The Cursed Extra: Bloodline of Sacrifice

Knock- Knock

"Young Master Caspian," a voice called softly from the other side.

"Please wake up. Your fiancée is coming to visit today. You must prepare quickly."

Caspian blinked, groggy and disoriented, as the words sunk in.

For a moment, he lay there, trying to piece together the situation.

Then, a faint memory surfaced, a fragment of warmth in an otherwise cold and merciless world.

His fiancée.

She was the only person who had ever treated him with kindness, the only one who didn't look at him as though he were some kind of pest or disgrace.

Even in this broken life, that fragment of love and care lingered, untouched by the cruelty around him.

"I'm coming," Caspian called out, his voice hoarse as he swung his legs off the bed.

Though Ed—no, Caspian—knew he wasn't truly the boy this family despised, he couldn't ignore the faint echo of joy that welled up inside him.

This wasn't his life, but he could feel the remnants of the real Caspian's emotions.

For this one visit, this fleeting moment of kindness, the boy had clung to life.

Standing before a simple wash basin, Caspian splashed cold water on his face, steeling himself.

The body he now inhabited was a child's, just Nine years old, but it carried the scars of years of torment.

Despite the pain that still lingered in his ribs and bruises that painted his skin, he moved quickly.

He bathed and dressed in one of the few outfits he had—a simple, slightly worn tunic and trousers that paled in comparison to the rich fabrics his siblings wore.

The family's servants, bound by unspoken orders from his mother, never went out of their way to assist him.

He had learned to fend for himself.

As he stepped into the hallway, the grandeur of the Arkwright estate stretched before him.

It was a labyrinth of marble floors, gilded chandeliers, and towering arches, all designed to flaunt the family's power and wealth.

But to Caspian, it was nothing more than a gilded cage.

With every step, he couldn't help but reflect on the two reasons he believed he was still alive.

The first was her—his fiancée.

In this house of torment, she was the single, unbroken thread of kindness he had ever known.

Despite being promised to him at such a young age, she treated him not as a burden but as a person, something no one else in his life had ever done.

The second reason was the mysterious blessing every child in this world received at the age of eleven.

It was a moment of destiny, where one's potential was revealed, whether in magic, combat, or something entirely different.

Even the Arkwrights, as cruel as they were, couldn't cast him aside until they knew the nature of his blessing.

If it turned out to be extraordinary, he might earn their grudging acknowledgment—or at least escape their wrath.

As he walked, Caspian passed his siblings, who loitered in the grand hallways, their cruel gazes following him like predators sizing up prey.

None of them spoke, but their contempt was palpable.

Caspian lowered his gaze, moving quickly past them.

He finally reached the grand receiving hall.

Sitting in one of the ornate chairs, beside his mother, was a girl with fiery white hair that tumbled down her back in soft waves.

Her blue eyes sparkled with warmth, her delicate features radiating a youthful charm.

She wore a modest yet elegant dress that complemented her vibrant hair, and her posture was poised but relaxed.

Beside her sat her mother, a composed woman whose presence commanded respect without overshadowing her daughter's gentle aura.

For a moment, Caspian stood frozen in the doorway, his gaze locked on the girl.

There was something almost surreal about her presence—a stark contrast to the cold, suffocating atmosphere that defined his life.

'She's… cute,' he thought, almost startled by the simplicity of the observation.

His mother, Lady Eleana, noticed him and frowned slightly, her expression as cold and detached as ever.

"You're late, Caspian," she said, her tone clipped.

"I apologize, Mother," Caspian replied quietly, bowing his head.

The White-haired girl turned at the sound of his voice, her blue eyes lighting up as she spotted him.

"Caspian!" she exclaimed, her voice warm and melodic.

She rose from her seat, taking a step toward him.

He hesitated, unsure how to respond.

The flood of memories and emotions threatened to overwhelm him, but he quickly steadied himself.

"Hello," he said softly, managing a faint smile.

Her smile widened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Caspian felt a glimmer of something that wasn't fear, pain, or despair.

It was faint, fragile, but unmistakable.

It was hope.