Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death - Chapter 246

Chapter 246: An Al-Faris!
***

{Outside The Projection}

The crowd practically facepalmed themselves into the afterlife.

Some nearly collapsed from secondhand embarrassment.

Hell, if the Fam Iblis itself had hands, it would’ve smacked its own forehead, cracked the crust open, and swallowed them whole just to avoid watching what came next.

And poor Huda—future Huda, standing right there in front of them all with her arms stiff at her sides—looked like someone had just set her dignity on fire.

Her face wasn’t just a bright red. No. She managed to exceed all that came before her.

The girl seemed almost to glow, a cute little shining gemstone.

She had a thousand-yard stare, living through a disaster in high-definition—her disaster—and she knew it. Knew it was coming. Had known since the beginning that this bastard of a projection was going to show this moment.

But knowing something was going to be embarrassing and then watching it unfold in front of an entire crowd of people who could all see it too? An entire planet? Whole different type of suffering.

There it was. On full display. The past being force-fed to the present, and she stood there, in the middle of it—younger Huda—sprinting at Malik, throwing her whole body at him, a human cannonball, sobbing into his chest like it was the most dramatic reunion in the history of anything ever. Laughing and crying and calling him “the worst,” while hitting his chest.

It was soft. It was messy. It was… real. But not only that…

It seemed that the guards weren’t the only ones who were “cliché.”

Malik didn’t seem to mind, however, not at all.

There he stood, stiff as a pole, awkwardly patting her back like someone trying to console a crying cactus, forgetting how to be human.

“…This is cruel.”

Huda muttered under her breath, not even pretending to be fine or unfazed.

Everyone around her stayed dead quiet. Not a single “aww” was heard, not even a pity laugh to help with the hall’s currently dead mood.

They would not repeat the last time.

Yeah. That would be the last time anybody laughed while watching the projection.

That had become an unspoken law. Something they all internally promised to adhere to. Not even if someone turned into a literal cloud of stink… which wasn’t all that funny for someone older than ten, but yes, the meaning didn’t change.

They would not laugh… but for how long?

Well, this was humanity, and lessons never did stick forever.

Still, the awkwardness? It was… palpable.

Seeing him like this? Quiet. Hugging someone?

It messed with their heads. It was too normal. New.

The whiplash was heavy. A switch-up that had everybody’s jaws fall to the ground.

And just when the crowd thought it couldn’t get more uncomfortable, he showed up again.

Cyrus.

The Former Sultan.

The walking enigma.

The madman was in midair, spinning slowly, muttering to himself.

He was smiling so wide it almost split his face in two. Laughing like a deranged psycho. If not for his incredible looks, there was no doubt the man wouldn’t be approachable, ever.

The crowd couldn’t put a finger on the man.

He wasn’t exactly doing anything to intimidate; he was just being himself.

Perhaps that was why looking at him made their skin prickly.

Because no one—not one person—really understood what Cyrus was.

He talked like a genius but acted like a child on fire with a speech impediment. He floated, crackled, and buzzed with Aether but never revealed his cards, not even his element. He was incredibly accurate but moved randomly, or perhaps it’d be more ‘accurate’ to call his movement unpredictable.

And worst of all?

He was happy. Excited. When things went wrong.

Malik being there risked ruining every lie he fed Huda.

But he didn’t seem to care, not at all; rather, he found this twist “incredible.” Even “interesting.”

He said he felt something change in Malik.

Right, without even knowing a single thing about it, he had figured out that Malik had an advantage like Return By Death.

None of his words felt like actual praise.

It felt like he was admiring a meteor on its way down to crash and burn.

No one said it out loud, but every soul there felt it:

Cyrus was a question, and the answer was probably better left unknown.

***

{Inside The Projection}

Malik blinked and slowly nodded his head.

It might not seem like it, but this was his being surprised.

You could’ve hit him with a boulder and gotten less of a reaction.

She had just… accepted it. No suspicion at all.

Was she really that naive? That trusting?

He stared at her a moment longer.

Huda looked down, wringing her hands.

“I’m sorry you… had to see my uncle.”

Her words were soft, as if she were embarrassed.

“He’s always been like that.”

Malik tilted his head.

“Like what?”

“You know. Weird.”

He kept staring, and Huda sighed.

“Okay, really weird. Talks to himself. Can’t say one sentence without interrupting himself a million times. It wasn’t so bad before, but he’s getting worse each day. You know, he even makes the royal cooks cry. Once burned a field of wheat because they told him a joke he didn’t like.”

“…The wheat.”

“Yeah.”

He exhaled.

“…Right.”

She gave him a weak smile.

“I’m so, so, so, so glad you came, though.”

“…”

He didn’t respond.

“I mean it.”

Giving no response, he looked back at Cyrus.

“Big brother!”

Huda pulled on his wrist, grabbing his attention like a neglected daughter.

Her eyes were shiny, her face flushed from all that crying and grinning and panicking.

“So? What do you think?”

She asked, head raised, cheeks pink.

“Didn’t think I’d grow up this strong, did you? I’m an Al-Faris! That’s the second sub-rank, you know! You were carrying me around like I was some beautiful pillow, but now I can do that to you!”

“…”

Malik didn’t say anything, only looked at her.

“Oh! Right, of course! You’re an Al-Noor, right? A first sub-rank? My rank is the one after that!”

She seemed to think that he didn’t know much about the Divine.

Malik, again, didn’t say anything to correct her; he only grunted.

“My uncle says that I’m a prodigy! No one my age reached this rank so fast!”

He glanced at Cyrus again, who was now barely holding back his laughter.

She pouted instantly, jabbing a finger at his chest.

“Pay attention to me! Stop looking at him!”

He raised an eyebrow, still not talking.

“I’m not little anymore, okay?”

She squared her shoulders, her back straightening, face all full of pride.

“I’m an Al-Faris now!”