Young Master's PoV: Woke Up As A Villain In A Game One Day

Callum Vale woke up to the soft thump of tiny footsteps approaching… and the smell of something dangerously close to burning.

He blinked, adjusting his eyes to the muted morning light filtering through the curtains, casting lazy shadows across the walls of the bedroom.

The bed beside him was empty but still warm.

Somewhere down the hall, he heard a woman humming a gentle tune to herself. Her soothing voice was familiar and her singing was off-key.

Callum smiled.

But before he could sit up, a body slammed into him with the velocity only a six-year-old could muster.

“Daddy! Daddy! Mommy’s making the eggs dance again!”

Callum let out an exaggerated groan, wrapping his arms around his giggling son. “Oh, the horror! Save me, brave knight Aeren!”

The child — Arren — gasped. “I will protect you!”

Then he brandished a plastic sword with all the seriousness of a sworn defender.

Together, they launched the first mission of the day — rescuing breakfast from culinary warfare.

•••

Liora Vale was in the kitchen, wearing one of her husband’s nerdy oversized shirts that read ‘Books Are My Battlefield.’

The sleeves were rolled up past her elbows, her dark hair tied in a messy bun.

With soft freckles dotting her nose, fair skin, and a face so beautiful it could make the world stop, she looked effortlessly elegant — even now, so early in the morning.

Despite her fearsome reputation as one of the most powerful Awakened in the world — the Shadow of the Southern Monarch, the Radiant Spear of the Crown of Thorns, and the bearer of countless other fearsome titles—

Liora was currently losing a duel… with an omelet.

“Morning, darling,” Callum said, stepping in with Aeren still clinging to his back like a monkey.

She looked up seriously, flour smudged across her cheek. “The eggs have finally staged a rebellion against me. I suspect sorcery.”

Callum playfully rolled his eyes. “Or maybe it’s because you keep flipping them like you’re swinging a glaive.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I see you’ve betrayed me as well, Librarian. How much did the kingdom of eggs pay you for loyalty?”

He chuckled, moving behind her to press a kiss to her neck. She leaned into the touch instinctively, then rubbed her cheek against his.

“Hey, you’re dirty!” Callum complained.

“You love me~” Liora sang, cupping her husband’s face.

Callum sighed, smiling. “No. I tolerate you.”

•••

They sat down for breakfast.

And what was for today’s morning feast?

Slightly crispy eggs. Toasts that looked like they had been tortured for insubordination. And orange juice that Liora claimed she “definitely did not buy five minutes before the convenience store closed last night.”

Their son, Aeren, talked animatedly about his dream from last night. Something about Dragons and Sky Pirates.

Liora listened with wide-eyed awe, asking serious questions about the Sky Pirate command structure.

Callum refilled their juice, played along, and laughed until his sides hurt.

It was an ordinary Sunday morning for their family.

And a much-needed day off for his wife.

Liora had just returned from a month-long battle against an ancient terror in the Sea of Screams.

As a [SS-rank] Hunter and the Southern Monarch’s most trusted warrior, she’d led that war as her army’s general — and emerged victorious.

There was still a lot of work left to do there, but she had done her part. The Southern Monarch was handling the rest.

She deserved at least one day in the warmth of her family.

•••

After breakfast, they stepped out for errands late in the morning.

The city was alive. Awakened sparred in skybound arenas while vendors shouted their wares below.

Liora walked ahead, large sunglasses concealing her sharp gaze. Even in casual wear, she turned heads — not just for her beauty, but for who she was.

“Is that Liora Vale? The Radiant Spear?”

“No way… she’s the one who killed the Terror of the Screaming Sea last week!”

“But what’s she doing on Earth? Shouldn’t she still be in the Spirit Realm, fighting what’s left of the terror’s army?”

“And who’s the guy with her? Her manager?”

Callum caught the whispers, always with the same smile. He didn’t mind.

After all, Liora had fans. Students. Worshippers, even. Cults had formed in her name, and teenagers plastered her posters on their walls.

She had her own action figures, her face on banners, and cameos in commercials.

And he had… a library. And a son who thought he was cool because he could make pancakes in the shape of dragons. That was more than enough.

He watched his wife sign autographs with Aeren balanced on her hip, laughing like a goddess disguised as a mom.

One fan asked for a photo.

“Sure,” Liora said, adjusting her hair. “Only if my husband joins.”

Callum blinked. “Me? But I didn’t fight an eldritch horror of mythic proportions last Tuesday.”

She smiled that sweet, too-sweet smile of hers. “You made dinner last night when I forgot to buy groceries. That’s the real miracle.”

The fan looked confused. Callum just smiled and posed.

•••

After that, they stopped at the park.

Aeren sprinted toward a group of children gathered by the jungle gym. They were his friends.

And they were playing tag, running from a boy wearing a faceless mask.

