Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death - Chapter 102

Chapter 102: Oh Blessed Civilization
Khamal blinked. The healer girl stopped mid-motion. Even the secretary, who seemed to be always quick with a snide remark, had nothing to say. The stablehand brothers stared at Malik, then at each other.

“…Uh.”

The broad-shouldered one muttered.

“That’s… fair.”

The wiry one swallowed.

“Yeah. Yeah, alright. You win that one.”

That was it. No one dared to ask for details.

“R-Right…”

Khamal cleared his throat as if shaking off the sudden chill in the air.

“Well. Anyway, the plan’s simple—we work from the inside, little by little, until one day, the people at the top look down and realize they’re standing on nothing.”

Malik nodded.

“Slow rot. I like it. But do you really believe in all this? That you can actually change anything?”

Khamal’s smile returned, but there was something sharp beneath it.

“I believe in the right people being in the right places at the right time. I believe in cracks spreading through the stone. I believe in… opportunities. And when they come, we’ll be the ones ready to push.”

A groan from the floor interrupted him.

The young master, face still swollen, raised a trembling hand.

“…Justice.”

Malik raised an eyebrow.

“What was that, noble boy?”

“Jushtish…”

He repeated, his busted lip making it worse.

The healer giggled.

“You sure you don’t want me to fix his tongue first?”

Malik shrugged.

“Don’t bother. It makes no difference. He barely made sense before I beat his face in.”

“Bah. Stop torturing the poor boy.”

Khamal waved a hand, and the priestess returned to healing him.

“Okay… Thanks for the introduction and all, but what’s this got to do with me? I’m just some guy who killed a bunch of bastards.”

Malik had his back straight, ready in case… action arose, but Khamal’s widening grin had him pause.

“You just said it. You massacred slavers!”

He tilted his head.

“I didn’t do it to be a—”

“The reason doesn’t matter, my friend! You still did it, and that deserves to be rewarded.”

“You didn’t read the report? I killed a slave too.”

“Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t. I don’t know. But I’m sure there was a reason for it.”

“You’re putting a lot of faith in me here.”

“I am… but eyes don’t lie. And yours look like they’ve been through Hell a hundred thousand times over.”

“…Wow. Thanks again, I guess.”

“Don’t mention it… But I do have to ask for a favor.”

Malik rolled his eyes, losing whatever appreciation his face once showed.

“Of course. My dumbass forgot that nothing was ever free around here.”

“No, no, no, it’s nothing like that.”

Khamal held up his hands.

“I know you Magi eventually go south to Ascend. All I ask is that, on your way there, keep an eye out for people like us. I’m sure we’re not the only ones trying to make a change. If you find them, help them out—even if it’s just a few coins. And when you’re done with whatever you’re after, come back here. Tell us who you saw and who our comrades are. It’ll motivate us to keep going. Become something anyone would be proud of. Even you.”

“…”

Malik was silent for a long moment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

He just couldn’t find a reply. Those words… Damn. They astonished him, catching him completely off guard. They were… pure? Maybe not the right word, but it was the closest he could get to whatever he was feeling.

“You…”

To everyone’s surprise, Malik suddenly stepped forward and pulled Khamal into a hug.

“You are a great man.”

Khamal blinked, now twice as surprised as his new friend just was.

Then, after a moment, he chuckled, patting Malik’s back.

“H-Heh… You’d see me blush if I wasn’t black.”

“I don’t wanna see that.”

“Hahaha! Me neither!”

As they let go, laughter filled the room, making everyone forget about the young master still groaning on the floor.

***

{Outside The Projection}

“Damn. I kinda like those guys.”

“Yeah, they got a real ‘stick it to the bastards’ energy.”

“Ragtag as hell, but they got soul.”

“You mean they got guts.”

“Even though those ‘bastards’ they’re against are most of us here, I can’t help but root for them.”

A sixth scoffed.

“You hear how that Khamal guy talked?”

“He’s got a silver tongue, better than most of our ambassadors.”

“Man’s playing chess while everyone else is fumbling with dominoes.”

“And that healer—she deserves my respect.”

“You just respect her ’cause she’s cute.”

“Listen, good business sense is attractive.”

