A Villain's Will to Survive

Chapter 256: Rest (1)

“… Argk!” Epherene gasped awake, flinching as her eyes flew open and quickly scanning her surroundings.

It was the office of Head Professor Deculein, high on the 77th floor of the Mage Tower—a room of perfect order, immaculate and spotless, where not a single particle of dust dared settle.

“What just happened?”

I was in the Imperial Palace—with Deculein, Adrienne, and Ihelm—in some weird white room, Epherene thought.

“… Hmm.”

Somehow, it felt oddly familiar—and yet, there was something undeniably familiar about how it was all playing out.

“Was it a dream?” Epherene muttered, pressing her hands against her cheeks.

At that moment, Epherene felt someone’s eyes on her. Of course, it was Deculein, watching her with that same look of unimpressed disdain.

“Wipe your drool,” Deculein said.

“… Huh?”

“Not even the sense to grab what spills.”

“Crab? That seafood, the sideways little thing? They were pretty tasty.”

“… Should I just kill her.”

Epherene blinked, confusion tightening across her brow at Deculein’s reaction, unsure what to make of the look he gave her.

And…

Wait, did I regress again?

Epherene checked the calendar, but the date remained unchanged. Yesterday had come and gone. Today was just today.

“Then it must be just a dream…” Epherene muttered, turning back toward Deculein, whose brow furrowed. “Professor, I dreamed of going to an event.”

“Dream?”

“Yes. I dreamed we were at the event, but everything around us was a white space. Adrienne was there, Ihelmet too, you, Professor, and me. Then you started saying something about a death variable or something? You kept repeating it, and then I woke up.

“What’s a death variable? Did you come up with some new theory or something?” Epherene said, letting out a big yawn as she pulled out a pocket watch from her belt, its hands gleaming and flickering with sapphire light.

Deculein looked at Epherene for some time, then rose from his seat, pulled on his coat, and gripped his staff with one hand.

“Where are you going, Professor?”

Deculein offered no reply to Epherene’s question, then walked out of the office, leaving only the echo of his footsteps behind.

Bang—!

The door stood closed.

“What’s with him? Why’s he walking away like that? It’s not like this is my first time dozing off… Yawwwn—” Epherene muttered, narrowing her eyes.

But for some reason, I’m feeling a bit tired. It’s as if the mana inside me has thinned.

“Oh, right. I’ve got a lecture to go to today too,” Epherene muttered as her schedule flashed through her mind.

Of all the courses, Epherene had chosen tax accounting, and with the money she’d been making lately, taxes and forms had become her newest headache.

“I should get some sleep there. No, I mean, I should listen to the lecture,” Epherene muttered, shoving her textbooks and pens into her backpack as she pushed herself forward.

***

“Precognition, that’s what it is,” Rohakan said.

From the moment I left the office, I went straight to Rohakan’s vineyard, where I asked him to request Epherene’s diagnosis today.

“Is it the same power that belongs to you?” I asked.

“So it would seem. There was a reason I wanted to take that child as my protégé.”

“… I see.”

After all, Epherene was destined to become the future’s archmage—perhaps a mystery like this was inevitable.

“So then, what is it you intend to do?” Rohakan asked.

“I intend to look deeper into the event, as Epherene has already given me a hint.”

That the event should be surrounded by a death variable, and that I would be in the company of Ihelmet—no, Ihelm—and Adrienne, such foreknowledge alone was more than enough; it was already a massive hint.

“… But Sophien is the one I can’t stop worrying about. I never know what she’s thinking or what she’ll do. And when her mind turns, nothing after that is predictable.”

I nodded and resumed writing on the waiting surface of the magic paper.

“And that—what is it?” Rohakan asked, a flicker of curiosity passing through his eyes.

“It’s the final exam for my advanced lecture,” I replied. “It’s been postponed for various reasons, but even so, there must be a test to bring their theories together and decide who passes and who does not.”

“Would you let an old man take a look?”

“Of course,” I replied, handing Rohakan ten sheets of magic paper—each one layered with a hundred pages, a thousand in all.

“Oh ho. That’s quite a lot,” Rohakan said, flipping through the layered magic paper with each magic circle written across its sheets. “But you know, Deculein.”

“What is it?”

“Every now and then, I’d see Yulie wandering these vineyards.”

What he said was unexpected enough to leave me speechless, and for a moment, I couldn’t find anything to say.

“Are you referring to Knight Yulie?”

“Yes. I suppose she must believe there’s some clue—or evidence of you—somewhere in the vineyard.”

“… I see.”

