The Villainous Senior Opens His Eyes

When I opened my eyes, I still thought it was a dream. My head throbbed as if someone had hammered a rusty nail into my skull. The moment I drew a breath, the sharp stench of stale liquor and old paper flooded my nose at the same time.

“……”

I stared at the ceiling for a long time. It was a ceiling I had never seen before—black wooden beams fitted together, with tarnished silver ornaments at every corner. On the walls hung a sword sheath, a training whip, and a cloak embroidered with an emblem I couldn’t recognize. This wasn’t my room. Of course it wasn’t. My room had never contained medieval-style furniture, a blade gleaming with a cold edge, or empty liquor bottles rolling across the floor. Above all, my room had never smelled like this—a nauseating mix of blood and medicinal herbs.

I tried to sit up.

“Ugh…!”

Pain tore through me beneath my ribs. My arms were covered in bruises, and dried blood crusted the back of my hand. A black glove was fitted over my right hand; when I flexed my fingers, the stiff leather resisted. This body wasn’t mine. It didn’t take long to realize that.

I staggered out of bed. Something crunched under my foot—a crumpled document. An empty liquor bottle rolled across the floor and clinked against the desk leg. The sound echoed strangely loud in the quiet room.

On the desk lay a training schedule revised in red ink, a torn disciplinary notice, and a student ID card. With trembling fingers, I picked up the ID.

My mind went completely blank.

Kyle Rowen. A name I knew all too well. How could I not? It belonged to the early-game villain of Holy Swordsman Academy, the game I had been obsessed with until last night. The senior who tormented his juniors, defied his professors, abused his authority as an assistant instructor, and ultimately took the blame for the academy’s downfall before being executed.

He had three nicknames: Trash Senior. Black Glove. The One Destined for Expulsion.

It looked like I had stepped in it properly this time.

“……Fuck.”

I turned toward the mirror beside the desk. A stranger stared back at me—disheveled black hair, a pale face, sharp slanted eyes. Even exhausted, he carried an arrogant air that seemed to look down on everyone. No one would mistake him for a hero. To put it bluntly, he looked like the kind of guy who could get punched by the protagonist within five minutes of his first appearance.

A sigh escaped me.

“Kyle Rowen.”

An unfamiliar voice came from my own mouth—low, hoarse, and irritable. The moment I heard it, certainty settled over me. I had possessed the body of the villainous senior from the game. And not just any villain. This was the bastard who bullied his juniors in the early stages, insulted the saintess candidate in the middle, and in the end took all the blame before having his head roll in the capital square.

The problem was that his execution wasn’t just a simple ending event. In the game, Kyle Rowen’s execution marked the beginning of the world-destruction route. The black guillotine. The cheering crowd. The collapse of the Holy Swordsman Academy. And beneath the execution ground, the awakening of the Maheun core.

I remembered that scene. I had seen it countless times. Every time I failed a route, the screen always returned there. Kyle Rowen died, and the world crumbled with him.

“……I’m screwed.”

I pressed a hand to my forehead. The headache grew worse. That was when I noticed the desk drawer was half-open. It bothered me for some reason. Almost in a trance, I pulled it open. Inside lay an envelope ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sealed with red wax. The academy’s emblem was stamped on the front.

I broke the seal.

The moment I read the first line, my fingertips went cold. The list of charges was long. The more I read, the more absurd it became. It was a meticulous, almost kind catalog of exactly how diligently Kyle Rowen had played the villain. None of it had been my doing. But now it was my responsibility.

My eyes stopped on the final sentence.

300 days until expulsion.

According to the original story, execution would follow in 365 days. Only a year remained.

“To survive……”

I collapsed into the chair. The original plotline flashed through my mind. Over the course of a year, Kyle Rowen would fall step by step. First he would lose his reputation, then his authority as an assistant instructor, and finally he would be blamed for an academy raid and a conspiracy by the church. In the process, the heroines would be ruined one by one.

Liah Belcross, daughter of the Sword Star. Forcing a sword style that didn’t suit her body, she would tear her mana circuit.

