Chapter 1 - The Agrece (I)
Alastor didn't know exactly when it started, but ever since he was a mere, innocent three-year-old boy, his father – Achille Agrece – had instilled in him the idea that they were assassins.
Not just any assassins, but killers whom everyone in the supernatural community used as legends to scare disobedient children, capable of making even the most terrifying monsters tremble at the mere mention of their name.
They were Grimms.
What is a Grimm, you might ask? If that question were directed at Alastor, he would answer simply and concisely: assassins with special eyes.
Highly lethal killers tasked with dealing with supernatural beings that disrupted the balance between the Human World and the Supernatural World.
It didn't matter if you were a Werewolf, a Vampire, or even the most disgusting inhabitant of Hell; there would always be a Grimm to deal with you if you upset the balance of the world.
And the Agrece family were such Grimms, endowed with gifts that no human or supernatural being possessed in this world.
They were judges, jury, and executioners.
Alastor grew up in such an environment, cold, indifferent, with a purpose chosen for him long before he was conceived. Just like his father, and his father's father, and his father's father before him, all forced into a predestined fate.
To kill and kill, until the end of his days.
"Alastor Agrece." Hearing his name called, ten-year-old Alastor lifted his red eyes, with pupils like snake slits, and stared into the same red eyes that belonged to his father.
"You have a mission," said his father, Achille, a very handsome man dressed in an elegant violet suit. His voice was as cold and indifferent as could be. No one would imagine that this man was speaking to his own son, but rather to a complete stranger.
"Do you accept this mission?" he spoke again, his red, snake-like eyes locking onto the boy, who appeared delicate and fragile before him.
"Yes, Father," Alastor replied with the same coldness in his gaze as his father. He seemed like a copy of the man, both in mannerisms and in the tone of his voice. They appeared identical in temperament.
Turning his gaze back to the flickering flames burning in the fireplace, Achille spoke in a cold tone. "Then go. Gregory has already prepared everything necessary for your mission."
As Alastor was about to leave, he stopped, hearing his father's voice again. "Failure is not permitted in the Agrece House. Do not fail, Alastor. Do not dishonor those who came before you."
Alastor didn't respond and left his father's office with an impassive expression. His footsteps couldn't be heard, and even his presence was hard to detect.
After walking through the long, dark corridors of the Agrece Mansion, Alastor stopped in front of a pair of doors and pushed them open, a loud creaking sound echoing in the air.
A room worthy of a prince appeared before him, and Alastor's gaze immediately focused on the canopy bed with red and gold tones. Lying between the soft, silky sheets, a girl dressed in an old-fashioned white nightgown for the 21st century was reading an ancient-looking book.
She possessed the classic Killer Eyes of the Agrece House. Her soft, smooth golden hair cascaded over the bed like a waterfall of golden strands. The ten-year-old girl looked like a doll perfectly crafted by God—delicate, small, almost fragile.
There was a rumor that when an Agrece was born, God would flip a coin, and in this game, He would determine whether the Agrece was a demon or an angel. However, it didn't matter which side the coin landed on—whether demon or angel—the Agrece would be granted an almost supernatural beauty.
Whether it was Alastor or the girl lying on the bed, they were so beautiful that you would wonder why God would create creatures so stunning yet equally deadly.
Alastor's gaze softened like ice melting under the sun, becoming gentle as he looked at the girl lying on the bed. His eyes caught sight of a beautiful red butterfly flying gracefully in the air, delicately landing on his sister's finger; the butterfly left a trail of red particles in the air.
"Alastor, what did our father want?" Roxane asked, observing the beautiful butterfly perched on her index finger. She felt the bed sink slightly and knew her brother had laid down beside her.
Looking to the side, she saw his handsome face framed by his noble golden hair. He gazed at her with a silent expression, but she understood what he was trying to convey through that seemingly unreadable look.
They were twins, and they understood each other's thoughts without difficulty.
"You're only ten years old. The rite of passage doesn't happen until we're thirteen," Roxane said, a cold look reflecting on her face. The delicate red butterfly multiplied almost instantly, spreading throughout the room in mere moments.
The entire scene was breathtakingly beautiful, but behind that tempting beauty, a deadly intention was perfectly hidden, ready to be revealed at the last moment for the victim.
Alastor finally spoke, his voice warm and gentle—completely different from when he was with their father. "It doesn't matter. Those who break the balance will die."
"Humph! When I become the Matriarch of the Agrece House, I'll banish that old fool to the dirtiest hole I can find in the world," Roxane remarked as she leaned her body against her brother's. She rested her head on his shoulder and gently stroked his chest with her hand.
Alastor didn't doubt his twin sister's words for a moment. His sister, Roxane Agrece—she was the most talented Agrece in a thousand years. Even he, one of the most talented the Agrece House had known in its thousand-year existence, would find it difficult to contend with her.
Not because of her deadly power, but simply because she was his sister, and he could never harm her in the first place.
As for the position of Patriarch, it was something he had never been interested in. If his sister wanted it, he would gladly give it to her without the slightest hesitation in his actions.
"I have to go," Alastor said, though reluctant to part from his sister's warm and gentle embrace.
"Go, but don't underestimate anyone, no matter how much their appearance may deceive," Roxane said, sitting up in bed and holding her brother's face in her hands with a serious expression. Her eyes did not hide the concern she felt in that moment.
Alastor nodded and rested his head in her hands, looking directly into her eyes. "My enemies will die by the sacred hand of death, sister. I promise you, I will not bring dishonor to the Agrece name."
Roxane nodded with a gentle look and kissed his forehead, a long kiss filled with worry. "I give you my blessing and expect to receive your first war trophy."
"You will have it, dear sister," Alastor responded with an incredibly serious tone.
Looking at her brother one more time, Roxane reluctantly let him go and watched as his figure disappeared into the swarm of her Illusory Assassin Butterflies.
"How dare you break the Ancient Laws of the Agrece House, you old bastard. I will kill you in such a painful way that you will regret it for the rest of your life." Roxane's face was so cold that it could freeze a volcano about to erupt. She had never been as furious as she was in that moment. She had hoped to preserve her brother's innocence for as long as possible, but she never expected Achille to dare break the Ancient Laws that governed the Agrece House.
If you're curious about which side of the coin landed for Roxane when she was born, know that it fell on the side that represented the demon.
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