Chapter 1: Echoes of a Forgotten Past
The creaking of the wooden planks beneath her feet echoed through the narrow corridor as she made her way toward the main deck. Each step felt deliberate, measured—not because she was trying to appear confident, but because every movement carried with it the weight of uncertainty. Her mind raced, fragments of memory surfacing like shards of glass scattered across a darkened floor. She reached for them hesitantly, knowing full well that some pieces were better left untouched.
Her name came first. It surfaced effortlessly, unbidden yet familiar. Evelyn. Evelyn Veylan. A simple enough name, though it carried echoes of another life—a life before this one. Before corruption, before shadows, before the endless cycle of forgetting and remembering. The thought brought a faint smile to her lips, tinged with irony. Simple names rarely belonged to simple people, especially in a world as fractured as this.
She paused briefly, leaning against the railing near the staircase leading to the main deck. Closing her eyes, she let the memories flow—carefully, cautiously. This body had lived twenty years, most of which seemed ordinary at first glance. Born into a middle-class family in a capitalist nation on the western continent, Evelyn's early life had been relatively safe by Chrono Nexus standards. Safe, but not without its complications.
Her parents were merchants, pragmatic and ambitious, their lives consumed by trade deals and social climbing. They weren't cruel or neglectful; they simply existed within the confines of a system that prioritized profit over humanity. Their home was comfortable, their meals abundant, but love often felt transactional—an exchange rather than an emotion. Still, compared to the horrors lurking in other corners of the world, her childhood could almost be described as idyllic.
Almost.
When she turned fifteen, everything changed. Or perhaps it began to unravel. The incident itself remained shrouded in fog, fragmented and blurred, like a dream half-remembered upon waking. What she did recall was vivid enough to make her temples throb with pain whenever she tried to piece it together. There had been a creature—one of the fallen beings known as Shadow Servants. Seven types, seven forms of corruption, each more grotesque and horrifying than the last. That much she knew from the game's lore, even if the specifics eluded her now.
What stood out most clearly was the figure of her grandfather—a paladin clad in tarnished armor, his once-proud frame stooped with age. He had come to her rescue, though whether he saved her or doomed her depended on perspective. The contract they forged between them sealed her fate, binding her to something far greater—and far darker—than either of them could have anticipated.
Her parents hadn't understood. How could they? To them, the arrangement was madness, a betrayal of everything they valued. At sixteen, Evelyn should have been preparing for marriage, securing alliances through carefully orchestrated unions. Instead, she found herself embroiled in secrets too dangerous to comprehend. Her father's anger still lingered in her memory, sharp and biting. Her mother's tears, quieter but no less devastating. Even her siblings had reacted differently: her older brother, preoccupied with civil service exams, offered little support beyond hollow reassurances; her younger brother, barely old enough to grasp the situation, fled the room whenever tensions rose.
In the end, it was her grandfather who spirited her away from the city. Not out of kindness, necessarily, but necessity. Whatever power—or curse—she carried within her couldn't remain confined to a place so fragile, so ill-equipped to handle the truth. And so, Evelyn left behind the only life she'd ever known, venturing westward across the vast ocean that separated the two continents.
The western continent loomed large in her thoughts, its geography etched into her mind like a map burned onto parchment. Five nations, each governed by a different ideology: feudalism, democracy, capitalism, socialism, communism. Nations built on ideals, yet riddled with flaws. Corruption seeped into every crevice, manifesting in heretical sects, shadowy cabals, and creatures warped by forces beyond mortal understanding. The eastern continent, by contrast, was simpler in structure but infinitely more complex in purpose. Two country dominated its landscape: the Monarchy, ruled by an emperor whose influence stretched across the land, and the Theocracy, where faith in the Seven Gods shaped every aspect of life. Here, divinity wasn't questioned—it was worshipped, revered, feared.
Evelyn's journey had taken her far from both continents' comforts, landing her squarely aboard this pirate ship. Why pirates? That question remained unanswered, buried beneath layers of self-imposed hypnosis designed to protect her sanity. She remembered snippets—enough to know that piracy offered freedom, albeit at great cost. Freedom from societal constraints, from familial expectations, from the suffocating weight of normalcy. But also freedom from safety, stability, peace of mind.
A sigh escaped her lips as she opened her eyes, refocusing on the present. Dwelling on the past served no purpose. Not here, not now. Pushing off the railing, she continued down the stairs, emerging onto the main deck bathed in pale morning light. The salty tang of sea air filled her lungs, grounding her momentarily. Around her, the crew bustled about their tasks, oblivious to the storm brewing inside her skull.
"Morning, Captain," a voice called out, breaking her reverie.
She turned to see a disheveled man approaching, his muscular frame evidence of years spent hauling ropes and hoisting sails. His hair stuck out at odd angles, and his shirt bore stains from last night's rum, but there was a warmth in his grin that put her slightly at ease. For all his rough edges, he exuded a kind of rugged charm.
"Morning," she replied, forcing a smile. Her tone was casual, practiced—an imitation of how Evelyn would normally behave. Inside, however, nerves tightened like coiled springs. Every interaction felt like walking a tightrope, balancing between authenticity and pretense. One wrong word, one misplaced gesture, and the illusion might crumble.
"You alright?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "You look… distracted."
"I'm fine," she said quickly, perhaps too quickly. "Just thinking about yesterday's raid. Any updates?"
He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. "Nothing new. We lost a few crates during the storm, but otherwise, we're good. Oh, and the vice captain wanted to see you. Said it was urgent."
Her brow furrowed. The vice captain rarely sought her out unless absolutely necessary. Something must have happened while she was asleep. "Where is he?"
"In your quarters," the man replied, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "Been holed up there since dawn."
Nodding, she thanked him and turned on her heel, heading back toward the captain's cabin. As she climbed the steps, her mind raced once again. Urgency meant trouble, and trouble meant decisions—decisions she wasn't sure she was ready to make. Yet here she was, thrust into a role she barely understood, navigating waters fraught with danger both seen and unseen.
Reaching the door, she hesitated for a moment, steeling herself before pushing it open. Whatever awaited her inside, she would face it head-on. After all, running wasn't an option—not anymore.
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*(End of Chapter)*