Chapter 3

In the midst of the perilous circumstances that surrounded her, Roxana managed to find some moments of fleeting joy during her unconventional childhood. Yet, a constant reminder hung in the air, emphasizing that this world was far from the one she once knew. Here, the norm was as unusual as it was perilous—polygamy was accepted as commonplace. Her mother had revealed the truth, admitting to being one of four wives married to the enigmatic head of the household, the covetous Lant Agrece.

Her father's legacy was deeply intertwined with his offspring—a total of ten children, born to an assortment of wives. Only one among them, the four-year-old Ashil, shared a mother with Roxana.

In this sea of resemblances to their mothers, Roxana stood out, reflecting her mother's ethereal beauty with her golden hair. However, her father's fiery crimson eyes set her apart. Ashil, on the other hand, mirrored their mother from head to toe.

Amidst the gloom that permeated their home, Ashil radiated warmth. Like a playful and affectionate puppy, his infectious laughter had echoed since infancy, providing much-needed solace. Despite the substantial age gap between them, Ashil's unwavering promise to protect her, spoken in the manner of an older brother, warmed Roxana's heart. It was his light that guided her through the labyrinthine corridors of their peculiar existence.

"Xana, my dear little sister," Ashil would lovingly declare, "Your older brother will always protect you."

Her brother radiated purity, untouched by the greed and bloodlust that festered within their family. He was akin to an angel in this twisted realm. Roxana couldn't help but feel a profound gratitude for the twist of fate that had brought her into this world. If this was her family, she would wholeheartedly embrace it, that is what she had concluded during many sleepless nights. However, despite her will to conform to her situation, the name Agrece cast a shadow over their family, and their unique way of life set them apart.

They were deeply entrenched in the criminal underworld, infamous for their activities ranging from theft and fraud to smuggling drugs and poisons, often resorting to murder when deemed necessary. Their notoriety eclipsed that of ordinary criminal organisations.

But what truly distinguished them was the expectation that every child born into their family would continue this dark legacy. Agrece clung to its sinister traditions, demanding rigorous training from childhood to groom them into authentic Agrece successors.

For an ordinary individual from Korea, such a sinister family legacy was near impossible to reconcile with. Despite her rapid adaptation, her daily studies revolved around weaponry, poisons, drugs, stealth techniques, and knowledge of human vital spots, among other subjects.

Roxana was appalled at the expectation that she would have to participate in the family's habits, she had no particular talent in practical skills, instead she settled on simply memorising everything to get by.

"I had hoped for even a glimmer of talent, but you prove utterly worthless," her father's cruel words pierced the air, breaking months of his unsettling silence. Roxana, just eight years old at the time, she had barely seen her father in those eight years, his very presence filled her with dread.

Her father, Lant Agrece, rarely showed interest in his offspring. With three wives and seven children to attend to, expecting equal attention was unreasonable. Extra effort was only invested if he spotted any exceptional traits, or if his disappointment was too much to bear.

Roxana shuddered under his gaze, which held none of the warmth or tenderness one might expect from a father. It was as if she existed in his eyes solely as something to be wielded or used without disregard, not a human being, and certainly not a daughter. She yearned to voice her profound displeasure, her abhorrence for the cruel circumstances she was thrust into, she had never wished to have been reborn into this family.

Yet, in a moment when her father's gaze lingered on her, on the beauty she inherited from her mother, "Perhaps we can utilise the girl in another way."

She had later learned, her father had decided on another form of education, something that made Roxana's stomach turn. The art of seduction. Love under the moonlight, it was what her mother had called it as she dragged her to her lessons.

This education seemed tailored toward preparing her for the unsettling task of ensnaring men, either to extract their secrets or orchestrate their demise. The family's readiness to introduce such sinister facets to a child was deeply disturbing.

Appalled by her father's decision, she protested, turning to her mother and pleading, "Please Mother? Why must I study this? Do you forget that I'm only eight years old!"

"Xana, you must learn it, to not do so would leave you with nothing. You are an Agrece. You must become an indispensable member of the family," her mother asserted, her gaze filled with urgency.

Roxana knew her situation was pathetic, she was in a dangerous place, to be useless was to invite challenge to your very existence. She knew if she didn't do this, she would risk her own death.

With no strength to defy her mother's gaze or challenge her father's authority, she reluctantly embraced this unsettling education.

Despite accepting the situation, she couldn't grasp her studies, she continued to falter. The girl's past life had exhausted her, and this new one was even worse. She simply didn't have the motivation to succeed in such dark affairs.

Ultimately, any semblance of comfort Roxana had managed to grasp was mercilessly extinguished. The one light in her life, her brother Ashil, was disposed of at the tender age of 15.