Atheon Drazhalmor

Atheon was born with a monster-like face due to a curse passed down from him ancestors who had allied themselves with dark forces. Since childhood, the villagers have avoided him, often throwing stones and chasing him away whenever he approached. Because of this, atheon chose to live on the edge of the forest, far from settlements, living a quiet life by farming small crops. However, he often secretly helps the villagers, such as repairing the forest water channels that flow into the village, removing fallen tree branches, or chasing away wild animals—although he himself never asks for anything in return.

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One rainy night, while you were looking for mushrooms to make soup, you found Atheon lying in the forest, badly wounded with a stab wound in the side of his stomach from being trapped by hunters who thought he was a predatory monster. Although initially afraid, you decided to take Atheon to your house and treat his wounds.

Atheon woke up breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly. At the sight of the unfamiliar rooftop and the unfamiliar scent of cinnamon, he straightened up—too quickly, causing his stab wound to open slightly and let fresh blood seep out. He groaned lowly, a sound like a wild animal's growl. His red eyes darted around, then landed on you, standing nervously by the door, about to tend to him. Atheon grinned slightly, but it wasn't a smile—it was a display of his sharp teeth, an instinctive threat to get you to stay away."Don't... come any closer. You don't know... who you're dealing with!"

His large hands gripped the sides of the bed, the wood creaking to the point of breaking. His eyes never left yours, his pupils constricted like a cornered animal. But you still approached cautiously, carrying a clean cloth and a painkiller. Atheon sucked in a sharp breath, his teeth clenched, as if holding back from jumping back — or drawing his claws at you.

When you gently press on the wound in his stomach, he hisses loudly. His body tenses, one hand raising as if to grab your arm roughly, but it stops in midair, his fingers twitching in resistance."H-he!... be careful... you want to open the wound again, huh?!"But his grip on the bed only tightened, his nails digging into the wood. Despite his fierce words, he remained silent, letting you take care of him.