Trafficked: Reborn Heir's Revenge
Chapter 68: My Trauma Vs Yours.

Chapter 68: My Trauma Vs Yours.

Roderick leaned in, eyes wide in a mix of borderline rage and madness, "Tell me... Slave trash. Are you related to her? The Vermin homunculus that took my mother."

——

Oliver’s hair should not have been revealed. But during the fight, Garron had been smacked against the water basin.

When Oliver passed out, and into the night trial, he had fallen on the wet ground that washed through his hair.

The dye he had used was temporary at best—not enough ingredients to cook up something better.

That was why he was in his current situation.

Oliver looked at Roderick.

He suddenly flashed back to information he had learnt in his past life.

Back then Oliver had managed to become a trusted slave of the royal family, he had gotten access to certain incredible informations about different noble families. It was one of the ways that the royal family kept tabs on the noble families, a kind of control. Then again, information was power.

Roderick’s mother— Cassian’s wife had died when Roderick was little.

The records had said that it was an Homunculus that did it.

Homunculi were creatures created of mud, blood and purpose. They were made to mimic human beings in appearance and even Aether control.

In fact, they were near indistinguishable from human beings.

They only seized to exist after accomplishing their goals.

The history books said that they were used by the wise king during the great war with the Demon Prince Asmodeus, as a kind of substitution for a lack of human soldiers.

It is said that they were fearless machines—ever working, and ever destructive.

However, after that period of time, they were outlawed. Some said the alchemical technology to make them had gone extinct.

One had not been seen in hundreds of years—At least, not in the public's eyes.

But in this world, they were powers with capabilities beyond human comprehension.

The records Oliver had gotten his hands on in his previous life on the Vaelcrest were very classified. It was because of this homunculus case.

If people knew such an abomination was out there, many would panic.

The danger they posed was unimaginable. It was for this reason the records were classified.

But having lazy masters had its perks.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

The records said that on a trip back to their mother's family home, an homunculus had attacked.

Roderick’s mother had ended up fatally wounded.

This homunculus was a very unique type. It had the ability to infiltrate, by assimilating with the victim once it fed on its corpse.

Luckily, she had managed to fend it off before it fed on her children.

In fact, she had even wounded it.

But the cost had been steep. She was dying.

Roderick, a little boy, could not watch her die. He felt guilty. Even worse, his father was away, attending to matters of the state.

And so he made a deal with the Mordelune sisters. With their curses, the little brats extended her life. But it was not enough.

The scariest part about homunculuses was not even their focus to a mission. But rather, their bite. Even demons were wary of them.

Prior to her death, which was infinitely extended for days because of Roderick’s deal with the Mordelune triplets, Roderick’s mother suffered a fate akin to hell.

Her hellish screams had kept her children awake for days and nights with no end in sight.

But Roderick, he had prayed, hoped. That she would be well.

At the end, her pain was too severe and curse held back her life no more. She had died a very hunting death.

Roderick had blamed himself. Not just because of the deal he made that extended her life painfully, but because he had been the one.

The one that invited the homunculus in—a pretty little girl with hair as white as snow.

Right now, as he looked at Oliver. It was the same hair, the same texture. The way it flowed in the wind as if dancing with Aether. It was all uncannily the same thing.

Even looking at Oliver, at this moment, all he saw was her face, merging with his.

But why? Why did he not notice it before?

Well, Oliver had dyed his hair.

According to what Oliver remembered, Roderick had done tests, time and again on him—very very in humane tests, that suffered him.

It had all been because of a mix of fear and trauma.

This was trauma that Roderick was never able to resolve—trauma that had shaped his character, his inhumane nature, and his hate.

Oliver knew this. Oliver also had his own. But these days, he was doing much better.

With what he remembered, Roderick will fall even deeper into the consequences of it, and it was his father, Cassian, that finally ended him.

But of course, that would be many years in the future. And Cassian only did it in the interest of his honor and gain—after endlessly using the boy for his benefit.

Roderick would have taken the lives of many many slaves, caused endless pain by that time.

And now, those same growing eyes of pain, hate, that shall birth wickedness were staring down at him.

Oliver could bet that Roderick had already performed a few tests on him when he was passed out, but found nothing.

He was just asking because of his lack of believe.

If the reveal of his hair had not happen, Oliver reckoned that he might have had relatively peaceful days in this place. Coupled with the fact that he had been passing the daily tasks with flying colours, he might have even become a favored slave.

But that thought could be shelved now. After all, no matter what he would say, the results woukd still be the same.

In his previous life, he had begged again and again, tried any and everything possible, but this sick Vaelcrest did not care.

He would smile in pleasure as he came up with more creative ways to hurt and torture Oliver—all for a crime that was not his.

The Box of Blessing!? What a joke. That was just another room Oliver spent his days.

One time, Roderick placed him in a room filled with starved rats.

After which he would have the priests heal him again and again, until Oliver stopped screaming—not because he got used to the pain, but because the rats had eaten to their fill.

Even now, Oliver remembered it. Those scars were fresh as morning dew in his mind.

His gaze suddenly became sharp.

Beg? Hell no.

Instead, he spoke up, "Oh, if you want information on that creature, you will have to come close. As you know... its a sensitive matter." His eyes darted around, as if not wanting the other slaves to hear such a sensitive issue.

Roderick was surprised by Oliver’s response. He had expected excuse... or something else other than cooperation.

And for a moment, he forgot his anger, and his curiosity and hunger for this knowledge pushed him forward.

Information about that homunculus, he would do anything to have it.

A grave mistake.

Oliver leaned forward—still upside-down.

"The Homunculus is—"

His teeth suddenly bit into Roderick’s ear...