Chapter 4: Haunt Their Steps to the Grave

“Do you hate me?”

My aunt’s voice cut through my thoughts.

She sat upright and stern, clearly waiting for my answer.

She knew that at thirteen, I was not considered young in the household. I was old enough to remember things. If I bore a grudge over this, it could spell trouble in the future.

Yet, judging by her current indifference, she clearly didn’t expect me to say anything. Or rather, no matter what I said, she would find a way to get rid of me.

So I smiled.

“How could I?

Uncle and Aunt’s great kindness—Clara will remember it always.”

I bowed my head obediently. Aunt probably thought I was scheming.

But I wasn’t scheming at all.

While everyone was unprepared, I suddenly pulled out the hairpin from my hair and stabbed it into Aunt’s eye socket:

“To repay your kindness, everything Uncle and Aunt gave my parents, I will return double.”

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah—!”

Aunt clutched her eye in agony. I was pressed to the ground, my head stomped under someone’s boot.

The weight of that boot was crushing, pressing my cheek to the cold planks. But all I felt was cold clarity, as if my blood had turned to ice water.

But I felt no pain.

“You let me live, and I’ll haunt your steps to your grave. That’s a promise.”