Leon Benning first encountered the monster lurking within his soul during the late summer of his ninth year. Leon had always been a quiet child. With a sword in hand, he trained with focused determination; with a pen, he became a contemplative young scholar. He was a prodigy destined to lead the Benning family to the pinnacle of martial prowess in the kingdom. Surrounded by the expectations and admiration of the family head and retainers, Leon grew steadily.

“He’s a child destined for greatness,”

Clovis Benning, the previous family head, often said.

“His swordsmanship is extraordinary, a talent seen perhaps once in thirty years, and his intelligence is already sharp enough to grasp the lectures of scholars. I have no doubt that this boy is the future of our house.”

Praise for Leon never ceased. Typically, such expectations and compliments might weigh heavily on a child, causing them to shrink back or become arrogant. Yet, Leon remained unaffected by the opinions of those around him. He simply observed the world with his endlessly deep eyes. Still searching for his purpose, he wandered through life, always looking for something he couldn’t quite name.

Forty years ago, in that summer.

It was a year of unusually little rain. On one particularly sweltering day, a maid serving in the Benning household spilled water on Leon, ruining his clothes.

“I’m terribly sorry, young master,”

The maid, a mid-level servant who had been working at the estate for four years, turned red with embarrassment and scrambled to clean up the mess, fetching a clean towel. Other servants turned pale and began scolding her harshly, but Leon stopped them with a calm smile.

“It’s fine. Anyone can make a mistake. Please don’t be too harsh on her,” he said.

He placed a reassuring hand on the shoulder of the maid, who was on the floor wiping up the spilled water. The maid and the other servants were moved by Leon’s magnanimity, and when the family retainers heard the story, they marveled at his maturity. The family head, Clovis, was especially proud, summoning Leon to personally commend him. In Clovis’s heart, the decision for the next family head had already been made.

“You already understand what it means to be merciful at such a young age. While it’s sometimes necessary to be strict, maintaining rigid rules for subordinates and servants alike isn’t wise. You have the qualities of an excellent leader.”
“You flatter me, Father.”
“Such humility as well. I sometimes wonder if you’re truly of my bloodline,” Clovis joked.

Leon bowed, unable to meet his father’s eyes, a faint, emotionless smile lingering on his lips. His young eyes gleamed with an unsettling purity, devoid of malice, shining only with curiosity—a detail Clovis failed to notice.

“Well done, Leon. You may go.”
“Yes, Father.”

Clovis watched with satisfaction as Leon walked away with steady steps.

A week later, the maid was dismissed from her position after being caught stealing tea leaves from the storage room to sell. The maid pleaded her innocence, insisting she had never stolen anything, but the head maid refused to listen and dismissed her without severance pay. Forced to leave with only her belongings, the maid departed the Benning estate.

Three days later, a young woman’s body was found floating in a lake within the estate’s domain. With no visible injuries, the Benning family concluded it was a suicide. Rumors spread that the deceased woman had been a servant at the Benning estate, but the gossip faded quickly, forgotten by most.

The monster within Leon Benning had witnessed it all.

The spilled water had been nothing but a trivial accident. Leon had not been angry, nor had the incident awakened some dormant malice within him. It was all mere coincidence—an experiment, and the mid-level maid had been his first subject.

“Unfortunate luck, that’s all,” Leon murmured, watching the crowd gathering near the lake’s edge.

Even after unleashing the monster for the first time, Leon showed no signs of joy or excitement. His expression was dry, as if his emotions had been drained, leaving only a barren smile on his nine-year-old face.

He had done it simply because he could. To Leon, killing the maid wasn’t about proving the existence of the monster within him. He already knew he was different—profoundly so. It was curiosity, nothing more. Like a child climbing an old tree just to see if they could.

“...How dull,” he muttered.

It hadn’t been for fun, either. Leon’s hollow heart could not be filled by anything, and he didn’t expect it to be.

The sodden bundle in the lake revealed the maid’s lifeless form. The gathered crowd was soon dispersed by Clovis Benning’s guards. Clovis, having come to the scene himself, turned to his son and spoke in a low voice.

“Forget this. It’s unfortunate, but she is no longer a servant of our family,” he said, coldly dismissing the maid as a disgraced thief. His words were meant to comfort Leon.

“It’s regrettable, but her dismissal was warranted,” Clovis added.

Leon nodded in agreement. Clovis, mistaking Leon’s calm demeanor for composure, sighed. He hadn’t intended for his young son to feel the weight of leadership so soon. Leon, however, wasn’t burdened by guilt or responsibility; his head hung low simply because he was uninterested.

“Return to the estate. It’s not good for a child to linger at the site of death,” Clovis said.

Leon nodded again and turned away, escorted by a newly-appointed young knight. The knight glanced at Leon repeatedly during the walk back, his unease growing with every step.

