The Outcast of the Accursed Blood

He was rejected from birth.
We laughed at his wounds, spit on his tears.
Then one day, we sold it.
Without a name, without rights, without a future.
He should have died that day... and he is dead.
But not as they imagined.

Because in the darkness, something woke up.
A table. Forty-four chairs. And at the end, the Fou.

Now he has a second chance.
A world to hate.
A power to understand.
And a past to rewrite.

He seeks neither glory nor justice.
He wants us to remember.