Eyes That Read Fate, and a World That Begins to Refuse
Several hours passed unnoticed.
Within Vleresia's chamber, time flowed by a different measure—as though even the hands of the clock hesitated to advance too hastily in a room saturated with the residue of fate. The afternoon light, once golden, deepened into amber, then slowly paled, creeping across shelves and illustrations arranged with almost devotional care, like a modest altar to imagined worlds.
The two girls sat side by side upon the thinly carpeted floor. Between them lay I Hate & Love: Original View, its pages turned so often that the spine had begun to loosen—a quiet sign of surrender to its readers.
Vleresia read with a tranquil expression, her fingers occasionally brushing the illustration of the villainess at the book's centre, as though to reassure herself that the figure yet remained—present, intact.
For Lumistina, however, this was no ordinary reading.
Her gaze was fixed, her green pupils rimmed with violet subtly dilated. Her breathing remained measured, yet her heart no longer beat as it had before. She was not merely reading—she was descending.
"Villainess…" she murmured, scarcely louder than a thought. "Neither hero… nor victim."
She closed the page slowly, her fingers trembling faintly.
From childhood, Lumistina had lived along a straight line drawn with precision by her clan. The Clusris were merchants—not merely traders, but economic pillars upon which three thousand years of war and peace had rested. Their destiny was clear: negotiation, calculation, investment, profit.
That fate was absolute.
Desire, however, could never be so thoroughly compelled.
For years, Lumistina had asked herself whether life was nothing more than ensuring the uninterrupted flow of gold. Whether the summit of existence could only be reached by scales and contracts.
The novel gave her an answer she had not sought—yet desperately required.
The villainess within its pages did not pursue the salvation of the world. She did not beg for recognition. She created her own value, even if the world despised her for it.
And there—quietly, inexorably—obsession was born.
Lumistina turned her head toward Vleresia.
The smaller girl remained absorbed in the illustration, violet eyes shimmering softly, star-shaped pupils seeming to draw in a light unseen by others. Her face was calm—too calm—like the surface of a lake before a storm.
Interesting.
Lumistina's thoughts began to move with a speed she had never known. She no longer regarded Vleresia merely as a new companion, but as a variable—a possibility.
If every being possessed a path toward the summit of life, then some paths were never walked alone.
For the first time since she had understood the meaning of her clan's blessing, Lumistina made a decision.
She inhaled deeply.
Behind her eyelids, an ancient mechanism stirred—something inherited not by blood, but by sanction.
Xerdos, Hersie of Fortune.
In the world of Fletcher, the Hersie were not openly worshipped as gods. They were living concepts, choosing certain humans as vessels. And Xerdos was the most cunning—and the most honest of them all: he granted not happiness, only opportunity.
Within her consciousness, an eye opened.
The Eye of Panasvarti.
The world before Lumistina changed.
Layers of reality peeled away like aged paint, revealing the scaffolding beneath existence. Numbers, symbols, and layered meanings surfaced over Vleresia's form—legible, measurable, and… dreadful.
Status
Name: Vleresia Clev Zeneris
Race: Human — Descendant of the Hersie of Prosperity
Age: 04 / 04
Lumistina froze.
Four… and the limit was four years?
Her eyes moved swiftly, scanning the lines below.
Potential: Catastrophe Level
Villainess Level: 01 / ???
Her heartbeat quickened.
Catastrophe… in a child so small?
Yet what truly dried her throat was what followed.
Blessings:
— Breakout of Recycle
— Revision of Nous†
These were not mere blessings.
They were narrative instruments.
Powers that touched the structure of causality itself—capable of recycling ruin and rewriting understanding. Abilities that, within Clusris history, appeared only in myths whispered with trembling voices.
And lastly—
Luck: −999
Lumistina nearly lost her balance.
The world seemed to shift half a step aside. The number was not simply poor—it was absolute rejection. A sign that reality itself wished this subject had never existed.
At last, the unease she had felt since their meeting found its answer.
"So that is it…" she whispered.
This was why Vleresia's presence felt wrong. This was why two narrative-tier blessings could settle upon a child. She was unwanted by the world.
And the world… had its own methods of erasing anomalies.
As though answering that thought, the air beyond the chamber trembled.
A low sound—like fabric tearing from within—crept through the walls of House Zeneris. The floor shuddered faintly. The chandelier rattled.
Lumistina turned sharply toward the window.
She saw it.
Something that should not exist—shadows moving against the light, a form not fully bound to matter. Its mouth was not a mouth, but a fissure devouring meaning.
A narrative-consuming monster.
A being born when the world attempted to correct a "mistake."
"Vleresia," Lumistina said softly, her tone sharpening. "Do not move."
Beneath her calm, anger began to settle.
Not fear.
Calculation.
An investment of this magnitude…
Catastrophic potential… a pure Villainess…
And the world wished to devour her now?
"Disgusting," Lumistina muttered, her fingers curling. "This world is far too greedy."
In her eyes, Vleresia was no longer merely a friend. She was foundation. Pillar. A shortcut toward the summit of existence she had long sought.
And if the world intended to destroy that foundation—
Then, for the first time, Lumistina van Clusris resolved to oppose the current of fate itself.
