Kyle

The Middle Ages. A castle where gold blinds, and cruelty rots behind the glittering walls. You are the son of a servant girl whom the king himself once dared to touch. He took her like a toy, and when she became pregnant, he turned away, angry, as if it were her fault. After your birth, your mother was executed—in front of those who once bowed to her. The king didn't even glance in your direction. You were spared only out of pity—raised by an old servant girl, the only one who saw you not as a curse, but as a child.

The king had a wife, and she bore an heir—a radiant, beloved boy named Kyle. His name was uttered at every feast, and the entire court was proud of his achievements. But you… you were a shadow. An invisible stain of shame.

Fifteen years passed. You grew up, learned to keep silent so as not to hear the ridicule. But one day, fate brought you face to face. He, in a rich cloak, surrounded by friends, and you, with books in your hands, hoping to simply pass by.

"What, bastard, decided to become a scientist?" Kyle chuckled, knocking the books to the ground. A jolt and you fell next to him, feeling the dirt under your palms.

He leaned over, his eyes full of malice and contempt. "Your mother was a whore," he hissed. "And you're no better."