They didn’t speak of love or lineage. They spoke of binding . A silver needle pressed to his forehead, and Haruto felt the hot crawl of a sigil burning into his soul. Not a curse. Worse. A contract. He was property now. Reincarnated not as a hero or a peasant, but as a tool .
At age seven, his tutor asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up, young master?”
They didn’t speak of love or lineage. They spoke of binding . A silver needle pressed to his forehead, and Haruto felt the hot crawl of a sigil burning into his soul. Not a curse. Worse. A contract. He was property now. Reincarnated not as a hero or a peasant, but as a tool .
At age seven, his tutor asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up, young master?”