Let me tell you a dark secret, something my family wanted to hide at all costs. A secret I should have dumped in the chasm of forgotten memories like rotting peels of vegetables. Instead, I dug it bit by bit with the aid of a shovel made up from both my eagerness and confusion.

Tears escaped from my weary eyes as the tapestry of my life flickered against my closed lids, resembling a persistent suitor I couldn’t just shake off. Right there, I saw how the major turning point of my life unfolded like a book I failed to take a look at when I still had ample time.

Innocent questions from my younger self started the smoke that later on morphed into untamable flames of passion.

It happened on a sunny day in June as I held the paperback of a dystopian novel in my shaking hands. I remembered how the warm rays of the sun illuminated the calm face of the first man I ever loved as he looked at me with both pride and expectation. 

The smell of coffee lingered in the soothing air as the beige curtain of our huge glass window swayed with its rhythm. From the ajar window I saw the massive trees in the forest, standing so proud in the heat of the summer like dedicated guards in my beautiful prison. They’d been here since the day I was born; they became imposing as I learned to crawl, and perhaps they would remain here until the day I died.

“You can ask me anything, sweetie,” the gentle voice of my father made my gaze slithered back to him.

I placed the book on my lap, put my palms above it, and straightened my back like a prim lady just to conceal the raging storm of emotions swirling in my system. My lips quivered when I attempted to open my mouth. I ended up taking a deep breath first before I made my second attempt. My father remained patient as I did the impossible task of pacifying my stubborn feeling.

When I felt like I could speak without crying like a baby, I asked. “Why does it hurt like this, Dad? How can a simple book pierce my heart with pain?”

He gave me a smile.

“That is the magic of literature, sweetie. It was the greatest gift one of our ancestors had given to us. The more you put your heart in what you’re reading, the more it will lure you to deep emotions.” He leaned closer and held my shoulders, sending a little comfort in me.

I caressed the cover as I digested my father’s words of wisdom. My thirteen-year-old mind at that time struggled to understand its depth. So I set aside those thoughts and focused on the more pressing matter I was itching to voice out.

“Can love cure even the most devious heart?” I almost whispered.

Dad chuckled, as if he found my question rhetorical. “Of course, sweetie. Authors have shown how great love is.”

A single tear escaped my eyes. I still couldn’t get it.

“But why did E-eron have to die in the end? If love can cure, why did the author let him die at the end when all his life he just wanted to be loved despite his flaws?” I sobbed.

“Sweetie…”

The horror in my father’s expression caught me off guard. His grip on my shoulder tightened a bit. The more I looked straight into his eyes, the more I noticed the brewing fear in his green irises, as if he started seeing horns on my head. 

“I just don’t get it, Dad. Mom told me this book will make me happy because the heroine will end up happy! But why can’t I feel even a tiny satisfaction with the outcome?!” I bit my lips, trying to stop the traitorous whimper from coming out.

“Eron is a villain, and therefore he deserved his death. A beautiful masterpiece will show us the moral lesson of how goodness always prevails over the evil one,” he replied in a serious voice.

I did not answer because I still couldn’t understand his point. This time, no explanation could cure my sadness, and the extreme feeling of being cheated by whoever wrote this book.

My father noticed it. He remained silent for a moment as I nursed my heart. When he spoke again, his tone became gentler. “Listen, Lorienne, Ebram—our ancestor gave the Evergreen the most special gift. He made us the embodiment of every protagonist, which means no matter how tough our battles in life, at the end of the day we will have our own happy ending. With this gift comes a protection that whoever tries to harm and cause us ill along our journey will inevitably die and suffer at the end, just like those villains.” He wiped my wet cheeks.

“W-what?” My eyes widened.

“And he only asked us one thing in return, something we should follow no matter what happens,” he added with emphasis. “His Golden Rule is simple—thou shall not fall in love with the villains of the book.” He kissed my forehead as if his tender action could cure my malignant curiosity.

“D-dad—” my voice broke when I realized how my questions had offended my father. I felt like I’m caught doing something illegal. 

“Disobeying the Golden Rule is considered blasphemy against the saint of literature. Please do not taint our bloodline.”

Why did being genuine in what I wanted to ask looked like a heinous crime in my dad’s eyes?

He gave me an expectant look. Scared of my father’s wrath, I nodded.

As years went by, I tried my best to adhere to my father’s command. When I’ve reached fifteen, he gave me access to our most prized possession—the ancient Library of Evergreen. There, in the comforts of books, I journeyed in the captivating world of fiction. 

As my hands unfolded different pages, and my mind absorbed millions of words, came the dark secret I’ve tried keeping and ended up failing. 

I swallowed the forbidden fruit I should not have even touched in the first place. The tendrils of fear that clung to my father when I was just thirteen grew bigger because my actions brought him a painful realization.

I, Lorienne Evergreen, bound to follow the Golden Rule set by Ebram centuries ago, fell in love with the characters my bloodline abhorred with all their heart—the villains. Making me the first Evergreen who saw the villains in a different light since the Greatest Betrayal took place.