How the Terminally Ill Villain Saves the Heroine (2)

I twisted the faucet open and scrubbed away the clotted blood. No matter how many times I rinsed my mouth, the revolting metallic taste clung stubbornly to the base of my tongue.

"Haa..."

The reflection in the mirror looked like a walking corpse. I slapped my cheeks hard, forcing my facial muscles into a rigid smile. Time to paste on that obnoxious grin again.

The moment I stepped into the hallway, the parasites who leeched off my family swarmed me.

"Young Duke! Did the evacuation go smoothly?!"

My legs were still trembling from vomiting blood moments earlier, but I clenched my jaw and slipped back into my usual arrogant shell.

"Don't make such a fuss. It makes you look pathetic."

At my icy tone, they shrank back, exchanging nervous glances.

"A-anyway, about that Cromwell girl! They say she dodged the explosion because you blasted her away with magic. What a lucky bitch."

"She was blocking my view, so I cleared her out of the way. Whether that bug lives or dies is none of my concern."

My stomach churned, but on the surface I was the perfect piece of trash.

"I'm returning to the dormitory. Don't follow."

I shook them off and strode down the corridor. A bone-deep chill that made my teeth chatter seeped from the very marrow of my bones.

At the same time.

Seria, having fled the pandemonium, gasped for breath as she scoured the empty hallway like a bloodhound. The footsteps that had been tracing his path halted before an old bathroom tucked in a corner of the old building.

A thick stench of blood leaked through the door's gap.

Creak—.

With trembling fingers she pushed the door open. Sticky blood clung to the drain and tiles. The brutal evidence of everything he had violently heaved up.

Seria sank to the floor, unable to look away from the stains.

The black magic that had roared toward her. Yet not one hair on her body had been harmed. The shockwave had simply pushed her back like a gentle cushion.

That meticulous control of mana. The reason he had forced it out even while enduring the recoil that made him vomit blood.

The all-night beatings at the training ground. The memories of being thrown as bait into a forest crawling with demonic beasts. After all that malicious torment, she had grasped the true essence of swordsmanship and awakened her mana core.

If every cruel act had been his careful arrangement to force her—who possessed nothing—to stand on her own two feet...

"Just what kind of hell have you been walking through all alone?"

Whatever had been propping up her mind collapsed in a heap. She picked up the blood-soaked handkerchief Demian had discarded in the corner. The scent that should have been repulsive instead made her heart convulse as though it were being ripped apart.

The next day.

The first official day of academy classes.

After swallowing a handful of painkillers and opening the door, every student who met my eyes immediately lowered their heads as though on cue.

I walked straight to Seria, who sat by the window in the very last row.

Sigh, she's my favorite character, but those eyes are seriously terrifying. Still, I'm relieved she's alive and safe.

While relief flooded my chest, I forced the corner of my mouth into a crooked sneer.

"Congratulations on surviving. Cleaning up your charred corpse yesterday would've been a real hassle."

I was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠already turning away when—

Grab—.

Seria's fingers seized the cuff of my uniform sleeve.

The instant I frowned and looked back, I doubted my own eyes.

"Thank you for the congratulations, Young Duke."

The murderous glare that once looked ready to tear me apart had vanished completely. In its place were pitch-black eyes, utterly drained of light, licking slowly and greedily across my face.

A smile bloomed on her lips.

"The grace you have granted me... I will never forget it. Not until the day I die."

Her gaze lingered on the edge of my sleeve. The faint bloodstain I hadn't managed to wipe away completely after vomiting blood in secret that morning.

Shit. She couldn't have noticed my condition, right? I can't let my favorite character see me like this—pathetic and broken!

I jerked my arm away in irritation.

Slap—!

The back of her hand swelled an angry red from the force, yet I brushed off my sleeve as though it were contaminated with filth.

"Have you lost your mind? Don't touch me so freely."

But Seria simply stared down at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her reddened hand in a daze.

"...I'm sorry. I forgot my place."

Her head bowed obediently. Her voice was strangely gentle, carrying neither anger nor resentment.

"If you understand, then stop hovering in front of me."

The moment I turned away coldly, as if she weren't even worth another word—

...What?

My feet stopped dead.

Yandere? The kind, resilient main heroine turned into a yandere... because of me?!

When I forced my stiff neck to turn and look back, Seria was still staring at me. Her right hand remained buried deep inside her skirt pocket.

