PREVIEW

... the Magic Workshop were all a little distracted today. In between discussing and optimising various plans, they would occasionally glance over at the meeting room next door.

However, the door and windows to the meeting room were tightly shut, and it was impossible to see what was going on inside.

The soundproofing in the meeting room is also very good, so you can't hear what exactly the people inside are talking about. However, from the applause and cheers that occasionally sound ...

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I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.

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How long will it take for a murdered thief to distill into something monstrous? In this story the darkness only grows stronger, and its reach only grows wider as it expands by devouring the life that surrounds it. This is a dark fantasy where evil is a where, not just a who that focuses on slow progression, undeath, and atmospheric storytelling.

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A maid who is beaten on behalf of a noble boy.

Some memories of her childhood were cruel, but Yuriel held no resentment towards the boy. Rather, she liked it–The hand that carefully applied medicine to her wounds was always warm.

“M-Master, stop, Raph, sa, save…ah, mm…!”
“That’s why.. I told you.. to wait.. till I returned.”

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The ability that was like a stigma drove Yuriel towards an unknown future.

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