The Surviving Villain Draws Suspicion
I didn’t want to return to class. But I couldn’t stay bedridden in the infirmary forever either. The academy was a school, and schools took attendance. Even as an imperial protectee, no one was going to earn my credits for me. So today, I returned to my first class.
The problem was how I returned.
“Isn’t this a bit excessive?” I said in the hallway.
To my left was Aria. To my right was Rhea. Behind us were two imperial knights. A little farther back was Siella. And somewhere near the ceiling, Noel was likely watching. This wasn’t a class return—it was closer to a prisoner escort.
Rhea spoke. “You’re a protectee. It’s only natural.”
Aria added, “You’re still recovering, so of course.”
Siella said curtly, “Because you’re weak. Obviously.”
“That last one stings a little.”
“Then get stronger.”
A simple, brutal solution.
Every time we passed through the hallway, students’ gazes followed us. Some openly looked shocked, while others couldn’t hide their jealousy and curiosity. The infamous heir of a fallen ducal house walking between the princess and the saintess candidate—that alone was enough to fuel a day’s worth of rumors.
I kept my eyes straight ahead as much as possible. But even that was a problem. My reflection appeared in the window at the end of the corridor: the silver-haired princess on one side, the pure-white saintess candidate on the other, imperial knights behind me, and the red-haired knight’s daughter following with her sword drawn a short distance away. This looked less like protection and more like an escort to a public execution.
Meanwhile, the students’ reactions fell into three categories. First, those who feared me. Second, those who envied me. Third, those who interpreted the situation politically. The third group was the most troublesome.
The princess’s protection, the saintess candidate’s company, Lady Bayern’s surveillance—if these three overlapped on one person, the academy’s internal factions would naturally try to find meaning in it. Whether I wanted it or not, I had already become a focal point for multiple powers’ attention.
“Did Lord Diaren join the imperial faction?”
“No, he seems closer to the saintess candidate.”
“What’s Lady Bayern doing following him?”
“Maybe they’re all just keeping an eye on him?”
Yeah. I’d rather they think it was surveillance.
When we reached the classroom door, the inside fell silent in an instant. All eyes turned toward us at once, a mixture of curiosity, wariness, jealousy, and discontent. I took a breath.
Don’t stand out.
It was already a lost cause, but I had to try.
I stepped into the classroom. Another problem arose with the seating arrangement. Aria naturally tried to sit in the seat beside me. Rhea looked at the same spot. Siella stood with her arms crossed in the back.
I made a quick decision. “I’ll sit in the very back.”
Rhea asked, “Why?”
“It gives me a good view of the whole room.”
Aria said worriedly, “The back is near the windows. It’ll be drafty.”
Siella said, “If you’re thinking about ambushes, sitting with your back to the wall is correct.”
“Right?”
“But I’m sitting next to you.”
“Excuse me?”
Siella declared confidently, “For combat response purposes.”
Rhea spoke coldly, “There are imperial knights here.”
“I’m faster than knights drawing their swords inside a classroom.”
It wasn’t wrong.
Aria quietly interjected, “If I need to check Lord Kyle’s condition immediately, I should be beside him.”
Rhea was silent for a moment before saying, “Then Kyle sits in the middle, and we take the seats on either side.”
My opinion was once again irrelevant.
In the end, I sat in the center of the back row. Aria on my left, Rhea on my right. Siella placed her sheathed sword on her lap in the seat directly in front of me.
The entire classroom was wrapped in a strange tension. Students in the front rows kept glancing back while pretending to prepare their writing tools, and those in the back seemed to breathe carefully. One student sitting near me even pushed his desk forward half a span. I understood the feeling. I’d want to keep my distance too.
The professor was Graham Belt, in charge of combat strategy. The moment he stepped onto the podium, he looked our way and let out a short sigh.
“Today’s lecture is about priority judgment in combat situations.”
A strangely targeted topic.
Professor Graham wrote three things on the board:
Mission Objective
Ally Survival
Self-Survival
“What must be protected first on the battlefield?”
Several students answered.
“The mission.”
“The commander’s orders.”
“Preserving allied forces.”
