.
Servants moved away like insects before a predator.
Some looked away.
Some smiled—
Finally, that bastard steward was gone.
Then the doors swung open with a thunderous slam.
Inside sat a bloated man in silk,
rings gleaming on his fat fingers.
The Estate Lord.
His uncle.
Zairen's lips curled into a smirk.
The uncle rose slowly,
fury dripping from every step.
"You… what have you done, Zairen?!"
Zairen's smile widened.
"Done? Hm… oh, you mean breakfast?"
CRACK!
The soldiers kicked his legs from behind.
Zairen fell to his knees,
forehead slamming into the cold marble floor.
His uncle stepped closer.
His voice low.
Venomous.
"This time, boy, there will be no mercy.
No tears. No apologies.
You're going to pay."
Zairen raised his head.
Bloodstained hair fell over his eyes.
And he laughed.
Softly at first.
Then louder.
Then louder.
Until the hall echoed with madness.
"Let's begin, then…"