Seraphine Elua, the youngest professor in the Holy Department and former saintess candidate. Exploited by the church, she would overexert her divine power until cracks formed in her body, eventually becoming a sacrifice in a purification ritual.

Noah Arken, the genius mage junior. In her attempt to complete forbidden magic research, she would use her own body as a test subject. She would succeed, but never return to being human.

Mila Lupus, the beastman junior from the arena. Enduring discrimination and abuse, she would run away only to be torn apart by Maheun monsters in the forest outside the academy.

Evelyin Crow, the classmate from the Royal Shadow. Following orders until she could no ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠longer distinguish what she should protect from what she should kill. In the end, she would stand by and watch Kyle’s execution.

They were all heroines of the original story. And every one of them was tied to Kyle Rowen’s downfall.

“I have to stop it.”

My voice was calmer than I expected. I had to avoid expulsion. I had to avoid execution. And I had to block the death routes of every heroine. Only then could I live. Only then would this world not collapse.

The problem was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the method. What would happen if I suddenly started acting like a good person? The answer was obvious. The original plot would twist even faster. The people watching Kyle Rowen would move. The hidden mastermind who had yet to reveal themselves would notice my strange behavior. The execution could be moved forward.

I was Kyle Rowen. In this world, I was already branded as the villain. So I had to use that brand.

“I mustn’t let anyone see me doing good deeds.”

I set the crumpled expulsion notice down on the desk. I couldn’t openly help. I had to insult. I had to interfere. I had to steal. I had to pretend to destroy. As long as the result changed, it didn’t matter if I was cursed at, hated, or my reputation grew even worse. I hadn’t come here to be loved. I had come here to survive.

Thinking that way made it a little easier to breathe. Of course, it was ridiculous self-justification. If I had truly been the kind of person who moved for others, I wouldn’t have phrased it like this. But right now, I needed that much of an excuse. I had to live. I didn’t want to die. I never wanted to stand beneath that guillotine again, the one I had only watched from the other side of a screen.

That was when it happened.

Knock. Knock.

A knock sounded at the door. I lifted my head by reflex.

“Assistant Instructor Kyle Rowen.”

A stiff voice came from outside.

“Message from the Academic Affairs Office. You have been ordered to observe the Combat Department second-year practical training session.”

Combat Department second-years. Observation of the training grounds. The moment I heard those words, a scene from the original story flashed through my mind. It was the event where Liah Belcross, daughter of the Sword Star, made her first public training appearance. The students would cheer for her swordsmanship. The professors would praise her as a genius. And Kyle Rowen would publicly humiliate her right there.

In the original story, that scene existed to show the villainy of Kyle. But I knew the truth. That day, Liah’s body was already beginning to crack. The Belcross family’s sword style was perfect. It simply didn’t suit her. If she repeated it while her body was still growing, the mana circuits in her shoulders, elbows, and knees would tear first.

The original Kyle hadn’t known that and had humiliated her anyway. But I knew. So this time, I could use it differently.

I adjusted the black glove on my hand.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and the messenger from the Academic Affairs Office stepped inside cautiously. He watched my expression as he held out the document. His eyes were full of fear. Closer to disgust, actually. Just from that look, I could tell exactly how Kyle Rowen was regarded in this academy.

I took ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the document and deliberately twisted the corner of my mouth into a sneer.

“The Sword Star’s daughter, huh.”

The messenger flinched. I rose from my seat. My body still hurt, but it was bearable. At least I wouldn’t collapse right this moment. In the mirror, I still looked like a villain. Perfect. That face was exactly what I needed.

As I walked out the door, I muttered under my breath.

“The original humiliation scene… I guess I’ll have to reuse it.”

Sunlight poured in through the windows at the end of the corridor. The white towers of the Holy Swordsman Academy shone brilliantly. It was a beautiful sight. But to my eyes, every path looked like it led straight to the execution ground.

I crumpled the expulsion notice in my pocket once more.

300 days until expulsion.

365 days until execution.