Devil's Prisoner of Love by Prefer

Aurora's words triggered a flood of memories in Mio's mind.

He had lost both parents at a young age. Despite being part of the Walsh family, a powerful and influential lineage, Mio had always been treated coldly due to his background.

Children his age would play in the garden, yet he could never blend in. He had no parents and no notable status to his name.

"Hey, Mio, go fetch the ball for us," one of the kids ordered.

"Why don't you get it yourselves? You've got arms and legs, haven't you?" Mio shot back. Every day, they would come up with new ways to bully him.

"Oh, talking back now? You little orphan, go get it!"

They taunted him with his parents' absence every time. Because of what his mother had done, Mio was looked down upon and called a bastard.

He couldn't understand why the sins of adults were forced upon a child. He had done nothing wrong.

Reluctantly, he went to fetch the ball. The garden was still damp from the rain, and the soil clung to his shoes. The other children didn't want to dirty their own.

Mio wandered into the garden, mud sticking to his feet. It was a rose field, brimming with thorns. Carefully, he searched for the shuttlecock.

"Where is it? I can't see it," he muttered after a long search.

"It's there. I saw it fly that way. Look harder," one of the kids insisted.

"Try bending down. It might be hidden under the roses," another suggested.

Mio bent down to search, unaware that one of the boys had snuck up behind him. Suddenly, a sharp kick landed on his back.

"Ah!" Mio lost his balance and fell into the rose bushes. He was only six years old that year. His small body was pricked and torn by the thorns, leaving him bloodied and in pain. He lay in the mud, humiliated and hurting.

children burst

him, like a

"Yeah, hilarious! Hahaha!"

to help him. It was a cold season, and Mio was dressed thinly. His fragile body was covered in wounds, thorns still

scene. His pale, hand-me-down clothes were now stained

doing this to me? What have I ever done to you?" he shouted at them, his voice hoarse with frustration. Weren't children supposed to be innocent? Why were they acting

of course! Everyone knows she was a prostitute. She slept with countless men to pay her debts. You don't even know

got sick before she died. You're her son,

out of the Walsh family! Stop embarrassing

hit Mio like bricks, each one heavier than

charging at them like a wild animal. Blood dripped from his wounds, but the pain in his heart was far worse. The children, terrified by his

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"Mio's gone crazy! Run!"

woman, nearly sixty, to take care of Mio. She was the only person in the household who showed him

filthy, wounded little boy in the courtyard, her face

so dirty again? What happened to

wasn't like that, was she?" Mio's eyes brimmed with tears, his small face

body was covered in cuts and bruises, caked with mud. He was such a delicate child, the kind others would cherish and protect. Yet, he had endured so much

course not. Don't listen to their nonsense. Oh, you're covered

pushed me into the rose bushes. That's

examined him. Some thorns were still

hurt?" Her tears fell onto Mio's small

doesn't hurt at all."

more mature than other children his age. He wiped away his grandmother's tears with

regarded her as family. His only dream was to protect

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unmarried and alone. She had worked for the Walsh family her entire life