Between their giggles and shrieks, they chanted an old sing-song rhyme:

“When shadows walk where none should be, Don’t you look, and don’t you see. Lock the door and snuff the flame, Never whisper someone’s name,” one boy sang.

A girl followed with a chuckle, never slowing down, “If the mirror shows not you, Hold your breath and count to two. Should the stillness start to sing, Bow your head. Forget the king.”

Liora leaned against a tree, eyes instinctively tracking the children. Even in quiet moments, she always seemed ready for threats. Truly, she was a warrior to her bones.

Callum handed her a cup of iced tea. “Our dearest son says he wants to be a Knight and not a Hunter like mommy.”

“Good,” Liora murmured. “I want him to dream of saving things, not breaking them.”

Callum glanced at her. “Don’t do that.”

Liora looked up with a frown. “Do what?”

He gestured vaguely at her. “This thing you do — being hard on yourself. We live in a dangerous world, honey. And the world needs someone like you to break things… so there’s still something left to save.”

She was quiet for a beat. Then a lazy smile touched her lips. “I regret not meeting you sooner, Cal. Maybe I wouldn’t have had to suffer so much alone.”

He reached for her hand. Her fingers were calloused. His were ink-stained. They fit.

“I was always beside you,” he chuckled. “You just took your time noticing me.”

Liora rolled her eyes with a soft laugh and pressed her head to his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

It was strange how despite being one of the strongest Awakened alive, she felt so… safe in her husband’s embrace.

They sat under that tree in silence, watching the children play.

Arren had joined the group. He was also running with the other kids now, chanting the rhyme:

“If footsteps fall and leave no sound, Scatter salt upon the ground. When crows fly backward and stop is the rain, Forget the name and don’t complain.”

One of his friends continued:

“If the clocks all chime too soon, Close your eyes and face the moon. If the fire burns cold and blue, He has seen the heart of you.”

Liora sighed softly as she watched them, a flicker of nostalgia brushing across her face.

She remembered how she used to run around with her friends like that when she was a little girl, singing a different version of that very same children’s rhyme.

Then, tapping her chin thoughtfully, she listened as another kid picked up the rest of it:

“When the wind begins to knock, Don’t you answer. Don’t unlock. Turn the cup and break the ring, Say no prayer. Forget the king.”

Liora frowned slightly. “You know… I’ve always wondered about that rhyme. What is it even about? I mean, yeah, it’s clearly about some king, but isn’t it a bit too ominous for children?”

Her husband laughed. “It’s actually a warning. About forgetting a king. Not remembering him.”

Liora raised an eyebrow. “Really? Who was the king?”

Callum shrugged. “No one knows. It’s an old folklore. The story goes that a Nameless King wished for power and paid the price. He was erased from the world. But they say if you speak his name, he’ll hear you. Some believe he’s found his way back. Others think he’s still stuck in the Realms Between Realms. Basically, the moral of the story is to be careful what you wish for.”

Liora blinked, hiding her amusement behind a calm face. Her husband always seemed to know everything. “And when did you become such an expert on children’s fairy tales?”

Callum squinted, then started nibbling her ear, making Liora giggle and try to shove him away — though, of course, she wasn’t actually trying.

A mortal man wouldn’t have stood a chance if she were serious.

Meanwhile, the children finished the last lines of their rhyme as the boy in the faceless mask caught someone.

They all laughed and sang together:

“He wears no face, he bears no crown, But kingdoms burn when he sits down. So bite your tongue and do not sing— Do not remember the faceless thing!”

•••

The three of them went home as the sun dipped.

Aeren fell asleep on the couch mid-sentence, his newly bought stuffed wyvern clutched to his chest.

Liora carried him to bed, brushed back his curls, and whispered a prayer in an old tongue Callum didn’t recognize. But he knew by now it was either Hebew or something close to it.

He watched her from the doorway. A sword-saint. A general. And an endearing wife.

Later, as they lay in bed, Liora curled against him, her breath steady, her hand resting lightly over his heart.

“You know,” she murmured, “the last few weeks were tough. Nothing I couldn’t handle… but… I-I don’t know. It’s just, I could destroy mountains and fight ancient horrors, Cal. I could shatter armies. But you… you make me feel safe.”

He kissed her forehead lovingly. “That’s because I hide my true power.”

She smiled sleepily. “Sure you do.”

Soon, she drifted off.

And Callum watched her sleep with a grin on his face.

•••

Midnight came.

The clock ticked once.

Then it ticked twice.

…And then it stopped.

But it wasn’t just the clock…

Apparently, the world itself had stopped moving.

Everything — every single physical object — was overlaid with flickering lines of red and blue, making it seem as if the very reality was…. glitching.

In that frozen, distorted world — a shadow moved through their hallway.