The First Imprint, and the Blood of Fate Begins to Flow
For the first time in her life, Lumistina van Clusris hesitated.
Not from fear of failure—that sort of doubt had long been excised from the Clusris lexicon—but from the absence of precedent. What she intended had never been attempted upon a living being. Even within the iron-inked records of her clan, sealed by Hersie oaths, there existed no true account of its consequences.
The world, however, granted her no further time.
The distortion in the air grew coarse. Curtains swayed as though stirred by a wind without origin. In the outer corners of the room, shadows thickened—not from lack of light, but from erosion of meaning.
Lumistina swallowed.
"Vleresia," she said quietly, lowering herself to the child's level. Her voice shifted—no longer that of a girl, but of one raised in perpetual calculation. "You trust me, do you not?"
Vleresia turned. Her violet eyes reflected the dim light. Upon her shoulder, Scelox gave a low cry, feathers bristling.
"I like Lumis," Vleresia answered simply. "Lumis reads books with me. So… I trust you."
The words—unconditional, unguarded—struck Lumistina harder than she had anticipated.
Foolish… far too innocent…
And precisely for that reason, she must not die.
Lumistina exhaled slowly, then smiled—a small, sweet smile concealing a decision that would bend history.
"You like the Villainess in this book, do you not?" she asked, indicating the open page.
Vleresia nodded eagerly. "The one with the cold eyes. Everyone hates her, but she's strong."
"Yes," Lumistina replied softly. "What if… you became like her?"
The room seemed to freeze.
Vleresia blinked—then her eyes shone brighter than before.
"May I?" she asked, delighted. "May I be a Villainess?"
Lumistina held her breath.
As expected.
"You may," she said firmly. "But you must obey everything I say after this."
Vleresia nodded without hesitation.
Beyond reason, beyond adult logic—the child was ready.
Then it was time.
Lumistina closed her eyes.
Deep within her soul, something older than the Eye of Panasvarti awakened. An ancient seal, opening only once every thousand years, when the Hersie of Fortune deemed the world in need of a new anomaly.
The Primary Blessing of Clusris.
She felt Xerdos's presence—not as a voice, but as pressure, like the sudden weight of gold coins laid upon her chest.
"By the inheritance of Clusris," she whispered, each word articulated with ritual precision.
"By calculations that have never erred."
"I call forth—"
The air trembled.
"Entanment of Appriance."
A faint light—nearly invisible—flowed from Lumistina's palm and touched Vleresia's forehead. It was neither holy radiance nor crude sorcery, but a trace of possibility. A gentle coercion of potential, like forcing a bud to bloom before its season.
Vleresia winced softly.
"Does it hurt?" Lumistina asked quickly.
"No…" Vleresia opened her eyes. "It feels like… dreaming while awake."
Lumistina reopened the Eye of Panasvarti.
The numbers shifted. Vleresia's fate structure convulsed violently, as though the world were adjusting itself—lowering the scale of destruction to avoid immediate collapse.
Status
Name: Vleresia Clev Zeneris
Villainess Level: 01
Villainess Imprint Level: 35
Potential: Hazard — Higher Class
Strength: 20 [+1,200]
Speed: 10 [+877]
Defence: 100 [+2,000]
Nar-Qu: 3,720 [+90,000]
Lumistina stared.
Even after reduction, the figures defied reason. Nar-Qu—pure narrative quality—surpassed that of seasoned knights, approaching regional-level entities.
"This is… madness," she murmured. "Even at Hazard…"
She turned toward the outer corner of the room.
The shadow had taken form.
Vrezsoh.
The narrative devourer fully emerged—its body a fold of darkness, its mouth a long fracture consuming meaning rather than flesh. Each step cracked the floor not physically, but conceptually—as though the room's right to exist were being questioned.
Vleresia stepped back, clutching her small dress.
"Lumis…" her voice trembled. "What is that?"
Lumistina placed herself before her.
"That," she said coldly, "is the world attempting to eat you."
She glanced back sharply. "Listen carefully. You wish to be a Villainess, do you not?"
Vleresia nodded, fear evident upon her face.
"A Villainess does not weep and beg for mercy," Lumistina continued. "She stands—even when the world seeks to crush her."
She guided Vleresia's hand to her chest.
"Feel it. Your narrative."
Vrezsoh roared—like the tearing of recorded history—and lunged.
"Now!" Lumistina cried.
"Vleresia Clev Zeneris!"
For the first time in her life, Vleresia resisted.
The Nar-Qu within her erupted—not as light, but as crushing pressure that made the air crackle. The room shook violently. Scelox shrieked and took flight.
Vrezsoh recoiled.
The creature—meant to devour anomalies without resistance—was driven back by the narrative of a four-year-old child.
Vleresia staggered—but remained standing.
Tears welled in her eyes—not from fear, but from the pain of holding something far too vast for her small body.
"I…" her voice quavered. "I… do not want to be eaten."
Lumistina watched her, eyes alight.
Good.
Endure.
For from this day onward—you are no longer a child rejected by the world.
You are the problem that will one day break it.
And within House Zeneris, history began—quietly—to shift.