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The game was rigged from the start.
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Mischa was born in Fersen to parents who were poor even by the local standards. As he grew it was quickly apparent that he showed no magical aptitude, and by virtue of being young he didn't have much else to offer to support his family. One could assume that these were the reasons that, when presented with the opportunity, his parents sold him for a lump sum of money. A cloaked man unceremoniously whisked the young boy away from his home (if you could call it that), carting him off to an unknown location. It was there that he was handed off to a group of people in clothing he'd never seen before and lead into a building larger than he thought possible.
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You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?
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These strangely dressed people seemed to be in the employ of the Council, though their existence was likely unknown to the general public. Mischa was one of many children brought under the control of these new proprietors, but over time their number dwindled until he was the only one left. It was only after his turn to be escorted out of his featureless stone room that he learned the ultimate goal of the underground group: implanting a Lacrima directly in one's body.
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Some cattle grow strong, others are taken by wolves.
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Before he could truly process what was happening Mischa had undergone an arduous, painful procedure. Compared to what came after, however, said pain was a mercy. His body burned as if his blood was boiling, and it may very well have been. He felt that he would crawl out of his skin at any moment. To those who carried out the procedure it seemed as if this was but another failure, all but confirmed by the fact that Mischa's cries abruptly went silent. But as luck would have it this was not the end of the road for young Mischa.
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Endure and survive.
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Just when all seemed lost Mischa felt the pain not only begin to fade, but soon after he felt better than ever. Onlookers watch with wide eyes as the boy's wounds began to close, his body slowly twitching back to life. Mischa had survived, his body accepting the Lacrima and using its power to recover. In lieu of a celebration, however, he was quickly bound in chains and transported to a new location.
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Do you like hurting other people?
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Even though he was still just a child (and one who had just undergone a major change, at that), Mischa was promptly shipped off to the Council proper. He was given a quick rundown of his situation that all boiled down to a very simple concept: Work or die. The boy was essentially an experimental soldier, and his superiors were quick to put him to use. After a shortened training period he was assigned to a small, covert team that specialized in carrying out black operations; if there was something the Council needed taken care of that couldn't be brought to the public eye it was likely that the newly mutated Mischa had a hand in it. He quickly learned that if he was going to live he would have to fight, and after nearly dying once he steeled his resolve and swore to push onward.
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Life is all about resolve. Outcome is secondary.
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Mischa's early years consisted entirely of carrying out dubious missions that the Council deemed a "necessary evil," which was a term that could sum up what his superiors thought of his very existence. His only brief respites at the time were the fleeting moments between assignments where he was allowed to rest, and even then his "home" was a custom cell in the Trench that was only barely more accommodating than the standard ones reserved for prisoners. As time went on, however, the higher-ups in the Council began to see that Mischa carried out his orders without much question, and as he continued to perform he was gradually given more independence. Presently he still resides in the Trench and has to make regular check-ins with the Council, but the state of his cell has been drastically improved (now resembling actual living quarters) and he's been granted permission to roam freely between operations. It's not exactly a life of freedom and opportunity, but compared to the alternative Mischa found himself counting his blessings.