Villains and Losers

2 A wish come true

I was adopted by the Duke, Ronan Montrose, twenty years ago. A name that carried weight in the empire, not just because of his immense power, but because of who he truly was— the Emperor's own brother. Born to serve the crown.

The Montrose family had always been loyal, bound by blood and duty to the imperial throne. It was said that within the royal lineage, only one child born with the power to manipulate blood.

The Montroses were that bloodline.

While the Emperor ruled the people, the Duke served in the shadows, wielding his dark gift. The ability to manipulate blood, to twist it, weaponize it— it was a power feared by many, revered by more. Only those chosen by fate could command it, and when Ronan had demonstrated this terrifying gift, his path had been set. The Emperor's right hand, the empire's shield.

He was invincible. Unstoppable.

It was during one of the worst wars in the empire's history that his legend had been solidified. The battlefield, soaked in the blood of thousands, was where he became more than just a Duke.

It was a war so brutal that the very land it was fought on still reeked of death. It was a hollow victory where thousands of the empire's finest soldiers were massacred.

A victory where only the Duke emerged alive.

No one ever talks about how he survived when everyone else perished. His name was immortalized, his strength praised, but whispers lingered in the dark corners of the manor. They said he made a deal with something far darker than anything.

Perhaps that's why he took me in.

I was said to be the child of one of the unnamed soldiers who died on that cursed battlefield, though no one could say for sure. No one stepped up to claim me. None of the fallen soldiers' families wanted me, not a single soul dared. To them, I was as much of a mystery as the circumstances of my birth, a child with no name, no history, and no place in the world.

The Duke claimed me out of convenience, or so they said. Some saw it as an act of charity, a token gesture from the great hero who saved the empire. Others thought he simply needed something—someone—to distract the masses from the bloodstains on his hands. And so, I was thrust into the Montrose household, a home that was never mine, a family that never wanted me.

But the Duke was different. He used to be different.

In my earliest memories, he wasn't the cold, distant figure that towered over the rest of us. I remember how he would keep me by his side, how he seemed to always want me near him, even though he was intent on ignoring everyone else in the family. It was as though I were his secret companion, a child who wasn't really his but somehow always there, tethered to his presence.

I remember sitting in his study, the scent of parchment and ink filling the air, the sound of his pen scratching across paper.

I was always there, perched quietly in the corner, watching him work. Sometimes he would reach out and ruffle my hair as I sat by his desk. There was no disdain in those touches, no cold indifference.

But where did it go wrong?

I can't point to a single moment.

One day, his eyes just stopped softening when they landed on me. His gentle glances hardened into something cold, distant, and eventually... disgust.

That was the worst of it—how his features twisted the first time he looked at me as though I was something vile. Something wrong.

Then he put me away. His affection disappeared as if it had never existed, and losing his favor meant losing everything. I wasn't just nothing in this house anymore; I was less than that. I was beneath them all. To Kalen, to Theodore, even to the servants. They could all see it—how the Duke had cast me aside, how I no longer held even the slightest bit of worth.