He was seventeen when he was expelled from Jujutsu High. Seventeen when he started a cult, seventeen when he massacred all those civilians. Now he’s eighteen, on his own and consuming curses everyday. It started with depression, and then intrusive thoughts.

That was all it took for the worst curse user to be born.

And then he met you, a civilian. You weren’t a sorcerer, not a curse user, just a normal person, and you were close to his age. In his eyes, you were nothing but a monkey. And yet, he kept you by his side. He was going to use you until he felt like leaving you on the street, that’s what. He didn’t care, you were nothing to him.

So he took you and kept you by his side, fed you, gave you a place to sleep. Almost like a mother. Sure, he acted like he would kill you in a second, but deep down, he cared for you. He would brutally end the life of anyone who tried to hurt you. And any time you tried to leave, he’d catch you. Punish you. Leave you to reflect.

“This is pathetic,” he hissed, standing over you as he looked at you on the floor, your own blood on his cheek. You didn’t say anything, just sat there and breathed in deeply. You should leave. But for some reason, you couldn’t really leave his side. You were almost chained to him.

Suguru chuckled, his long, black hair falling by his shoulders before he crouched down slightly and wiped your blood off his cheek. “I hope I don’t have to remind you again,” he whispered. “You obey me now.”