That night, in the grand castle of the Demon Queen, a young girl stood firmly in the training yard. Her dark hair fluttered in the night wind, while her eyes stared straight at the target before her.
"Haah!! Fireball!!" she shouted loudly.
In an instant, red light flared in her palm—but only for a moment—as the magic vanished as quickly as it had appeared, disappearing as if it was never there.
"It seems you truly are useless, Princess."
The cold voice of her instructor broke the silence, followed by the crack of a whip striking her skin. The pain was nothing new to Pandora.
After being lashed on the back as punishment, Pandora—the tenth daughter of Demon Queen Persephoni—could only return to her room, her body covered in wounds. She slumped into a chair near the window, gazing blankly at the night sky.
"Haah... What should I do now, Mother...?"
Her soft whisper was carried away with the moonlight. Her fists clenched tightly.
"I am Pandora... but that's not my real name. I... was once Santi. A human girl from Earth—specifically, Indonesia."
It had been six years since she awakened in this demon realm, living as the child of the most feared being on the continent. She knew this wasn't a dream—this was punishment. A sentence.
Pandora was a human. Or rather, a former human. In her previous life, she was just a girl from Earth. But because of a grave sin—one too terrible for her to even speak of—she was sentenced by the Goddess and sent to this world as a demon.
Unfortunately, despite her demonic body, she had none of their powers.
No demonic aura. No magical ability. No presence of fear that radiated from her like her siblings.
She was the weakest princess among Queen Persephoni's ten children.
And because of that, she was despised.
Persephoni, the Demon Queen, was an unmatched figure. She was so powerful that even other demons trembled at the mere mention of her name. She had ruled the demon realm for over a thousand years. Not only humans, but other races like angels, elves, dwarves, and beastmen had united in hopes of overthrowing her.
But the tides of war slowly began to shift.
The demons themselves began to defect. Tired of living under Persephoni's reign of terror and cruelty, many of them joined the humans, fighting on the opposing side.
The war was no longer humanity versus demons—it was the entire world versus Persephone.
"And I... am her own flesh and blood."
Pandora wrote those words in her diary. That little book was the only place she could pour her heart out. Behind her faint smile, there was a sorrow that never left her.
The next day…
BANG!!
Her bedroom door burst open. A demon servant barged in roughly, showing no manners at all.
"Get up, you lazy princess!" the servant barked.
But the servant was surprised to find Pandora already dressed and seated quietly. Her hair was brushed, her clothes perfectly arranged.
"I'm ready," Pandora replied softly.
Instead of praising her, the servant yanked her hair.
"Who do you think you are?! Trying to steal our jobs?!"
Pandora remained silent. She didn't fight back.
In her heart, she muttered, "I knew this would happen."
No matter what she did, it was always wrong. If she let the servants dress her, they beat her for being spoiled. If she dressed herself, she was scolded for being arrogant.
Her days in the palace reminded her of the past.
The reason behind it all was simple: Pandora was different.
Though born with demon blood, she had no demonic aura. Her power was even weaker than that of an average human. It made her seem pathetic and useless. Even her mother—the queen—had never spoken a word to her.
The servants took advantage of this. They knew Pandora wasn't favored by the queen, so they treated her however they pleased, without fear of punishment.
But in truth, it wasn't just Pandora.
All ten of Persephoni's children grew up in the shadow of their cruel mother. Not one of them felt loved. That's why, one by one, they began to leave, choosing their own paths.
Agramon, the eldest, now fought on the frontlines alongside the Drengr—warriors of justice. Rusalka and Paimon, the first and second daughters, had also taken up arms against their own mother.
Some found peace, some married humans, and others allied with different races to put an end to the queen's reign.
They each had different goals, but shared the same dream: to overthrow Persephoni.
Pandora? She was still here.
Six years of torture, and yet she never complained. She believed... this was what she deserved. A penance for her sins in a past life.
This is the story of Pandora—back when she was still just a human named Santi.
"Happy birthday, Santi!"
Joyful laughter echoed through the modest living room. A little girl with long hair and sparkling eyes sat in the middle of her warm and loving family. Her parents smiled as they presented her with a simple birthday cake.
Santi lived in pure happiness. At least, she believed the world would always be this beautiful.
At the age of seven, she started elementary school. Standing before the class with bright eyes and a cheerful heart, she introduced herself.
"Hi! My name is Santi!"
She quickly became the center of attention—smart, cheerful, and kind. It didn't take long before a girl approached her during recess.
"Hi, your name's Santi, right? Want to be friends?" the girl said.
Her name was Siska. That's how their story began.
They became inseparable—studying together, playing together, and even sharing little secrets.
But Santi never knew... Siska was hiding a wound deep within.
Unlike Santi, who grew up in a home full of love, Siska lived in a cold household. She was often scolded, hit, and ignored. Yet she never told Santi. She was afraid—afraid of looking weak, afraid of losing her one true friend.
But over time, a seed of envy began to sprout inside her.
Santi was always top of the class. Always adored. Always perfect.
And the most painful part? The boy Siska secretly liked... confessed his feelings to Santi.
"H-Huh? You like me?" Santi looked puzzled by the sudden confession, unaware that Siska had watched the entire thing from behind a wall.
Even though Santi gently turned the boy down, the wound in Siska's heart had already deepened. She felt defeated—in silence.
That day, Santi went home with a troubled heart. But at Siska's house, a more horrifying tragedy unfolded.
Police sirens wailed. Red and blue lights flickered in front of her home.
"Dad! Don't take my dad away!!"
Desperate screams echoed as her father was led away by the police. But the most devastating part—the reason for the arrest was murder.
Siska's father had killed his own wife… who was also Santi's mother.
From that day on, Siska vanished from school. A worried Santi visited her home—only to find it empty.
Two weeks later, they met again at the school gate.
"Siska! Where have you been?! I was so worried!"
Siska smiled. "Sorry, it's nothing."
But that smile… was a lie. And Santi knew it.
Still, she said nothing, not wanting to add to her friend's burdens.
Days passed. And Siska changed.
She grew distant. Started skipping school. Became cold. And slowly… began to hate Santi.
One afternoon, on the school rooftop, Santi tried to talk.
"Siska… if something's wrong, you can talk to me."
Tears streamed down Siska's cheeks. But she wasn't crying for help. She was angry. Angry at the world's unfairness. Angry that Santi had everything. Angry that she had no one.
"YOU'LL NEVER UNDERSTAND, SANTI!!"
Santi stood frozen. The arms she had stretched out in comfort now fell limply by her sides. She could only watch as the friend she once knew became a stranger.
From that day, everything changed.
Siska found new friends… and began leading them in bullying Santi.
Santi's school days turned into a nightmare.
What once felt like a place of joy now became a place of torment. Her lunch was dumped out. Her books were hidden. Her hair pulled. And cruel words haunted her every step.