"You're doing well, Elysia," Mama praises me. It's been about three months since I was born, and she's started training me—teaching me magic, teaching me how to fight and hunt, even though I haven't actually hunted anything yet.
It's so hard. She's very harsh and rigid, but whenever I manage to do something right, she praises me and is so sweet to me, so I try really hard.
"Thank you, Mama," I say as I clean my hands with a handkerchief. Living with Mama is still so uncomfortable, like something is deeply wrong.
And sometimes my head hurts a lot when she talks about certain things, as if I should remember something, but that something is broken. Still, she loves me, and I think that's what matters.
"Now, daughter, I think it's time for you to kill your first person, don't you? Hehehe." She grabs me by the waist and lifts me up, carrying me until we reach a room where a man is strapped to a table with a gag.