Yulie, the woman beloved by Deculein. But now, I found myself unable to tell whether it was Deculein who loved her, or if, in some imperceptible way, that love had found its way into Kim Woo-Jin as well. The boundary between them had grown faint, almost indistinguishable.

“Do you love that woman so deeply?”

“Yes,” I replied without a moment’s hesitation. “Though even I have no way of knowing how deep it goes.”

“Even if she’s the one who brings you down?”

Rohakan’s eyes, once reading the magic paper, gradually rose to meet mine in silence, while the quiet vineyard around us breathed a subtle sweetness that lingered faintly at the tip of my nose.

“… Yulie could never be the one to bring me down,” I replied with a small smile, nodding. “For her to survive, she must hold on to her hatred. But Yulie’s heart is too gentle; if she were to bring me down, she would let that hatred go.”

Then, Rohakan turned his eyes back to the magic paper, its parchment steeped in magical theory.

“I will not fall, and Yulie will continue to survive.”

“Is it because of that curse?”

“Yes. Should her heart burn too brightly, the curse will melt and seep free. But if her heart turns cold as stone, then she will survive.”

“Have you chosen to submit to fate?”

“I will find the answer. But until that time comes, I will let Yulie go on hating me.”

“And what of afterward?” Rohakan asked, his eyes never leaving the lines of theory. “When the answer is yours, what will you do then?”

I sat in silence, considering whether the conclusion of this relationship had been determined from the very beginning, but it wasn’t fate, nor was it destiny.

“… The engagement will be broken.”

In every scenario, Deculein and Yulie were never meant to be.

Perhaps, instinctively, even Deculein’s nature has always known. I love Yulie—but never once did I allow myself to picture a world where we were together, I thought.

“Why is that?”

“If I must name a reason… it’s that my time remaining is growing short, and I’ve come, more and more, to sense it in myself,” I replied.

The future Epherene foresaw—witnessing my coming death in a world where I had already died a hundred, a thousand times over—though perhaps only that one death would ever be real.

“Now, I hope she will come to hate me, with a hatred equal to the love I hold for her,” I said.

A love—strange in its melding of Deculein’s consuming obsession and Kim Woo-Jin’s gentle tenderness—was love in its purest and most complete form.

“So that she will not feel her heart ache when the time comes for me to leave.”

“… Well, are you really the Deculein I know?” Rohakan said, his face creasing into a deep scowl.

I turned toward Rohakan.

“The Deculein I knew would have declared, without hesitation, that he could overcome it all.”

“… I cannot say. But here, in this vineyard, I feel more like myself than anywhere else,” I replied.

Mist rolled through the vineyard—a space between worlds, crafted by Rohakan, neither life nor death but a crossing of timelines. And in that quiet air, something gentle unwound the defenses around my mental strength, until, without even realizing it, I released them myself. Therefore, it seemed that the person I had become now resembled Kim Woo-Jin more than Deculein.

“But maybe, once I step beyond this vineyard, my heart won’t be the same.”

“… Is that so,” Rohakan said, returning the magic theory to me. “Either way, the Addicts on the Floating Island will eat this up.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

I filed the magic paper among the other documents.

“I’m counting on you to look after Sophien. No matter what the Empress’s Event is about, don’t back down. You haven’t forgotten what we promised, have you?” Rohakan said, handing me a few clusters of grapes.

“… I am Deculein,” I replied, pushing myself to my feet. “I will not back down—no matter what. I just make certain I have the methods to win—every time.”

Rohakan offered a small smile at my words.

***

… At the Flower of the Pig, the Empire’s most celebrated restaurant, Epherene dined, savoring a plate of Roahawk.

“Nom, nom—Nom, nom—”

Across the table sat Soliet—her newest friend from core subjects—and Julia, her oldest friend. Julia, daughter of the butcher, sparkled like a walking jewelry stand, with her earrings, necklaces, bracelets, and even her robe and shoes gleaming with jewels, along with a staff by her side.

Looks like the Flower of the Pig has been making bank lately, and she’s blowing it like it’s nothing, Epherene thought.

As Epherene licked her lips enviously, Soliet picked up a slice of meat and placed it between her lips.

“Well? Do you like it?” Epherene asked.

“Not bad,” Soliet replied, nodding.

“You call this not bad?”

Soliet—no, Empress Sophien herself—was attending the same tax accounting lecture as Epherene.

Of course, I hadn’t planned to take the same class with her, but the coincidence intrigued me, so I approached—just once, since it piqued my interest… And this one—the moment I opened my mouth, came running up like a puppy, already asking to grab a bite together…

“… Alright. It’s delicious.”

