I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist - Chapter 84

Chapter 84: Aftermath of Cattleya’s Kidnapping

“Then, who might you be?”

In the Cromwell mansion, Patrick Cromwell sat in his private office, his fingers intertwined as he studied the young man standing before him. The man bore the likeness of Leon Cromwell—aa disguise crafted by Ivan from Yvan’s face. Yet Patrick knew the figure in front of him was no Leon, nor was it Ivan.

Still, Patrick played along, adhering to the script Ivan had laid out. He remained patient—until now.

The imposter sighed, then reached up to tear away his false visage. Beneath the mask was a pale, grey-skinned face with crimson eyes with vertical slits. A demon.

It was Gorn.

“You don’t seem surprised.” Gorn tilted his head, genuinely taken aback by Patrick’s composure.

“Don’t underestimate me,” Patrick replied. “The moment you touched me, I felt it. And, for reasons unknown, you bear His Eminence’s Stigma…”

“Eminence?” Gorn’s expression shifted, his brows knitting together in confusion before realization dawned. “You must mean… Lord Astaroth?”

“Astaroth?” Patrick’s eyes widened momentarily. “Then, that man—he was truly Lord Iv—”

“Father!”

The office doors slammed open with a resounding bang, cutting Patrick’s words short. Standing in the doorway was Aaron. Behind him, Celine, Patrick’s wife, entered the room, accompanied by another demon—Gin. Patrick instantly recognized him as the same entity who had stood behind James earlier.

And then, from behind them, stepped a figure Patrick knew all too well.

Leon Cromwell—or rather, Ivan. But this time, there was no deception. Patrick could sense the presence of the real Ivan before him.

Without hesitation, Patrick rose from his chair and bowed deeply, pressing a hand to his chest. “Your Eminence.”

Ivan’s lips curved into a faint smile, the warmth of James’ joy lingering faintly in his expression. “Raise your head, Patrick. You have played your role admirably.”

The subtle note of satisfaction in Ivan’s voice was clear, though it carried an undercurrent of something… different. A remnant of the happiness James had recently experienced.

“Gin,” Ivan called.

“Yes, My Lord.” Gin replied promptly, stepping forward to present a familiar box. It was the very same one Patrick had handed over earlier, containing the three Holy Coins intended to secure Leon’s ransom.

If it was up to James alone, he would have rather kept the three Holy Coins selfishly but though still a despicable and greedy pirate, this new James seemed to view things with a broader perspective.

“Your Eminence, there is no need to return them. Please, keep the Holy Coins,” Patrick insisted, shaking his head firmly.

Ivan’s gaze remained steady, though a trace of amusement flickered in his eyes. “Holy Coins are extremely valuable—I know that much. The Starlight may have acted indifferent, but even for them, losing ten Holy Coins was a significant blow. Surely, the Cromwell House cannot fare much better with three. Am I wrong?” His eyes shifted to Celine Cromwell, as penetrating as ever.

Celine hesitated for only a moment before nodding, choosing honesty over pretense. “Indeed, Your Eminence. I apologize.”

While the Cromwell family was wealthy, three Holy Coins represented a significant strain on their current growth.

“Celine…” Patrick’s voice held a note of disappointment. Her admission stung; he wanted to gift the coins to Ivan, to repay him for all he had done—not just for their family but for their people. In his eyes, Ivan deserved far more than this token.

But Ivan cut through Patrick’s sentimentality with a chilling stare. “Do not look at your wife like that, Patrick Cromwell. I appreciate her honesty. You should listen to her. I have use for the Cromwell House, and I cannot have you fulfilling my needs if you’ve ruined yourselves.”

Patrick immediately knelt, placing a hand to his chest. “My apologies, Your Eminence…”

Though Ivan’s approach was driven by his ambitions, Patrick couldn’t help but appreciate it. Those ambitions, after all, aligned with their own—building a world free from the constant fear of being burned alive at the stake.

Gin stepped forward and handed the box of Holy Coins back to Celine.

“We are in your debt again, Your Eminence,” Celine said, bowing her head with sincere gratitude.

Aaron, standing off to the side, was on the verge of tears. “I—I was so scared, Milord, when I heard you’d been taken hostage…” He stuttered, sniffling into his sleeve.

Patrick grimaced rising to his feet, his face twisting in embarrassment. “Aaron, who do you think His Eminence is?”

“Indeed,” Gin intervened, his sharp gaze pinning Aaron in place. “Lord Astaroth being taken hostage by mere low-ranked demons? Impossible.”

“Watch your tongue, human,” Gorn growled as well to Aaron, his crimson eyes narrowing.

But Aaron wasn’t cowed. He shot both demons a glare. “You do realize that the low-ranked demons in question are yourselves, right? And yet you think you’re capable of standing beside His Eminence?”

Meanwhile Ivan ignored the bickering trio.

Astaroth, Ivan, and James.

A dull headache throbbed at the back of his mind.

There was a clear confusion there.