"Class is beginning! Take your seats!"

The moment the professor entered, I practically fled to the front row and dropped into a seat. The back of my head burned. I didn't need to turn around to know exactly what kind of gaze was devouring me from behind.

Fuck... I think I'm really screwed.

"The core principle is the stabilization of the mana core."

The professor's lecture went in one ear and out the other. Burning pain rolled through my organs in waves, gnawed away by the curse. The painkillers had already lost all effect.

Ugh...

I clutched my chest beneath the desk. Biting down hard to endure the agony had split the inside of my mouth; blood seeped across my tongue.

Tremble. Tremble.

My right hand, pushed past its limit, began convulsing on its own. The instant I unconsciously squeezed it to crush the pain—

Crack.

The pen in my grip snapped like a dry twig. The broken pieces rolled beneath Morgan's desk beside me.

The bastard who had always looked at me with distaste kicked the pen and sneered.

"Your face looks like a corpse. Got some terminal illness or something?"

Snickers leaked out from the surrounding students.

The moment I opened my mouth to retort—

Woooong—!

An unbearably sharp killing intent slammed down on the entire classroom, stealing the breath from my lungs.

"Hiiik...?!"

Morgan, struck directly, went white as a sheet. Seria sat with her chin propped on her hand, staring at him. Pure murderous intent blazed in her eyes, promising to rip his throat out.

The entire class fell deathly silent beneath that murderous aura.

Wow, she's my favorite character but look at her go. I'm glad the original heroine is growing into a proper hero, but why the hell are my legs shaking so badly?

I picked up the pen with an arrogant sniff, but inside I prayed desperately that those sparks wouldn't fly in my direction.

The killing intent ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was several times thicker than yesterday.

So bowing her head this morning was just to lower my guard. If I'm not careful, I might wake ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up with my throat slit.

I renewed my resolve once more. I would never, ever catch the eye of that terrifying heroine again.

But right after class ended and I hurried out of the classroom, I didn't notice.

Seria quietly approached my now-empty desk, carefully picking up the broken pen stained with faint traces of blood.

"...You foolish person."

She clutched the shattered pen with both hands as though it were the most precious treasure in the world. Her lips, as she gazed at the seat I had vacated, twisted upward in a smile so eerie it raised goosebumps across the skin.

The moment Demian left the classroom, Morgan finally unfroze. Rage twisted his face as he shouted.

"Hey, Cromwell! What the hell was that look earlier? I just insulted that trash bastard a little and you blast me with killing intent?!"

He seemed ashamed that he hadn't even been able to breathe properly under her pressure.

But the instant he met her eyes as she slowly turned her head, his body began trembling again.

"Trash... bastard?"

Her voice was calm, yet the classroom temperature seemed to plunge below freezing in an instant.

"Say it again."

As she took one step closer, Morgan gasped and stumbled backward. Seria's fingertips were gently stroking the hilt of her sword.

"You know nothing about him, yet you dare flap that filthy mouth."

The terror of imminent decapitation hit him. Morgan screamed and bolted from the classroom. The remaining students shoved one another in their rush to escape.

In the now-silent room, Seria stared at the broken pen in her hand. The faint bloodstain on its shaft. She slowly rubbed her thumb across it.

Then she brought the blood-smeared finger to her lips.

"Ah..."

The taste of another person's blood on her tongue was so sweet it sent shivers down her spine. Far from repulsive, the sensation set her heart ablaze. An ecstasy so intense it made her lower abdomen throb with heat.

Wait for me, Demian.

The hellish villain's mask you willingly wore for my sake.

I will shatter it with my own hands and pull you out.

At the same time. The emergency staircase of the old building.

"Urgh—! Cough, hack!"

I was collapsed on the floor, vomiting blood. Every breath felt like my organs were melting; tears stung my eyes.

"Haa, haa... Fuck. Why did that bastard Morgan have to pick a fight..."

He had no idea how hard I was struggling just to maintain the story's probability.

Those eyes from the classroom earlier—glittering as if ready to tear a person apart—floated before me again.

No matter that she's the original protagonist, her aura is way too vicious. I nearly lost my own head instead of Morgan's.

With a trembling hand I wiped the blood from my mouth.

Tomorrow, I prayed, I could somehow slip by without catching that terrifying heroine's eye.

Never once imagining that this insane tangle of misunderstandings was twisting beyond all control.