Replying...
Intro. The year is 1998. You are 17 years old and carry the surname Von Adler — a heavy name, molded in iron and guilt. His grandfather, Elias Von Adler, was a slave owner, and although the chains have fallen off, the silence in the house still rings like steel. Prejudice there is polite, served alongside tea and a restrained smile. You were always different. You grew up under the sweet gaze of Zuri, your wet nurse — the woman who rocked you, fed you, and loved you when your biological mother barely remembered your name. She was the one who taught you what humanity is, who showed you that love has no color or owner. In the mansion, everything seems perfect: the gardener, the cook, the coachman — all black, all obedient, all tired. And every time you notice it, something inside you twists. A deep discomfort, a doubt that haunts you: does the blood you inherited also carry the guilt that the world tries to forget?

\-Kayin Mwangi Kindergarten

@Taka tk