Truthfully, Ivan chose not to correct Gin and Gorn. After all, he was truly hosting a Devil. He could have clarified that it wasn’t Astaroth but another entity entirely—but that would only complicate things further. In the end, silence was simpler.

As for the Cromwell House, however, he intended to clear up their misunderstanding.

“I did take Cattleya Starlight hostage for the Holy Coins,” Ivan began. “I obtained what I wanted and released her. Killing that dog of the Holy Church was merely a personal whim.”

Patrick chuckled, though he tried to keep his delight subdued. “No, you did well, Your Eminence.”

It was evident, despite his efforts to appear neutral, that Patrick relished the news of the Holy Church’s hypocrisy being punished.

“I’ll agree with you on that one, human,” Gin added with a wicked laugh. The memory of Willias’ expression twisted in fear during his final moments was one he savored deeply.

“Secondly,” Ivan continued, “I am hosting a Devil. That shouldn’t come as a surprise to you.”

Patrick’s eyes widened slightly, though his voice betrayed awe rather than fear. “I had heard the rumors, but to think they were true… You are truly remarkable, Your Eminence.”

The notion of Ivan taming a Devil had long been dismissed as hyperbole, a tale spun by the Holy Church and neighboring nations to make him appear even more fearsome. Even within his own Legion, those unfamiliar with Ivan had treated the idea as an exaggeration. But now, Ivan had confirmed it outright.

Patrick, Celine, and Aaron stared at him with renewed reverence. Their admiration grew, bordering on outright worship. To them, Ivan’s existence transcended mortal limitations; he seemed more and more like a divine being incarnate sent by Seraphiel herself.

Meanwhile, Gin and Gorn exchanged merely glances. To them, Ivan’s admission was merely a statement of fact. Whether Ivan hosted a Devil or was possessed by one, it made little difference—they served him regardless.

All that mattered was the undeniable truth: within Ivan resided a Devil. And that truth bound them to his will.

“You are God, Milord! Truly, you are God!” Aaron blurted out, unable to contain himself.

Ivan grimaced. It was as if a new Ludomir was slowly emerging in Aaron. The thought made him a bit scared knowing vert well what the true Ludomir was capable of, but instead of addressing it, he steered the conversation in another direction.

“I now have Cattleya Starlight under my control,” Ivan said. “It won’t be long before I gain access to Isabel Asterion’s office.”

Once there, he would examine the records from the incident 50 years ago, hoping to uncover clues about the Vault’s location. Finding the Vault and recovering Seraphiel’s Relic remained his main goal.

“As expected of My Lord.” Aaron chuckled softly, a flicker of awe in his eyes. He was genuinely impressed by how easily Ivan had dealt with Cattleya, a figure who seemed untouchable due to her status as both a Starlight and an Asterion.

“Now,” Ivan continued, “let’s move to the next steps. Patrick, I need two individuals: one professor or staff member from Ocryphia and one student. Both must be strong. Ideally, orphans—people without family ties who won’t be missed or contacted.”

Patrick hesitated but eventually asked, “May I inquire as to the purpose, Your Eminence?”

Gin’s expression darkened immediately. “Do you dare question His orders?”

“Gin.” Ivan’s cold stare silenced him immediately.

Turning back to Patrick, Ivan explained, “For the staff member, I require a strong, capable male—sturdy and resilient. He will serve as a host for Gin, who will possess him and infiltrate Ocryphia Academy. Gin must remain undetected and fit seamlessly into their environment.”

Gin remained silent, though a faint hint of surprise flickered across his face. He had not been aware of this plan, but as always from now on, he would follow Ivan’s orders without question.

“As for the student,” Ivan continued, “this is for Gorn. I intend to transfer my role as ‘Leon Cromwell’ to him within the academy in the near future. The host must be a suitable vessel for Korn’s presence—a strong elite capable of enduring his possession. If you find someone outside Ocryphia who fits the requirements, report to me as well. I expect two names within a week.”

Patrick nodded with a respectful bow. “Understood, Your Eminence.”

Aaron, however, couldn’t hide his disappointment. “Does this mean you’re leaving Ocryphia, Milord?” His tone carried a trace of sadness; he clearly wanted to spend more time with his hero.

“Not yet,” Ivan replied with a faint smile. While he did intend to leave Ocryphia eventually, there was still much to accomplish there. For now, he was simply laying the groundwork for the future, ensuring that Gin and Gorn would remain embedded in the academy to monitor Travis and whatever pathetic alliances he might form in the coming years.

“Until then,” Ivan said, his gaze sweeping the room, “Gin and Gorn will remain here, at the mansion. I’ve erased their demonic signatures with my Stigma, so they shouldn’t draw unwanted attention. Assign them suitable roles that allow them to blend in with your people.”

“All who work here are ‘our’ people, Your Eminence,” Celine said with a warm smile. “There’s no need to worry.”

“Good,” Ivan said, nodding in approval. “I leave the details to you. I have other matters to attend to.”

With that, he turned and left the room.

Once alone, Ivan pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he stopped at a peculiar name.

The display read:

[Luna-Evelyn].