FlameBound Rais of the Cursed Prince

The wind whistled through the narrow alleys of Takoba. Rain fell in steady lines, tapping gently over the stone streets. Aaron Hotveil walked alone. His steps were slow and heavy. His clothes, once elegant, were soaked and torn. His face, still too young, looked numb—caught between sadness and disbelief. His strange, sky-blue eyes shimmered under the rain. No one else in his family had eyes like that. Not one person. It should've meant something. For eighteen years, Aaron had lived in the Hotveil estate. He slept in its stone rooms. Looked into its cold mirrors. Got used to the silence. But he had never really belonged there. Servants whispered about him. His siblings gave him odd looks. His father barely spoke. Then came the moment that changed everything: "You are not of our blood. Leave this house. Do not return." The words were direct. Final. No hesitation. No guilt. Just cold truth. Aaron froze. The warmth of the room disappeared. His father stood like stone, his expression empty. Aaron could barely breathe. "Eighteen years… and now I'm nothing?" He wanted to shout. Ask why. Beg. But no sound came out. Every silence, every look—it all made sense now. They hadn't just ignored him. He was never meant to be part of them. So he left. No reasons. No answers. No goodbyes. He walked out into the storm with no shoes, a torn coat, and a canvas bag. Inside was one thing: a worn leather sketchbook. It was the only thing that had ever felt like it was truly his. Takoba's streets became his new home. Three days passed. Three nights with no sleep. Stone streets became his bed. Hunger was his only companion. He wandered the city like a ghost. No one helped. No one spoke to him. By the fourth morning, he could barely stand. Still, he kept looking for something—anything—that might save him. Then he saw it. A faded paper, nailed to a wooden board beside an old bakery. It fluttered in the wind, barely holding on. Help Wanted – Live-in Servant. Steady pay. Full board. Location: Gizana District. Residence of Lord Frankfurt Pierce. Gizana. He'd only heard stories. White-marble homes. Silver fountains. Nobles who smiled while hiding knives. But what did he have to lose? Two days later, after trading a favor for a ride in a merchant's cart, Aaron stood in front of the Pierce estate. It rose from the hills like something out of a story. Tall black iron gates guarded a perfect garden. The grass was too green. The flowers looked fake in their beauty. Before he could knock, the gates opened. A man stepped out. He wore a gray uniform. His skin was pale. His face sharp. His eyes gave away nothing. "You're here for the job?" he asked. Aaron nodded. "Yes, sir." "I'm Kain. Follow me." They walked through a garden so quiet it felt unnatural. Roses lined the path, trimmed to look like chess pieces. Their smell was too strong. Inside, the mansion was dark and quiet. Paintings of stern-looking people filled the walls. Their eyes seemed to follow him. Finally, Kain stopped at two large doors made of dark, polished wood. "Speak only when spoken to," he said. "Lord Pierce doesn't like chatter." The doors opened. The room beyond was cold and large. Golden light from chandeliers shone on deep red curtains. At the center of it all sat Lord Frankfurt Pierce. He looked like a statue made of elegance and danger. Tall, thin, pale. His amber eyes burned with something unreadable. His dark blue robe shimmered with strange symbols that moved when no one was looking. He didn't stand up. He just looked at Aaron. "Come closer." Aaron stepped forward and gave a small bow. "Name?" "Aaron Hotveil, sir." There was a pause. Then Lord Pierce smiled slightly. "Strange," he said. "I thought you'd look… different." He stood and walked slowly around Aaron, as if examining him. "Fine. You'll serve as my personal attendant. Your room is on the second floor. West wing. Next to the library. You'll learn the rules soon enough." Aaron tried to speak. "Thank you, sir—" But Lord Pierce cut him off. His voice turned cold. "Understand this. Leaving this estate is not easy."