"I shall now read the verdict. The defendant, Kiska, is hereby sentenced to exile in the depths of the dungeon for the rape and murder of the villager Namia."
The moment those words reached my ears, I felt a surge of heat rush to my head.
"I’m innocent!" I found myself screaming at the judge. "The villagers framed me! I didn't do a thing!"
"Defendant, refrain from further outbursts," the judge replied, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Come on, move it."
The guards grabbed me, dragging my struggling body away by force. I screamed my innocence until my voice cracked, but not a single soul would listen.
"Get in there and stay quiet."
I was shoved into a cold stone cell. Tomorrow, I would be cast into the depths of the Kataroff Dungeon, an S-rank abyss located on the village outskirts. No one had ever returned from its lower levels alive. I was being sent there to die, destined to become nothing more than a feast for the monsters dwelling within.
"Damn it! To hell with this!" I roared, slamming my fist against the wall. Only a hollow thud echoed back—a sound as empty as my future.
◆
Kataroff Village. That was where I was born and raised. It was a place that bustled with adventurers drawn to the S-rank Kataroff Dungeon. It was also where I had been persecuted for as long as I could remember.
The reason was my hair: a dull, faded silver.
In this kingdom, those with silver hair have long been branded Alcusians and subjected to systemic hatred. Legend says that ages ago, the Alcusians betrayed humanity to side with the demons.
My mother was a local with brown hair, so my silver locks must have come from my father. He was gone before I was born—whether he died or simply ran away, I never knew. My mother refused to speak of him.
Because of that blood, I was treated as a pariah, and my mother was shunned for ever associating with an Alcusian. Children pelted me with stones; strangers trampled our crops. We lived in grinding poverty, rarely knowing the comfort of a full stomach. Still, my mother gave everything she had to raise me.
"I'm sorry, Kiska. I'm sorry I can't do more for you."
That was her refrain until she passed away last year. It was a simple illness, but medicine was a luxury we couldn't afford.
"Hey, Silver-hair. I heard your tax contribution was light again this year."
"I'm sorry."
The speaker was Dalga, the village chief’s son. He was flanked by his usual pack of sycophants. They always hunted in a group, preying on me for sport.
"Hey, an apology doesn't fix the books, brat."
My harvest was small because they were the ones who had trashed my fields. I knew that, and they knew it too, but pointing it out would only make things worse.
"I'm sorry," I repeated, bowing my head.
"Whatever. Let's just kick the crap out of him."
"Heh, sounds like a plan."
They began to beat me relentlessly.
"Die, you freak!"
Fists slammed into my face again and again. I didn't fight back. Experience had taught me that resistance only made them more sadistic. If I stayed still and took it, the damage would be over sooner. By the time Dalga decided he’d had enough, my face was a swollen, bloody mess.
◆
"Oh, Kiska... Dalga's lot again?"
It was Namia, my childhood friend. She was a farmer’s daughter from nearby and the only person in the world who treated me like a human being.
"Hold still. I'll clean those wounds." She applied a cooling ointment with gentle fingers.
"I don't understand why they have to be so cruel."
"It's just the way it is," I sighed. "It's my fault for having this hair."
"I don't think so. I think your hair is beautiful."
I hated my silver hair more than anything, but Namia always made a point to say that.
"Listen, Kiska. I have something important to tell you." Her voice took on a somber note.
"What is it?"
"I... I'm supposed to marry Dalga."
The world seemed to tilt. In our village, parents chose your spouse. Given the ties between the chief and her family, it was a logical match, but it felt like a knife to my chest.
"...I see. Congratulations," I managed to choke out. My face must have been a mask of agony.
"Kiska, is that really what you want?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in this village?"
"I mean... my land is here. Where else would I go?"
"I can't stand it! Everyone treats you like garbage. If you stay here, Kiska, you're going to break. I won't let that happen!"
"But what can we do?"
"Run away with me!" she urged, her eyes locking onto mine. "My family has savings. We could live for years on that. We can find a place where no one knows who we are and start over together."
I’d dreamed of leaving, but I was penniless. If she was willing to help, it wasn't impossible.
"Are you sure, Namia? You don't have to throw your life away for me."
"I'm sure. I'd rather die than marry that man."
"I see." I saw the fire in her eyes. "Namia... I love you."
"I love you too, Kiska."
We held each other. I had loved her for years, but I’d always buried those feelings, knowing an Alcusian had no right to a girl like her.
"When?" I asked.
"As soon as possible."
"Tonight then. We'll leave tonight."
"Okay."
We shared a kiss—our first. It was clumsy and brief, but it tasted like hope. We finalized the plans and parted ways. I was to come for her at midnight. I spent the rest of the day preparing, waiting for the cover of darkness.
◆
When night fell, I relied on the pale moonlight to guide me toward Namia's house. We were supposed to meet outside.
"No! Stop it!"
A scream tore through the silence. It was Namia.
"Namia!?"
I burst through the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. I threw open the door to the room where the sound came from.
"Well, look who it is. Why the hell are you here, Silver-hair?"
The scene before me was the most hideous thing I could imagine. Dalga and his cronies were there, half-naked and leering. They were pinned over Namia, tearing at her clothes.
"What... what are you doing?"
"What? You can tell just by looking, can't you?" Dalga sneered.
I knew exactly what was happening, even if my mind tried to reject it. In our village, premarital relations were strictly forbidden, but laws didn't apply to the chief's son.
"Wait, why is he here? Did one of you idiots tell him?" Dalga looked at his men. They all shook their heads.
I didn't care why. I just had to get her out.
"Let her go."
"Hah?"
"Let her go right now!"
I lunged at them, but it was one against many. I was beaten down in seconds, but Dalga wasn't finished. He was suspicious. He wanted to know why I had shown up at her window in the dead of night. He began to torture me to find the reason.
He started ripping my fingernails out, one by one. I screamed, but I wouldn't talk. I couldn't tell them we were eloping; it would destroy her.
"I'll tell you! I'll tell you everything, just stop! Please, stop hurting him!"
It was Namia who broke. Through her tears, she confessed our plan.
Dalga went berserk. The idea that she would choose an Alcusian over him pushed him over the edge. He began to assault her viciously. I tried to crawl toward them, but a heavy blow to the head sent me into darkness.
When I woke up, I was in this cell. The charge: I had raped and murdered Namia.
She was dead. Dalga must have strangled her to death and then turned the world against me to save himself.