Professor Graham nodded. “The correct answer depends on the situation. But there is one worst answer.”
His gaze turned to me.
“Completely abandoning self-survival.”
The classroom fell quiet. I tried to pretend I hadn’t heard, but the professor had no intention of letting it go.
“Lord Diaren.”
“Yes.”
“Your decision to save the saintess candidate in the Rose Garden was excellent. But the method was poor.”
All eyes focused on me. I answered slowly, “There was no other way.”
“The moment you think that, you’ll get hurt the same way next time.”
Professor Graham’s voice was strict, but not accusatory.
“In combat, sacrifice is the last resort. It must never become the first choice.”
Those words strangely struck my heart. I thought I had moved to survive. But as a result, I kept getting hurt in someone else’s place. Whether that was goodwill, a sense of responsibility from knowing the original story, or simply a reflexive action—I didn’t know myself.
Professor Graham tapped the board. “You have to survive to make the next decision. A dead person’s intentions don’t remain on the battlefield. No matter how right your choice was, if you die, the person who can continue that choice disappears.”
Those words hit the mark in an odd way. I knew the original story. That was why I sometimes thought I had to take risks. Because there were dangers only I knew about. But as Professor Graham said, if I died, that knowledge would disappear with me.
Aria’s hand moved slightly under the desk. She placed her fingertips on the back of my hand—a small, cautious touch.
“Did you hear that?” she whispered very softly. “Don’t get hurt.”
From the right, Rhea’s voice came. “The professor is right. A protectee must have the will to be protected.”
From the seat in front, Siella spoke quietly, “Don’t move with the intention of dying. Learn how not to die.”
I looked at the three of them in turn. Their methods were different. Aria through not letting go of my hand. Rhea through giving orders. Siella through thrusting a sword forward. But in the end, they were all saying the same thing.
Stay alive.
That felt unfamiliar. No one had ever said such words to Kyle Diaren in the original story. He was a villain who could die. To the readers, to the story, to the people at the academy. Yet now three people were saying the same thing in three different ways.
Don’t die.
That was when the light outside the window dimmed for a brief moment. I reflexively looked up. A crow was flying past the open window. It looked like an ordinary bird, but its wingbeats were strangely slow, as if it were half a beat behind time.
A single black feather slipped through the gap in the open window and landed on my desk.
Professor Graham’s words stopped. Rhea’s eyes grew cold. Siella immediately placed her hand on her sword hilt. Aria’s holy arts faintly glowed.
I stared at the feather. It hadn’t fallen naturally. The moment it touched the desk, it twitched as if alive. Black ink spread from the tip of the feather, transforming into a small sentence.
— Sever your relationships.
— Otherwise, they will crumble in the order you chose.
My heart sank. Relationships. That word had flown in the direction I hated most. The very thing I had tried to avoid. Yet I had already created them. Aria’s held hand, Rhea’s protective documents, Siella’s sword sheath, Noel’s records. All of them had now become weaknesses.
I instantly thought of the three. Aria. Rhea. Siella. I hoped the words “they will crumble in the order you chose” were merely a threat. But the Black Moon had already shown what they were capable of. They used symbols and relationships. They twisted people’s emotions in the most painful directions.
At that moment, a scream erupted from the back of the classroom. One of the Holy Church students had collapsed. The student who had told me to stay away from Aria just earlier. Lucas Berin.
His lips were stained black. A thin black pattern was spreading below his nape, as if someone had poured living ink beneath his skin.
Aria shot up from her seat. “Lord Lucas!”
Holy arts gathered at her fingertips. I reflexively grabbed her wrist.
“Don’t.”
Aria turned to me. “Lord Kyle?”
“That’s likely a curse that reacts to holy arts.”
Only after saying it did I realize I had spoken too much. Every gaze in the classroom locked onto me. Rhea’s eyes narrowed. Siella swallowed a quiet breath. Even Professor Graham looked at me.
But now wasn’t the time to hide anything. The black pattern on Lucas was rapidly climbing toward his jawline.
The academy’s first class had once again begun with the smell of blood.
And I knew—the third adjustment had already started.