How to Become a Villain (2)

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠answered lightly. "Through an introduction."

"An introduction, huh." The Doctor stroked his chin, pretending to think it over.

"Only a handful of people even know I'm holed up here right now."

He didn't seem particularly suspicious, though.

"Did Blackgrave send you for the experiments? Or maybe Houndtooth? Hmm, doesn't really matter either way."

The Doctor brushed it off casually and dove back into his preparations. Tied to the operating table, I let out a quiet sigh of relief. My hunch had been spot on—just some vague excuses would do the trick.

The Doctor was the type who cared less than a speck of dust about anything outside his research and experiments. Otherwise, how could a guy whose only Authority was tasting blood to analyze powers get slapped with an S-rank villain label?

Who sent me was a trivial detail to him. Especially since the odds of some random civilian stumbling into his brand-new secret lab were practically zero.

Speaking of which, Blackgrave and Houndtooth. They weren't quite Archvillain material, but they'd been infamous villains in my previous timeline. Creations of the Doctor's, too, apparently.

"Ugh."

A sharp sting hit without warning. The Doctor had snuck up and sliced my arm with a scalpel—slash. A bit of blood welled up and dripped to the floor.

"Ptooey."

He dabbed a finger in the beaded blood, licked it, and suddenly grimaced.

"Disgusting taste. Your sensitivity to Authorities is abysmal."

"Abysmal...?"

"This is worse than waste. Feels like I stuck my tongue in a toilet bowl. Horrific—I've never tasted anything like it in my life..."

Instead of answering, he just grumbled on, clearly displeased. My heart sank.

I'd known I had no talent, but hearing it from this so-called authority hit harder.

No. You're my only hope right ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠now...!

"So... does that mean the surgery's impossible...?" I asked carefully, not wanting to irk the madman.

He stopped dead and turned, eyes narrowing slightly.

"You. Seems you know what kind of man I am."

"I do. You're a scientist. The only one who's ever succeeded in creating artificial superhumans through surgery."

"Hah."

"I've known I had no talent for a while now. So... is the surgery impossible?"

"Impossible? This body of mine knows no such word—only ups and downs."

The Doctor grinned ear to ear, his ragged gums revealing grotesque metal implants.

"Good. I like you."

His fervor ramped up as he rummaged through his tools again.

"Most who get dragged into my lab are clueless lambs, trembling in fear. Doesn't sit right with me. But a bold volunteer like you? That's a different story."

Crazy bastard. I swallowed the curse.

Knowing full well, and still doing those experiments.

"Perfect timing. I had a new drug to test anyway. Just developed it recently—you're the first guinea pig."

He swirled a flask of translucent liquid.

"My gift for types like you, with near-zero Authority sensitivity. Be grateful—it boosts the odds several times over."

His cackling laughter echoed off the surgical room walls.

"But the pain amps up just as much. Brace yourself. Lose focus for a second, and shock'll kill you."

"How... touching."

"Ehehe! Save the thanks. Let's get started."

Click.

A dull button press, and the table slowly reclined. The metal felt colder than ever against my skin. The clinking tools sounded even icier. The Doctor's shadow flickered beyond the surgical lights.

Cold sweat trickled down my body. His surgeries were infamous for low survival rates already. Amp the pain several times over? I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tense. But no turning back now.

I glanced sideways. In the mirror, Yuha's severed head beamed at me. I blinked. She was gone.

"No anesthesia in my surgeries. Higher adrenaline levels make the drug react more stably."

His warning drifted like fog past my ears.

"And what Authority settles in? Even I can't predict it. Pray if you want something specific—that's up to the heavens. Assuming you survive, of course. Kehhehe..."

Didn't matter. I had one goal: endure, survive, claim the power.

No matter the hellish agony, I'd grit through. If it saved Yuha, I'd sell my soul gladly. Hell, maybe I already had—considering this regression.

All I could do was hope. Never repeat that hell again.

"Huh?"

My eyes caught something right in front. Thick needles aimed dead-center at both my pupils.

"Oh, forgot to mention."

The Doctor's voice was casual, like sharing a joke.

"Drug goes in through the eyes. Easier that way. And the reaction's... entertaining."

"What...?"

"No worries. Success means your sight returns. Now, then..."

"Wait, what the fu—Arrrgh!!"

Stab!

No time to brace—the needles plunged into my eyes. Agony like being dunked in acid engulfed me. Vision went black.

"Woojin! You're late! Get up!"

"Gah...!"

Yuha's voice struck like lightning. Hours? Who knew. On the table, I clawed back consciousness amid the chaos.

"Hahk, heuk...!"

My screams had shredded my throat—breathing rasped like scraping metal. I scanned wildly. Blood soaked everything, no cover. Skin riddled with ragged stitches, body stabbed with knife-like pain. Hellish scene, but not the hell. I'd seen that.

