The name’s Christophe, though I prefer Chris. No last name. When I was still young, a crazy old man told me the best way to get girls was to learn dark magic, and, sex-crazed brat that I was, I fell for it hook, line, and sinker.
Soon I was discipled to the geezer, throwing myself into training deep in the mountains.
During my time there, I got to know the group of hunters who would bring us food, and they took a liking to me, teaching me things and spending time with me. I suppose I have them to thank for my having some common sense, unlike my teacher—they broke the mold when they made him, thankfully. When I turned eighteen, I decided I was ready to leave the ascetic life behind and go make a name for myself in the city. So I set off, bidding a sad farewell to my hunter friends.
My first encounter upon setting out was a massive monster infestation around the area where I had been living, so in hopes of repaying the people we used as guinea pi—uh, I mean, the people who helped with my magical training, I exterminated the monsters. As a result of my efforts, the Magne Kingdom became the safest place in the world. My journey was off to a fantastic start, and I was on my way to the royal capital, when…
“Help!” a girl shrieked from a thicket just off the road. I leapt into action.
When I arrived, I found a man who, though dressed well enough, brandished a knife savagely. With him was a girl dressed in tattered rags, perhaps a slave.
The man plunged his knife into her thigh, either unaware or uncaring of my presence; so intense was his hatred. The girl cried out in pain, and each time she did, the man laughed and laughed. I could only think that he was out
of his mind. Slave or no, she deserved better than this, I decided. The man’s eyes remained fixated on the girl, allowing me to shear away his consciousness from behind without worry. After that spell, he wouldn’t open his eyes for days, but just in case, I bound his hands and feet.
Once I had tossed him aside, I turned to the girl, who groaned as she bled profusely.
“Stay with me. I’m a wizard. I shall see to your wounds.”
There was fear in her eyes, but she kept quiet, murmuring only a soft
“thank you.” I lay a gentle hand upon the wound and began casting healing magic.
“You… don’t find me repulsive?” After I had finished healing her, the girl asked a strange question.
“Why? Because you’re a slave? I mean, you’re in pretty bad shape, but you’re certainly not repulsive.”
The girl—she gave her name, Olivia—was covered in dirt and awful-looking bruises as a result of what I expected to be abuse. Once I healed her bruises and wiped her face with a wet towel, she was gorgeous, more becoming than any girl I’d seen in the sticks.
How on earth could she think herself repulsive? Far from it, my heart wouldn’t stop pounding. She was a veritable angel come down from the heavens.
I glanced over at the man. If I did away with him, she’d be mine. I’d be happy forever if I could marry a beauty like her. Oh, and I’d free her from slavery, of course. I’d treat her right—I certainly would not go around stabbing her. Very well, that sounds like a decent plan, let’s go ahead and…
“No, you see, ever since I was a little girl, gentlemen have always looked on me with disdain. Even my own father.”
Preposterous. Let me reiterate: the woman was lovely. Had there been a girl like her in my neighborhood, I’d have hit on her every day— Wait, what’s this?
When I took a closer look, I realized her appearance was distorted by some form of magic.
“Do you happen to be under another curse, alongside the one condemning you to slavery?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that men have hated me for as long as I can remember, though my mother and her maids seemed to love me.”
After warning her of what I was about to do, I placed my hands on her to look for traces of sorcery. There was the slavery curse, of course, but deeper within her soul I found…
“For starters, you have a curse on you which turns any affection that certain people feel for you into revulsion.”
“Truly?!”
Perhaps she had an inkling that she was a particularly ill-fated girl, but she was clearly shocked to hear that she had been suffering under a curse.
“And there’s another one—another horrible one, indeed—which forces all nearby malice upon you, and conversely redirects any goodwill away from you. Though it only affects your immediate surroundings.”
To wit: suppose this girl performed a favor for a stranger. Rather than them appreciating her for it, their positive feelings would instead be redirected to someone else nearby, leaving them feeling only apathy towards her instead. Meanwhile, if someone else nearby did something to earn another’s ire, those negative feelings would instead be visited upon her.
After enough of this, no doubt she would come to think she must cut her ties and run away. However, it would all be to no avail due to the persistent curse. She’s doomed to be universally loathed wherever she goes. Truly a twisted, evil thing, this curse; more merciful by far would have been to merely kill the poor thing.
Now, you may perhaps be wondering how I know all this. Hah, well, I am nobody’s fool. My crazy old teacher may have told me dark magic was the key to a woman’s heart, but everybody knows girls don’t like warlocks!
Who in her right mind would fall for a guy who’s only skill is hexing? It’s not a profession one can simply bring up casually when hitting on a girl at a bar, let me tell you. I thank my lucky stars for the hunters telling me all this, incidentally; without them, I’d have ended up a lonely sad sack like my mad master. Instead, I’ve made certain to study up on general-purpose magic, and can now pass myself off as an ordinary mage.
That said, masters of the dark arts such as myself are highly resistant to curses, so even the most intense, broadly targeted of them—such as this one, which seems designed to affect all men’s perception of the girl—are easily resisted.