Since when does hatred make me feel better?
That is odd.
I turned around to see if Aries was still close to me, but he had already vanished into the winding, shadow-draped corridors.
"He is gone," I muttered, and looked at the screen again, the blue glow of the interface reflecting in my eyes.
"Emotional Feedback 'Hatred'," I repeated subconsciously.
Did Aries's hatred reach such a height that instead of hurting me, it's making me feel good? I remembered the demon's words about being a "Void." A void doesn't create; it consumes. It doesn't have its own light; it swallows the light—and heat—of others.
If my body is a battlefield between Dragon and Demon blood, then maybe this 'Void' is the neutral ground that feeds on the friction. Aries's malice wasn't an attack; it was a meal.
Hahahaha!
I let out a dry, jagged laugh that echoed off the cold stone walls. My mother hadn't just made me a "detonator"; she had made me a parasite. In a house full of people who wanted me dead, I had just found an infinite source of energy.
'So, the more they hate me, the longer I live? That's twisted. Even for a fantasy novel.'
I straightened my back, feeling a surge of borrowed strength. The trembling in my legs had stopped completely, and for the first time since I woke up in this body, the constant, gnawing chill in my bones felt manageable.
I didn't waste any more time; I hurried to my room, moving with a speed that would have left me breathless ten minutes ago.
Once inside, I bolted the door and leaned my back against the heavy wood, listening for any following footsteps. Silence.
'So, Elena isn't following me.'
I didn't go to the bed. I went straight for the loose floorboard under the heavy oak wardrobe, my fingers prying it open with frantic energy. I tucked the book into the dark crevice, but as my fingers left the charred leather, the book vibrated with a low, bone-deep hum.
A single page flipped open on its own, and the ink began to crawl across the paper like a colony of ants, swirling and rearranging itself until it formed a message that made the hair on my arms stand up.
THE FIRST SEAL OF THE VOID HAS CRACKED
The words on the page began to glow with a dull, bruised purple light.
"The seal has been cracked?"
I leaned closer, the purple glow reflecting in my wide eyes. Was it because of this book? Or was the book just a catalyst for what was already happening?
Aries's malice being turned into nutrition... that had to be it. The moment that obsidian needle hit my chest, it wasn't just drawing blood to sign a contract; it was cracking the seal my mother might have placed on me. She had locked away the 'Void' to keep real Rio safe, maybe.
"Whatever," I whispered, a dark smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. "I have to test it to be sure. And I think I know the just right person for it."
If Aries's petty ego could stabilize me this much, I wondered what someone with real, deep-seated authority could do. Someone whose hatred wasn't just a bruised pride, but a cold, calculated desire to see me erased from the family tree.
Laila.
The "perfect" sister. The one who looked at me like I was a stain on a white rug. If Aries was a snack, Laila was a five-course meal.
I stood up, the phantom weight in my chest feeling solid and hungry. I didn't need a sword, and I didn't need mana. I just needed to be exactly who they thought I was—but louder.
That is that, but why am I thinking so clearly now? I would have lingered on this moment a bit longer, second-guessing myself, but I just figured it out as if the pieces were magnets snapping together.
The mental fog—the one that had made me feel like I was underwater since the moment I woke up in this world—had vanished. It wasn't just my body feeling better; my brain also felt a lot light.
'This can't be that easy, right?'
I paced the small confines of my room, my boots clicking rhythmically on the stone. In every fantasy novel I'd ever read, a power this convenient always had a catch. You don't just 'eat' hatred and live forever without a price.
'Is there anything hidden which isn't revealed?'