Now I knew. I was... still alive.

"Cough, cough...!"

Crossed arms checked: post-surgery limpness absent. Just foul urges and unnatural vigor.

"Ha, haha, hahahaha!"

Boisterous laughter, pure glee.

"Success! Another success! Uhahaha! I'm a genius! Haha!"

"Heuk, hahk..."

"Surgery's a smashing hit. Congrats—you're the superhuman you craved...!"

The Doctor clutched his forehead, giggling in disbelief.

"So, what Authority? Spill it. You'll know instinctively—superhumans always do!"

His laugh lingered in my ears.

Bzzz.

My pocket phone vibrated—impossible here. I pulled it out absently. The Doctor ignored it. His lab was jammed with jammers and security.

Screen showed a new message, despite no signal.

"...What?"

I stared blankly. Hypnosis. Two letters I'd never forget.

Marionette. The villain who'd dragged my past life to hell, gifted me a wretched end. Pure madness and evil incarnate, her power helped end the world as an Archvillain.

Hypnosis was her Authority.

Ting.

A girl enters a quiet convenience store. Innocent, kind-faced—hard to imagine in this sketchy neighborhood. She heads straight for the counter, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no browsing, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠staring right at the clerk's face. Lips move.

Handsome oppa.

"Uh... customer...?"

Perfect! Decided. Oppa, from today... you're mine!

Snap!

Her finger flicks with a whoosh. My pupils dull, light fading. I follow her humming out the store, willess. My consciousness watched from the abyss.

Hell began that day.

"Urgh..."

Chills wracked me. Cruel joke. All I wanted was power to save Yuha, change the future. And I get Marionette's Authority?

...No.

I rethought instantly. Not a joke—fate. A divine nudge to atone for past sins.

And something appetite-like gnawed my brain. Alien sensation. Urge to leap off the table, slaughter everything in sight. Reason teetered. Throat burned with thirst.

Stay like this, I'd shred anyone I met—no normal life possible.

Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz.

Got it. Artificial superhuman side effect. The mental affliction nine in ten patients suffered.

Showed like this, huh.

Kill others to sate the urge.

Easy read. Brutal. No wonder it was dubbed "villainization surgery."

Lucky I wasn't fully mad like Marionette. Or maybe I was, and it just looked that way.

Bzzz.

"Heh, body itching, eh?"

A kindly grandpa voice. Content anything but.

"Need something to sate the urge? Plenty of toys inside."

The Doctor beamed, oblivious to what loomed.

"Name sorted? With your looks, pick carefully..."

"Marionette."

"Pardon?"

I answered instantly. Side effects aside, surgery succeeded. Next step was obvious. Perfect target right here.

"That's my name."

Snap!

A small whoosh. Instinct knew the method, as he'd said.

"What the—?!"

Panicked yelp from the Doctor—out of character. Frozen mid-air, his pose was comical.

"Ma, manipulation Authority? Lucky you—super rare type. O-okay, got it, so release me..."

"..."

No reply. He sensed it, words tumbling.

"L-look! Kill me, and you won't last! Without my regular doses..."!

"I know. Body crumbles without 'em, right?"

Why villains spared his weak ass. Post-surgery villains obsessed with survival, hooked on his drugs. He exploited them, secured his spot, ran endless experiments—till world's end.

"Knew that and still... why...?"

He muttered, dazed.

"I'm fine. Saint'll heal me."

"Saint...? No way...!"

He pieced it, yelling.

"Yoram connection...? But too young..."

"Enrolling this year. General track, not hero."

"W-wait! I get the backup, but...!"

I raised a finger; he rushed on.

"Bolder than I thought. Impressive planning. But you don't know—the Saint, soon...!"

"It's fine."

I cut him off.

"She won't die. Shame for you all."

"Even that plan...? Who are you...?"

Shocked tone. I raised my right hand, no more talk.

"Doctor. Slit your throat with the scalpel. Suicide."

Snap! Quick farewell.

His trembling arm crawled snake-like. Thick fingers grabbed the sharp scalpel nearby, blade up, to his throat.

"N-no...!"

"Why panic? Your daily routine. Would've continued. Feels different when it's you, huh?"

Archvillain. S-rank Doctor.

No you, no Marionette. No puppeting me. No hesitation, no Yuha's death.

This? Your just deserts.

"Please, please...!"

Pleading fell flat. Pig squeals.

"Not dying here...! Still things to do... guk, kuh...!"

Slice.

Flesh parted faintly. Blood fountained, but his hand dug deeper.

"Kek, kehk..."

Pleas bubbled into foam, fading. Finally, grind—blade scraped bone. Thunderous crash as the bulk toppled.