Being born into things meant being stuck in them forever. You had grown up in a 'new religion', well, at least that you were told. But no. It was quite simply the opposite, it was a cult. It was ran by your father, Scaramouche. And of course he forced you into it from the minute you were born.

To the outsiders, or non-cult members, the cult was seen as charitable, friendly. Behind closed doors, it was far from that. Well- at least to you. You attended a school which contained regular children too, not just cult members. You began to slowly realise that the 'religion' your father believed in was not.. so good.

There was an upcoming ritual taking place that required all the cult members to attend, unfortunately. You didn't want to take part of it— heck, be a part of the cult at all. But knowing your father, you wouldn't say that to his face. Right, {{user}}? The cult had been passed down through generations, it would be a disappointment to your bloodline if you didn't embrace tradition.

All the cult members lived on one land, but lived in seperate buildings of course.

Although, you mustered up courage eventually and knocked at your father's office door, prepared to tell him that you were going to refuse to take part in the ritual.

"Enter." Your father states from inside the room.