They all turned to look at the one who said that, a mix of judgment and amusement flashing in their eyes.

“Shameless.”

***

{Inside The Projection}

Later, after they had the priestess heal Malik’s injuries and ate dinner, which was mostly just kebabs, Khamal led Malik to a small room tucked away in the hideout.

It had a bed, a shower, a toilet—everything he needed.

“Get some rest.”

Malik exhaled, looking around.

“Seriously… I don’t know how to even begin repaying you.”

Khamal shook his head.

“Don’t give back, my friend. Your… charity will only leave us both poorer.”

Malik snickered, shaking his head.

“Alright.”

As soon as Khamal left, his expression shifted. The ever-present frown on his face had melted away, and what replaced it was something close to childlike joy.

“Gotta be…”

He rushed into the bathroom, eyes scanning the setup.

“A bidet?!”

Humanity was truly magnificent!

He checked the bath’s water, and when he felt the warmth, he nearly shed a tear.

Relieving and bathing himself no longer became something he dreaded.

“…Oh, blessed civilization.”

***

{Outside The Projection}

While a comedy routine continued to unfold, at the front, Crimson, Huda, Safira, Layla, and Azeem had all their attention locked onto the projection.

They had just seen the most surprising thing since his Return By Death was revealed.

Malik, who stood there in the candlelight, looked… different.

Not like the battle-worn, tragic but unbreakable force he faced them as.

No, in that moment, when he saw that tiny, sacred convenience of civilization, he wasn’t Shaytan’s Devil, the Villain, the Executioner, the Butcher of Bastards.

He was just… a kid.

A kid who had been through Hell, seen things no human should ever have to see, done things no human should have to do. And yet, in that tiny, insignificant moment, he looked like someone who had never known hardship a day in his life.

“Like a child seeing the stars for the first time…”

Those words left Layla’s lips before she realized it.

“…And over a bath. A bath, of all things.”

Azeem chuckled.

“Hey, don’t underestimate the magic of a good bath. If I went through half the shit he did, I’d be crying over soap, too.”

“No, no, I get it. It just… it reminds you, doesn’t it?”

She exhaled.

“Back then… he looked like a man. He acted like a man. But he wasn’t one, not really. He was a kid. A kid who’s died a million times more than anyone should. And somehow, he still stood. Still laughed.”

There was a long silence after that, everyone lost in their own thoughts.

Then, a younger Magi rubbed his chin and turned toward Roya, the world’s ever-reliable source of information.

“So, uh… what’s the deal with these guys? Are they still alive? If they were a part of something that big… if Malik helped them back then… does their organization still exist? Or are they just another lost cause in a long line of them?”

There was a shifting of steps as nearly everyone else turned to Roya, waiting for an answer.

Even those who had been discussing Malik’s reaction leaned in slightly, curious.

She tapped her fingers against her arm before shaking her head.

“I don’t know… my men are still searching the records.”

Roya didn’t say anything after that.

Instead, she turned slightly, catching the eye of one of her people.

A silent nod was exchanged, a subtle gesture that did all the talking needed.

Noor watched the cloaked figure go before turning her attention back to the projection.

It seemed that she had nothing to add.

Zafar, meanwhile… was the only one who showed no reaction to what happened whatsoever.

He just stood there, still as a statue. His eyes weren’t anywhere—just staring aimlessly, like his soul had drifted somewhere far away.

Of all people, he was the one most worried about the inevitable “insurrection.” Courtesy of Huda. And the others. The “heroines.”

But right now, none of that mattered. Not compared to this.

Because after everything he had seen—every memory, every horror—he was sure of one thing.

Malik had lost his belief in humanity. He had given up on them, treating people the same way they had treated him his whole miserable life. Like dirt. Like something disposable. A tool.

But no.

These people… Khamal, especially. They helped him. For free. More or less.

No grand cause. No deep reason. Just because.

And Malik… he hugged him.

That was real. That wasn’t faked. That wasn’t calculated.

He still believed.

Humans weren’t all bad.

So why?

Why kill? Why betray? Why massacre?

What happened?

Or were they all just misunderstandings?

‘…If that’s true, then I… I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.’