Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death - Chapter 117

Chapter 117: Welcome To The Real World II
The rest of the mission wrapped up as cleanly as it could.

The priest wasted no time heading off to their local Istgah Faraja. Not long after, officers arrived, scooped up the unconscious kids, and hauled the last man standing off to rot in the dungeon.

Layla barely said a word the whole time.

Her face was pale, eyes distant. She wasn’t… there—not really.

Malik tried talking to her, grounding her, but she barely reacted. Like the whole thing had drained something out of her.

Ignoring that for now, Malik returned to the priest, helping out here and there.

When it was all finally over, they made their way back to the orphanage, silent.

The moment they stepped inside, Huda rushed to greet them.

Her face was full of worry, but she forced a smile.

“Y-You’re back! How did it go?”

Malik shrugged.

“Handled. The fuckers that kidnapped them are dealt with. The kids will be back after they’re healed.”

She looked at him, then at Layla, then at the priest, before finally asking:

“Were they all…?”

Malik shook his head.

“Only two. The last one was sent to the dungeon. A blonde.”

The second that word left his mouth, something in the little girl’s face shifted.

Her body stiffened, and before anyone could react, she suddenly lunged straight behind the still disillusioned Layla.

In the blink of an eye, her body shifted, warping, stretching—not as drastically as the ones before, but just enough to show her true appearance.

Her hand darted into her sleeve, and when she pulled it out, a small dagger was pressed against Layla’s throat.

“If you want her alive…”

Huda snarled, her voice losing all warmth.

“Have them release him. Now.”

“W-What are you doing?!”

Layla stammered, snapping out of it, panic finally hitting her.

Malik, meanwhile, just sighed and glanced at the priest.

“You knew?”

The priest looked genuinely disturbed.

“She… she was brought here two months ago… I swear, I didn’t know.”

Malik nodded, then turned his attention back to the woman.

“So, out of everyone in this village, you thought I’d be the easiest to fool? Just ’cause my clothes are a little torn up? …I just didn’t wanna waste money on a new set, you know.”

Huda pressed the blade closer to Layla’s throat.

“Shut up and do as I say!”

He sighed, barely reigning in his anger, and stepped closer.

“Answer my question first! DID I LOOK THAT EASY TO YOU?!”

Her breath hitched, as did everyone else’s.

They had never seen Malik this angry before, and it terrified them.

Their bodies couldn’t stop trembling, and Huda was no exception, her grip on the dagger faltering for just a second.

“I—I chose you because—because you looked like you could help!”

She barely stammered those words out, eyes darting around like a cornered rat.

“Because…”

Malik blinked.

“What?”

She swallowed hard.

“You—you looked like the kind of person who could handle himself!”

His eyes narrowed.

“Isn’t that the opposite of what you want? Why pick someone strong?”

Her lips trembled, but then her expression twisted into something uglier, something full of regret—not for what she did, but for failing to pull it off.

“…We only planned to take a few, just enough to keep us going, but then we realized—no one cared about them. Not really. They were just mouths to feed. So why not take them all?”

Malik’s frown deepened.

“All?”

She nodded, her fingers digging into Layla’s shoulder.

“I thought—I thought if we could trick you into luring the priest there, then—then, when he let his guard down…”

Her free hand mimed a quick slash across the throat.

“So you got greedy, huh? Too bad~.”

At his teasing, something in her finally snapped. Her face twisted with rage, and she screamed:

“IT’S ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!”

The dagger pressed even closer to Layla’s neck, a thin line of red beading where the blade kissed skin.

“Why the Hell would you go so far for someone you don’t even know?! He’s only giving you twelve silver coins! Twelve! That’s nothing! Look—if you help me out, I’ll give you half the profit! How about that?!”

Malik paused, held back a snicker, ignored her offer, and looked at Layla.

“You good?”

“I-I think…”

Her reply came in a tremble. She was clearly shaken, but her thoughts seemed to have cleared up.

That was enough for him.

Ticked off, Huda had the dagger spill more blood, cutting a deeper wound.

“If you won’t cooperate then shut up!”

Malik sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Okay, okay, let’s calm down.”

He raised his hands in surrender, his stance loose and unthreatening.

Then, ever so casually, he stepped towards the orphanage doors.

Slow. A step. Then another.

“That’s better.”

Huda followed, dragging Layla with her.

She was so focused on Malik, so determined to keep him in her sights, that she didn’t notice Layla’s right hand inching toward her own.

“Cursed touch.”

Then, just as that chant resounded, Huda’s hand… withered?

Right… Just before their eyes, life drained from it.

Her skin tightened and shriveled as if years had passed in an instant.

In turn, her grip failed, her fingers spasming, leaving the dagger to clatter to the ground.

“What—?!”

Before Huda could even process what had happened, Layla snapped her head back, slamming it into her face—right on the nose—with a sharp crack.

A yelp of pain. A stumble. And that was all Layla needed to twist away from her grasp.

Malik didn’t waste the opportunity.

With the same casual ease as swatting a fly, he stepped forward and backhanded Huda straight across the face.

The impact sent her crumpling to the ground, out cold before she even hit the floor.

…Silence.

Malik turned to Layla, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“How’s this for adventure?”

She let out a short, bitter chuckle, still catching her breath.

“It… it really wasn’t what I had in mind.”

He raised both his hands, spreading them wide to his left and right.

“Then welcome to the real world.”