‘Maybe he just doesn’t understand what death means yet,’ the knight thought.

But Leon’s reputation for intelligence suggested otherwise. The knight furrowed his brow, struggling to reconcile the boy’s composure with his age.

“Are you all right, young master?” the knight finally asked, unable to shake his unease.

Leon turned sharply to face him, and the knight swallowed hard. The Benning family was known for their gray eyes. Clovis’s were warm and deep, while portraits of past family heads depicted piercing, insightful gazes.

“What do you mean?” Leon asked, his voice devoid of warmth or inflection.

His eyes betrayed no reaction to the gruesome scene they had left behind. The knight instinctively took a step back, unnerved by the child’s empty stare. Leon observed him curiously, tilting his head as if studying a peculiar object.

“Your name?” Leon asked abruptly.

The question carried an authority that demanded compliance, as though stripped of all humanity. The knight hesitated, then stammered, “B-Bernardo… Bernardo Lennon, my lord.”

“Bernardo,” Leon repeated. “You’ve been here for only a short time, haven’t you?”

Bernardo nodded. The boy’s words weighed heavier than those of an old man.

“Yes… just over a month now.”
“And why did you ask if I was all right?”

Was this a test? Bernardo wondered. Could a nine-year-old truly be testing him?

“You won’t answer?” Leon pressed, his gray eyes boring into Bernardo.

“I… I was concerned, my lord. Seeing such a sight might have shocked you,” Bernardo admitted hurriedly.

“Do I seem frightened to you?” Leon asked, his tone genuinely inquisitive.

“…No, not at all,” Bernardo replied.

Leon exhaled softly, a faint hum accompanying his sigh. His gaze, dull and distant, lingered for a moment longer.

“I see.”

Without another word, Leon turned and walked ahead. Bernardo, left standing in place, scrambled to follow.

“I’m sorry,” Bernardo muttered.

Leon waved off the apology absently, nearing the estate’s entrance. Bernardo, watching the boy, felt a twinge of curiosity—an unsettling desire to understand him. He immediately scowled, irritated by his own thoughts. What was there to know about this child?

“Oh, about the young woman who drowned,” Leon said suddenly, as if recalling a trivial fact.

“I killed her.”

The estate doors creaked open, and Bernardo froze in place. A servant waiting by the door gave him a strange look, but Bernardo barely noticed. Leon’s innocent face tilted slightly as he studied Bernardo’s reaction. Bernardo’s hand rose instinctively to touch his own face, feeling the tight, frozen grin etched upon it.

It was fifteen years later that Leon Benning became the head of the Benning family. Clovis Benning, who was expected to live at least another forty years in robust health, fell gravely ill and unexpectedly passed away. Everyone around Leon worried for the young man, suddenly thrust into the position of family head at such an early age.

“You’ve done well.”

Clovis Benning’s body was laid to rest in the family crypt. The weather that day was eerily similar to that other summer. The difference this time was the unrelenting rain—this summer had been drenched in it. The oppressive humidity created ideal conditions for a body to decay. Clovis’s corpse, now resting beneath the marble tomb, would likely already be emitting a stench strong enough to warrant holding one’s nose.

Leon turned to look at Bernardo Lennon, who stood silently behind him. Since that day fifteen years ago, Bernardo had served as Leon’s knight without question, following every command without protest. Even as Leon meticulously planned Clovis Benning’s slow poisoning to claim the title of family head, Bernardo had turned a blind eye, dutifully maintaining his silence.

“Let’s return,” Leon said, pivoting on his heel.

He did it simply because he could. Poisoning Clovis and ascending to the position of head of the family was no exception to his philosophy. Bernardo followed Leon with the same feelings he had carried that first day, walking the familiar path back to the grand Benning estate.

There was no need to knock. As if they had been eagerly awaiting his return, the doors to the estate swung open the moment Leon arrived. Without breaking stride, Leon stepped through the threshold.

“You’ve returned, young master.”

A trembling voice greeted him. Leon looked at the one who had opened the door. It was a maid, the spitting image of the mid-level servant from fifteen years ago. She was her much younger sister, taken in by Clovis Benning out of pity. Her name, if Leon recalled correctly, was Fleur. She hadn’t yet shed the appearance of a young girl entirely, and her worried eyes revealed her unease.

“Yes. It’s stiflingly hot today,” Leon replied.
“…Please, don’t overwork yourself,” Fleur said hesitantly.

Leon met the maid’s gaze, catching a faint ember of something lurking behind her concern. That small spark did not escape his notice. As she stepped closer, Leon casually took her hand, tilting his head in acknowledgment.

“Thank you for your concern,” he said smoothly.

Bernardo, standing off to the side, observed the faint smile curling at the corner of Leon’s lips. His master’s curiosity had clearly been piqued.