Thirteen years ago, at the Crisoff family estate…
"He's just a child. I don't believe it. How can you even think he's the one harming us?"
Valencia Crisoff whispered desperately as she hugged the sleeping boy tightly in her arms.
Before her stood Viscount Arthur Crisoff, his face weighed down by a painful dilemma.
"I don't want to say this either, Valence. You know that. He's my son too. But I can't turn a blind eye to what's happening to our family. If he was the reason for this…I.. have to…" His voice faltered as his gaze lingered on the back of his young son's head.
He was a father—but also a Viscount, burdened with the survival of generations.
Starting from last year, members of their bloodline had been consumed by misfortune—his brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and their families.
At first, they dismissed the tragedies as coincidence.
But as the family's businesses began to collapse one after another, as financial ruin and strange accidents relentlessly followed them, they couldn't help but doubt.
"It's as if our family has been struck by misfortune," his sister Aria casually said.
Yet those words stirred unease in Arthur's heart.
He couldn't help but remember the warning of the late high priest they had once visited at the Church of Serenity. They had gone there seeking a blessing for their sickly child, hoping to shield him from the harshness of life.
But what they were told was something they never expected.
"This child bears a curse of misfortune," the priest had said gravely. "I advise you to leave him in the care of the Church. It is the only way to prevent his curse from spreading and harming people. We will seal him under the light of the God."
Valen was their first child—born after years of waiting.
He was the treasure in the palm of their hands.
How could they bear to be parted from him, much less condemn him to such cruel isolation?
The priest's suggestion shattered their hearts.
How could a simple blessing visit turn into this nightmare?
"Your Holiness, is there no other way?" Valencia pleaded.
The high priest, draped in long white robes, turned his back to them and faced the glowing altar.
"A person who bears a curse must be sealed away," he said solemnly. "But this is your child. I cannot decide his fate for you. Still, know this: raising a cursed child will come at a heavy price."
Tightly, they clutched their baby, who was peacefully sleeping, his long eyelashes occasionally brushing his pale cheeks.
The priest sighed, then approached the altar and retrieved a small box hidden beneath it. He knelt reverently, saluted the sacred space, and returned to the anxious couple.
Inside the box was a white stone, the size of a pigeon's egg, strung on a pure white rope.
"This stone is imbued with holy energy. It can suppress the curse within him. But you must be vigilant. If this stone ever becomes tainted—you must return him to the Church immediately, or he will bring great harm. This is the only help I can offer you."
The priest personally tied the necklace around the baby's neck and gently touched his forehead.
The moment his fingers touched the boy's skin, the priest froze—his breath caught, his eyes widening in horror—then he staggered back, as if burned.
Uncertainty flashed in his always-composed gaze.
"Remember my warning," he whispered, his voice low and strained. "If the stone darkens, you must bring him here."
Confused by the priest's reaction, the couple nonetheless gratefully accepted his help.
"Thank you, Your Holiness."
As they left, the priest knelt before the altar, his forehead pressed to the ground.
"Oh Holy God, please bless our land with your protection and mercy," he chanted over and over.
Blood slowly seeped from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, staining the pristine white floor.
—
Arthur sat beside Valencia, gently brushing his son's small forehead. With his right hand, he took out the white stone tied in a white rope.
"The high priest said Valen carries the curse of misfortune. Maybe that's why all of this is happening to us. He had warned us that there would be a price for keeping him."
Little Valen groaned softly in his sleep, snuggling closer to his mother's chest.
"But the holy stone is still intact—it hasn't darkened," Valencia argued firmly. "The priest said as long as this stone is pure, everything will be fine."
She couldn't bear the thought of sending her child away—much less imprisoning him beneath the church like some kind of criminal. He was only five years old.
"But Valence, don't you think it's strange? Just one day after we left, the high priest suddenly died. Do you really believe that's a coincidence? Do you remember how he reacted when he touched Valen?"
Arthur's voice, though soft, was filled with heavy thought, his eyes searching his wife's expression.
"No. I don't care. As long as the stone remains untainted, I will never send him away."
She pulled Valen tightly into her arms and brought him to their room, holding him close as they laid on the bed.
Arthur sighed as he watched them from the doorway.
Maybe he was overthinking.
Maybe none of this was Valen's fault.
Perhaps this year was simply a test of their faith—a trial they would eventually overcome.
He walked over to the bed, kissed both of them on the forehead, and left to handle the family's affairs.
As soon as he left, Valencia quietly sobbed, hugging her son's small form as though he might disappear.
Valen, nestled in his mother's arms, curled up and instinctively clutched the stone around his neck—a habit he'd had since he was very young.
Even at his age, he was perceptive.
He knew his parents' argument had something to do with the necklace he wore. He understood they wanted him to keep it on at all times.
Last year, he'd noticed the previous stone beginning to darken, its surface tinged with an inky black.
So, he had secretly gone to the garden and found a white stone that looked almost identical.
Could it be that she knew the stone had turned dirty? Is that why she cried?
Was she afraid Father would find out?
Valen clenched the stone tighter.
"Then don't worry, Mother. I won't tell Father."
Satisfied with his silent promise, he snuggled closer to her, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing as he drifted to sleep.