My life became a rhythm of two kinds of pain. The hell of the day, and the hell of the night. By day, I was the "devil" hunted by the "adventurers" of the orphanage. By night, I was the "raw metal" that Ikumi tried to "forge" in her office.

  But there was a third hell, a quiet and silent hell. The afternoon.

  When all the other children went to their "Soul Gate training" sessions, I was left alone in the empty courtyard. I would sit on the cold ground, watching them from a distance as they formed faint blue lights between their hands. In this silence, there was nothing to distract me from my truth: I am empty. I am not a monster, and I am not a project. I am just a void.

  I hated this time more than anything else.

  At night, my sessions with Ikumi grew worse. Her patience had run out. She no longer spoke of "forging steel" or "the fire that awakens power." Her words became just desperate, frustrated screams as she hit me.

  "Show it! Release it now! I know it's in there!"

  And I, like a broken parrot, would repeat the only word I had learned might stop the pain for a moment. "Sorry... sorry..."

  One day, while I was cleaning a distant corridor as part of my chores, I heard two maids whispering in the shadows.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  "Did you see 'Oni-Tsuki's' face today? She was so angry." "Be quiet! She might hear us."

  "Oni-Tsuki." I didn't understand the word, but it sounded strange and special. I didn't understand the tone of fear in their voices; all I thought was, "This is a special name for her. A secret name. Maybe if I tell her I know it, she'll be happy with me. Maybe she'll see that I'm special in some way."

  That night, I stood before her in her office, the whip in her hand as usual. Before she began, I gathered all my courage and spoke.

  "I love you," I said in a small, trembling voice. Then I added quickly, as if presenting a precious gift, "And I heard a name for you today. The maids were saying 'Oni-Tsuki.' Is that a beautiful name?"

  Everything in the room froze.

  She didn't scream. She didn't move. Her face became a mask of ice, and a terrifying calm replaced her usual anger.

  "Who?" she said in a quiet, deadly voice, colder than any scream. "Which maids?"

  In complete innocence, and with the foolish hope that I had done something right, I told her their names.

  The beating that followed was different.

  It was harsher than any time before. It was violent, focused, and filled with a real, personal rage. Every strike carried a humiliation and hatred I had never felt before.

  But as I was taking the blows, I felt something strange.

  This pain... was directed at me. This hatred... was real. I wasn't just a failed project; I was the cause of her real anger. For the first time, she was reacting to me, not to the idea of what I should be.

  In that broken part of my soul, this feeling of connection, even through pain, was better than the coldness and indifference.

  The pain was worse than ever before. But it was real. It was all for me. And in that broken part of my soul... I loved it.