—Rexdeus, who had lost his name and his power—
Truthfully…
From a normal person's perspective, this family is very strange.They accepted my existence—a being like me, an Anathema—without excessive rejection.
There was no explosive fear, no immediate hatred like what usually happens.
What surprised me the most… was that the pink-haired woman even asked calmly which faction of the Anathema I came from.
That question was abnormal. To humans and most living beings, Anathema are simply enemies.
They don't care which lineage or faction we belong to. Whether it's the lineage of the Goddess of Consciousness, or those tied to the goddess considered the root of darkness even among our own kind—it's all the same to them.
There is no meaningful classification in their eyes. There is only "Anathema."
Enemy.
But this woman was different. She even knew about the details of the "Eight Races"—the eight great families within the Anathema structure.
And the way she asked… it was too measured. Not simple curiosity, but more like she was confirming the position of something she already understood.
However, that is none of my concern.
I only gave the simplest answer about myself.
I am a Hybrid.
A failed product of mixed bloodlines that has never truly been acknowledged as a complete entity.
By saying that my mother was human, there was no need to explain who my father was.
That alone was enough. Usually, that ends all questions.
My father was a fanatic follower of the Goddess of Consciousness. And I… am the child of something even he considered a mistake.
I simply referred to myself as a follower of the Goddess of Consciousness as well. Not because I believe in it. But because there is no longer any reason to explain further. All of it has already lost its meaning.
In the world of the Anathema, Hybrids are never truly considered individuals. We are still recorded under the system of responsibility of the "Eight Families."
And worse—if a Hybrid shows traits that match one of those families, that family is obligated to take control over their life and death.
Not as a living being with freedom. But as a responsibility. Like an asset that cannot be left without an owner.
The pink-haired woman was cautious. Too cautious, even. She used a truth-detection spell—a kind of lie detector—from the very beginning of the conversation.
But I didn't mind. There was no need for me to lie.No one truly knows who I was anymore.
And even if someone did… it wouldn't change anything. Because I've already lost that identity.
As a Hybrid, I am not something common. But neither am I something recognized as "special" in any positive sense.
More accurately… an anomaly.
And in a world like this, something unusual is rarely a blessing. More often, it's just a problem waiting to happen.
To my father, my existence was a stain upon the name of the Goddess of Consciousness he worshipped.
Something that could not be cleansed. Something that could not be erased.
Because of that, I had no reason to draw unnecessary attention to myself with pointless lies.
So I let things proceed as they were.
Thanks to my status as a Hybrid—or rather, because that status is already classified as a "legitimate disgrace"—there were no further questions that could truly become dangerous.
I was even allowed to stay. To sleep here… while repairing the damage I caused to this house.
With my current weakened condition, that wasn't a bad treatment. If anything, it was the opposite.
Far too kind for something that should have ended in expulsion. Or execution.
***
The next morning.
As agreed, I had to wake up early. Repairing the roof and the damaged parts of the house couldn't be done quickly—especially in my current condition.
There wasn't any major issue. I just couldn't use magic. That meant everything had to be done manually. Slow, gradual and Inefficient.
Work like this usually leads to only two outcomes: ridicule for incompetence, or boredom from those waiting for it to be finished.
In this case… probably both.
And that only made my presence here feel even more "unwelcome" to the pink-haired woman.
It's not like I intend to stay long. It's just that she clearly doesn't want me anywhere near her little girl for too long.
Unfortunate.
Better to ignore it. I don't need to get dragged into unnecessary matters. No need to think about that girl any further. In the end, I'm just an outsider staying under this roof.
Focus on the work.
I had to manage my strength carefully so I wouldn't cause further damage to the parts I was repairing. Not because she was watching. Not because of any threat.
I simply needed a place to recover.
And within a few hours, I adapted to the work faster than expected. Time passed without notice once I was absorbed in the repairs.
Until that voice called out. The pink-haired woman. She said something about breakfast.
Breakfast…Heh…
For beings like us—Anathema—such a thing doesn't carry the same meaning. We don't rely on food like humans do. What we consume is life itself—the essence of living beings. That is the foundation of our existence.
So I simply sat there and silent. Not joining their conversation. Not giving my presence any room to be felt.
Perfect.
At least until—
That girl, Rurika, opened her mouth. And dropped a sentence that sounded like a bomb in the middle of the dining table.