Callum rose without a sound. The warmth vanished from his expression. The face of a kind father and loving husband disappeared as if it had never been.

He stepped into the living room. A man was waiting there, cloaked in threads that writhed like ink in water. His eyes were pale. Distant. Terrified.

The man knelt and bowed his head reverently. “My King.”

Callum didn’t speak at first. He simply snapped his fingers by his side… and the man’s head exploded.

…Literally exploded.

Blood and gore splattered across the room, greyish brain matter raining down — until everything — every drop, every chunk, every string of flesh — began rewinding.

The blood flowed in reverse, the brain reformed, the skull sealed shut.

It was as if time was moving backward.

But time was also… stopped?

The world no longer made sense.

When the cloaked man’s head was whole again, life flashed back in his eyes and he gasped.

He collapsed forward, pressing his head to the ground at Callum’s feet, trembling. Begging. Crying.

“M-My Liege! Please, forgive me!”

“I told you not to disturb me,” Callum said flatly.

“My King, you haven’t been in contact with us for a long time. It took me months to search for you. A lot has happened and we need you—”

“I know,” Callum cut in. “Ishtara has slipped from our grasp. We failed the first step of our plans. I gave you all one task. And in return, you gave me disappointment.”

The cloaked man shook his freshly reassembled head. “No, my Liege. We believe someone interfered. It wasn’t our failure alone. There was an unseen variable we didn’t account for—”

“Enough,” Callum said sharply. “Are you going to tell me who it was, or are you going to keep talking nonsense?”

The cloaked man hesitated. “W-We don’t have a name yet. But according to our sources, Apex Academy sent a few Cadets to Ishtara to investigate sightings of Spirit Beasts. We believe they’re involved.”

Callum’s brow twitched. “…Are you seriously telling me that some kids — first-year Cadets, not even full Hunters — ruined my years of planning? Who were they?”

The man visibly swallowed. “Two high-nobles, one gentry, one slave, and a commoner. We don’t know if they really are behind it, b-but we will soon. And Ishtara is now in the hands of Apex’s second-year Cadets. This is our chance. We’ll infiltrate the Academy’s Cadet body through them. Poach some to our side. Replace the ones who will refuse to join us with shapeshifters.”

Callum said nothing for a long moment.

His silence weighed heavy, pressing down on the room, distorting the frozen air. The clock remained still.

Reality continued to flicker, red and blue lines dancing along the edges of everything, like the world was uncertain of its own existence.

Then, he exhaled. Quiet. Controlled. Cold.

“So that’s your grand plan,” Callum murmured, raising a hand to study it under the stuttering light of the glitching world. “Poach some children. Replace the rest with doppelgängers. Hope no one notices.”

The cloaked man flinched at the mockery in his tone. “I-It’s only the beginning, my Liege. We’re also close to unleashing the Seed of Eternal Blight. Just a few more months. Five or six at best.”

Callum’s eyes gleamed. Finally, a flicker of interest showed itself on his face. He stepped forward, making no sound.

“And the Harbinger?”

“It’s still sealed, my King. But we’ve started preparations to free the Reflection Beast from beneath the Noctveil Wilds and let it run rampant through the Golden Sanctuary. If the Golden Duke dies while fighting it, perfect. If not, we’ll still gather the sacrifices needed to unseal the Harbinger. We’re close, my Liege. What happened in Ishtara was a setback. Not a defeat.”

A ghost of a smile touched Callum’s lips. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“Good. That’s the first useful thing you’ve said tonight. I’m glad to see the Syndicate hasn’t grown entirely useless.”

The cloaked man looked up, hope shining in his eyes. “Then… you’ll return to us?”

Callum shook his head slowly. “No. I still have a quest of my own to complete. Tell the other Nameless Lords they’re doing well. I’ll return when I’m able.”

The cloaked man nodded, then rose to his feet.

Callum turned and walked to the window. Outside, the world was still paused — raindrops hung suspended in midair, frozen between sky and earth like crystal beads.

He stared out and said, “I expect the Harbinger to be revived by the time I return. Or I’ll be… very disappointed. Now leave.”

Without a word, the cloaked man bowed and twisted on the spot. His body unraveled into ribbons of black, dissolving into the glitching air.

And Callum was alone again.

Silence returned, vast and oppressive.

But his reflection in the window lingered longer than it should have.

It didn’t move when he did. Didn’t mimic his breath. Didn’t mirror his stance.

It simply stood there. Watching him.

Its eyes glowed red.

Callum didn’t acknowledge it. He remained still and whispered to himself, “The game has begun.”

Then, with a soft click, the clock ticked.

Once.

Twice.

…And the world resumed.

The rain fell.

Reality, it seemed, chose to continue pretending to be normal.

But it wouldn’t last.

Not for long.

…Not while the Faceless One was still alive.

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