The Novel’s Antagonist: I walk the path of a Villain - Chapter 83

Chapter 83: Her… again

“What… W-what have I done?” stammered a young man, his bloodied white hair clinging to his forehead. His trembling hand gripped a crimson-stained sword, his wide purple eyes reflecting the carnage around him.

“No, no, no, no!” he repeated, his voice cracking as reality slammed into him like a brick to the face.

The scene before him could only be described as carnage.

Blood soaked every surface, pooling on the floor, dripping from the splintered wood of broken furniture. It wasn’t just a massacre; it was carnage incarnate.

At the heart of it all, seated amidst the massacre with unnerving composure, was a woman. Her pink hair fell in soft waves, contrasting sharply with the golden glow of her eyes. She sipped crimson wine from a glass, a saccharine smile tugging at her lips.

She looked otherworldly. A goddess, perhaps. No mere mortal could exude such beauty.

“This… This is your fault!” Elyon roared, his voice trembling with rage as he turned to the woman.

Before she could respond, he closed the distance in a blur of movement. In an instant, her body slammed against the tavern wall with such force the entire structure quivered.

“Ah… That hurt,” she drawled, her voice dripping with amusement. A grin spread across her bloodied lips as her slender fingers trailed up his arm and onto his chest, her touch deliberate, taunting. “But, oh, haven’t you noticed? I love the pain,” she whispered, her golden eyes glinting with twisted delight.

She licked the blood from her lips, laughing softly, her voice echoing in the ruined tavern.

“What did you do to me?!” Elyon bellowed, his fury overshadowing the enticing cadence of her voice.

“Me?” she said with a giggle. “Oh, Elyon, I didn’t do a thing. Deep down, you already know that.”

“Liar!” he growled, hurling her aside with brute force.

Her body crashed into a wooden table, the impact snapping it clean in half. “Argh~!”

She let out a breathy moan, her lips curling into a grin as she writhed on the ground. “Mmm, now that was good~,” she purred, her voice dripping with both satisfaction and provocation.

“What came over me…?” Elyon muttered, his gaze falling to the countless corpses littering the floor. His chest tightened painfully.

He had broken one of the sacred promises he’d made with his brothers—never to harm the innocent.

“…Well, aren’t you adorable,” the woman’s voice cut through his turmoil. He turned to find her pulling herself up, blood trailing down her lips. She leaned against a broken table for support, still smiling that maddening grin. “You’re wondering why you did all this… when the answer is staring you right in the face.”

Her steps were slow, deliberate, as she closed the distance between them.

Elyon’s sharp gaze met hers, unwavering despite the storm raging inside him.

“Jealousy,” she whispered, her grin widening. “To think the ever-dense Elyon would get this jealous… just because a few men flirted with me~.” She giggled, now standing directly in front of him. Her slender hand reached up, cupping his face.

“No matter how much you try to deny it, Elyon,” she purred, her voice dripping with sweet venom, “you’ve fallen for yours truly. And damn, how deep you fell!” Her laughter echoed through the blood-soaked room.

Elyon froze, his mind reeling.

At this moment, denial felt futile. He had always prided himself on being composed, logical, and steadfast in his convictions. But when it came to her, everything unraveled.

From the very first moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d felt it—a connection he couldn’t explain.

It was as though, she was a part of him.

No one had ever frustrated, infuriated, or irritated him as much as she did. And yet…

She was weak. Too weak, in fact. Even one of the drunken fools from before the massacre could’ve overpowered her without breaking a sweat. She was utterly defenseless.

And yet…

He couldn’t kill her.

No matter how much he wanted to sever this inexplicable tie, no matter how much she drove him to the brink of madness—he couldn’t do it.

Because every time he tried, there was this feeling in his chest.

Something he couldn’t ignore. Something he couldn’t deny.

BAM!

“Argh~!” Diana let out a gasp, her expression twisting into something unnervingly lewd as she hung him so tightly as though her life depended on it, even after he’d driven his fist into her abdomen.

But even that punch—like all the others he’d ever thrown at her—was barely a fraction of his true strength.

The mere thought of actually hurting her felt like an unbreakable chain, binding his will.

He was utterly powerless when it came to her.

She had become, without a doubt, his greatest weakness.

“What are you, Diana?” Lyon muttered, shutting his eyes tightly, trying to comprehend the whirlwind of emotions that had taken control of him.

He didn’t even understand himself.

The moment those drunkards had tried to harass her—the moment one of them dared to lay a hand on her—something inside him snapped.

Rage.

It wasn’t just anger. No, this was something far deeper, far darker, and far more consuming.

He had lost it.

Before he knew what he was doing…

They were dead. Every last one of them.

“I am…” Diana’s voice was soft yet chilling as she leaned closer, her lips curling into a sinister smile. “The one thing you can never replace, Lyon~.”

….

….

“Haa!” Ryan gasped as his eyes shot open.

‘Where… where am I? What just happened?’

“You’re awake…” a soft voice spoke. He turned to see Selena’s concerned expression.

“…Let me guess. I passed out?” he asked flatly.

“…No,” she replied hesitantly.

“…Huh?” He raised an eyebrow, his confusion evident.

“…I…” She made that cute two-finger gesture before continuing, “I knocked you out.”

At this point, he wasn’t even surprised.

“…Selena. I want to trust you… I just hope I won’t regret it one day,” he said, closing his eyes with a sigh.

“…You won’t,” she finally replied, her voice firm yet gentle.

Before he could process her words, he felt a soft, wet sensation on his lips.