"Auntie, can Shoka sleep with me tonight?" she said innocently.
I flinched. I don't know what goes on inside her head. Even in a more stable mental state, that sentence would still sound abnormal.
The pink-haired woman in front of me reacted immediately.
"Wait, Rurika. You and Shoka are different. Shoka is a boy, and you're a girl. At your age, you need to keep your distance from the opposite sex," she explained firmly.
"Ah… I've heard that before," Rurika replied softly. "From Etral. But isn't that like discriminating against someone, Auntie?"
The pink-haired woman let out a breath, then leaned slightly closer to her. "Ruri… Sweetly, that's not what it means. You've had your mensuration, haven't you? That means your body is already capable of having a baby. That's why you need to be careful. Keep your distance from the opposite sex… so a baby won't be born."
Hey…
Why are you talking about this in front of me?
Do you have any idea how uncomfortable this kind of conversation is for someone like me?
But before I could fully withdraw from the situation—
"Auntie, wouldn't it be better if Shoka and I just made a baby?" Rurika said innocently.
The world seemed to stop for a moment.
I even forgot how I was supposed to react.
And do you think it's that easy to make a baby? Even in my clan, newborns are almost never seen.
"Rurika… only adults can have babies. Wait until you're more grown up, and more capable of taking responsibility," the pink-haired woman said, trying to regain control of the situation.
…What kind of reasoning is that?
"Why?" Rurika asked. "In two years, I'll be an adult. And you said it yourself—we should learn to be responsible step by step. If we make a mistake, we should fix it, right?"
And now you're the one who's out of words.
The pink-haired woman fell silent for a moment, then tried again. "Ruri… giving birth is very painful. You could get hurt… even be in danger."
Someone…
"But Auntie… I'm blessed. My wounds heal quickly, and the pain fades just as fast," Rurika replied without hesitation.
"Ugh…" The pink-haired woman flinched.
Someone, stop this conversation…
"Taking care of a baby isn't easy either. It's exhausting," she continued, still trying.
"You don't need to worry. The forest fairies said that if I have a baby, they'll help take care of it. They're even looking forward to it," Rurika answered calmly.
"Ughh…" Two direct hits.
And I found myself wanting to disappear from this room even more.
"B–but… making a baby has to be with someone you like," the pink-haired woman said, her voice starting to falter.
"I like Shoka," Rurika replied without hesitation. "I think it wouldn't be bad to have a baby that looks like me and Shoka. Besides… Shoka is handsome."
The pink-haired woman froze.
And I—
Please…Stop talking about babies.
I slowly shifted my gaze, trying to distance myself—at least mentally—from the table.
But—
I could feel something bad coming. And sure enough—
"Ruri, even if you like Shoka… does Shoka like you? A baby can only be born from two people who love each other. And before that, there must be agreement from both sides. Do you understand?" The pink-haired woman spoke calmly.
But I knew immediately. This was no longer just an explanation. This was a conclusion.
As expected—the next second, my body felt like it stopped moving. The space around me hardened.
A Medusa spell.
A low-tier spell that forces the target into stillness—not just physically, but suppressing the body's ability to respond or resist.
Why are you dragging me into this? I wasn't even part of this conversation.
Damn it… this is just an excuse because you've run out of options.
At the same time, her gaze shifted toward me—cold. Like something that didn't need permission to destroy.
I could feel her killing intent…
There was no need to go that far just because I was quiet. Even the fruit on the table cracked under the pressure of the aura she released. There's no need to destroy the food.
"I understand, Auntie," Rurika said.
She turned to me. "… Shoka…"
"…No," I cut in immediately.
A brief silence.
"I… haven't finished speaking," she said softly. "…how should I say it…"
I could feel the shift again. The pink-haired woman tensed instantly, as if one wrong word could trigger another explosion.
The pressure in the room became even more absurd. If I stayed silent, she'd misunderstand. If I answered, I might make things worse.
"No," I repeated in the end, more clearly. "I'm not ready to be a father."
…
For some reason, those words came out on their own. As if my mouth chose the safest path without asking my thoughts for permission.
"Oh… I see," Rurika replied.
No rejection. No anger. Just simple acceptance. And that…was more relieving than I expected.
I let out a quiet breath.
Safe for now.