“Right? I told you it was delicious—of course it is… Oh?!” Epherene said, her eyes flying wide as she raised a finger and pointed at someone ahead.

“What is it, Ephie?” Julia said, turning her head in the direction of Epherene’s finger.

“And what is it this time?” Soliet said, her eyes following the line of Epherene’s finger.

“Knight Yulie!” Epherene called.

At the entrance of the Flower of the Pig, the white-haired knight Yulie stood alongside Reylie, both craning their necks curiously inside.

“Oh… Miss Epherene,” Yulie replied, her eyes widening with a shine, the timid wonder of a deer.

“Come on in!” Epherene said, waving them over with a smile.

“No, we are fine—”

“There’s nowhere else to sit anyway—come on in!” Epherene said, jumping to her feet and pulling Yulie and Reylie inside, sitting them down at the table. “Go ahead—eat! It’s Roahawk. You’re missing out if you don’t. How did you even find this place?”

“Reylie said this was the best place in the Empire… so I couldn’t help being a little curious too,” Yulie replied.

“Oh~ So did you come all the way to the Empire just to visit here?”

“It’s not exactly for that reason alone. We’re just staying here while waiting for the event.”

“The event… are you speaking of Her Majesty the Empress’s Event?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

Epherene placed the meat onto Yulie’s and Reylie’s plates. Yulie, however, could only accept it, her face shadowed by an expression of guilt. It wasn’t just awkwardness—meeting Epherene’s eyes weighed heavily on her chest. Deculein was undeniably a villain, yet when she looked at his protégé, a guilt she couldn’t name stirred within her.

“Eat!.”

“… Yes, Miss Epherene.”

But since she had accepted it, Yulie took a bite, and the moment her teeth sank in, the meat was gone—no, it melted away on her tongue. Yulie’s eyes went wide—and beside her, so did Reylie’s. The two exchanged a quick glance, and the same words of admiration slipped from both their lips.

“This… this is incredible,” Yulie said.

“This is amazing,” Reylie said.

“I told you!” Epherene said with a chuckle, then turned to Julia. “Julia, think we can order a few more?”

“Of course, if it’s Ephie you’re asking for it,” Julia said. “Dad~”

Yulie pulled a wallet from her inner pocket and set it down on the table. It looked hefty, and a glance inside confirmed there were roughly five thousand elne.

“This is very delicious.”

“Yes, but it’s pretty pricey. I guess good things often are.”

Epherene made a passing comment about the price, and Yulie—predictably—answered in exactly the same way she always did.

“It’s okay. This meal is on me,” Yulie replied with confidence in her words.

“Reaaaaally~? But this place is super expensiveeeee~?!” Epherene said, her hand covering her lips in surprise.

“If it weren’t for you, Miss Epherene, we wouldn’t even have a seat. I heard it takes forever to get a reservation—”

“About a month, they say. Is that right, Julia?”

Of course, that had been Epherene’s plan all along—the reason she had invited Soliet in the first place.

Honestly, she just looks rich. And since I’ll definitely eat more, splitting the bill is a win for me, Epherene thought.

“Oh, a month~? That was long ago. Now it’s three months. Only Ephie could walk right in without a wait~” Julia said, her voice slipping like a noble lady.

“Oh, is that so? Then I definitely should be the one buying today’s meal,” Yulie said, popping a piece of meat into her mouth.

Just as planned, Epherene thought, her lips curving into a secretive smile.

“Alright then—I’ll happily take you up on that~”

~

… Thirty minutes later…

“I beg your pardon… how much did you say?” Yulie asked.

Standing at the counter, Yulie’s face turned pale the moment she heard the price—though to be fair, it had always been pale, and now it looked even paler.

“That will be three thousand elne.”

The three thousand elne she had just paid amounted to more than half the travel funds Yulie had brought with her to the Empire—and it had all been spent in a single meal.

Gulp.

Yulie swallowed hard and turned around. Behind her, Epherene remained in conversation with Reylie, while Soliet had since fallen asleep in her chair.

“Excuse me?” the staff said. “The total is three thousand elne. That is the discounted amount.”

“… Oh, yes. This is the discounted price,” Yulie replied, straightening her back.

Okay. Deculein may be a villain, but Miss Epherene has done nothing wrong. If anything, to her, I might be the villain for trying to bring him down. So, at the very least, I can buy her this meal… Yulie thought.

“Yes, h-h-here… h-here you are,” Yulie replied, handing the thick bundle of bills to the staff.

“Thank you,” the staff replied, taking the bills and sliding them into the register.

Yulie felt a sudden wave of dizziness, and for a moment, it seemed as if the ground beneath her tilted ever so slightly.

“Oh, you paid already, Knight Yulie?”

The very next moment, Epherene approached Yulie as if she had been waiting for the payment, accompanied by Julia and Soliet from behind.

“Yes… as I promised I’d cover it,” Yulie replied, swaying slightly on her feet.

“Oh no, I feel terrible… then at least—let me buy dessert for everyone~!” Epherene said, her face lighting up with a bright smile as she led Yulie, Soliet, and Reylie outside.

… That afternoon, Soliet—no, the Empress—returned to her chambers and collapsed into sleep, out like a light before her head even touched the pillow.

***

“Deculein’s protégé… she’s more talkative than I anticipated and tiresome,” Sophien said, that Wednesday at noon.

“How did Your Majesty find the streets today? They say that steakhouse is so sought after, even the nobility struggle to gain entry,” Ahan said, a gentle smile blooming across her face.

“The flavor was satisfactory.”

“If it pleases Your Majesty, I could arrange to serve it as a future meal.”

Knock, knock—

At that moment, a knock sounded at the door, and there was no need to wonder who it could be—it could only be Deculein, the Instructor Mage, as predictable as ever.

“You may enter,” Sophien said.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Then the door opened, and Deculein stepped inside.

“… Your Majesty,” Deculein said, reaching into his briefcase for a textbook and a sheet of magic paper, pausing as his brow tightened.

“What.”

“Your Majesty, did you meet Epherene by any chance?”

How did he know of this? Sophien thought.

“And why would you think that?” Sophien inquired, sleep fleeing her in an instant, but her tone betrays nothing.

“There’s always a familiar scent of meat about her, yet I have never sensed it upon Your Majesty—until now.”

“… Dang it.”

The evidence had already spoken for her—too tired, too lazy, she had used magic in place of water and soap, and that alone had given Deculein all he needed to know.

“Indeed. I met her and she stuffed me with meat—though, of course, she had no idea who I was. Anyway… is the event well prepared? We’re a little under a month away.” Sophien said, her foot tapping against the table.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I believe I have a fair sense of how the event will begin.”

“… You have a fair sense of how the event would begin?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

An odd tension crept into Sophien’s expression.

“Your Majesty, is it not your intent to first gather Adrienne, Ihelm, Epherene, and me?”

Sophien turned to Ahan, only to see her already shaking her head emphatically, as if to swear she’d told no one.

“And how did you—”

“Then.”

“No, wait—”

“Let us begin the magic instruction. I must ask that all questions outside the lesson be saved for after,” Deculein interrupted the Empress, presenting the magic theory before her.

Though discontent was written across Sophien’s expression, she chose—for now—to let him steer, at least for the time being.

“Please look here—at this circuit.”

“I know it already. There’s little more to see. A quintuple circuit—woven intricately with spells,” Sophien said.

“That is correct, Your Majesty. Your brilliance leaves little wanting.”

“Hmph. Brilliance? No, I think you merely gave me a question too simple.”

Deculein’s instruction proved unforgiving; even Sophien herself could not afford distraction, knowing that a single lapse would see her consumed, yet somehow, that tension made it all the more thrilling.

“These spells, woven through a quintuple circuit, strengthen the magic circle. Even magic of the same grade changes drastically depending on whether this theory is applied or not. In the magical realm, they call it the Iron Man. This will be part of my advanced lecture.”

“Indeed, the theory makes sense. Could it be used with the runic language as well?” Sophien asked.

“The method is still in development, or would Your Majesty care to attempt it together?” Deculein replied.

“Professor, if you bring me the blueprint, I see no reason why it cannot be done.”

Sophien understood every word Deculein spoke, just as Deculein understood every word she did, and between them, no explanation was needed.

“Then, Your Majesty, let’s take a look at this spell next…”

From that point on, Deculein and Sophien’s conversation spiraled into realms of advanced theory—geometry, arithmetic, and equations so alien they might as well have been a foreign language to most of the continent.

Even Ahan, who had been diligently recording their exchange like a scholar, found herself defeated and abandoned her records before reaching the conclusion.

As the hours passed with the instruction…

“… However, Deculein,” Sophien said.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Deculein replied.

“Aren’t you curious about what exactly awaits at the event?”

“It would be dishonest to say I feel no curiosity.”

Just that one fact—the death variable—was enough to ignite a spark of curiosity in Deculein’s mind.

Then Sophien spoke, her lips curling into a sneer, delivering just one sentence.

“Yulie, that woman intends to accuse you at the event.”

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