Hm? You seem a little lost. Or maybe its Netflix syndrome. Don’t worry my dear, I’ll help you find your way!
Are you new here? Or have you been here before? Either way, welcome to Elise’s Arcadia on Earth! I, Elise, have been chosen to be your guide here. Legends have been spun throughout time about this mystical place, but you found your way here. I wonder if this is what they call fate? Did you want a moment of bliss with your favourite character? Through this post, I can guide you to the resort of your choosing and fulfil your desires. Now, take my hand and let us be off!
If it’s Twisted Wonderland you desire, then fall down this rabbit hole:
Elise’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist
If it’s Obey Me you desire, then enter this summoning circle:
Elise’s Obey Me Masterlist
Would you like a rabbit hole of my own design? Fall here with me:
Revenge Of The Ambassador - Twisted Wonderland AU Series
If you want my original characters (OCs) for these fandoms, then first off, I am honoured! And second, I’m still a bit shy haha~ Once I gain the courage to share them, I will!
(OCs Coming Soon!)
If there aren’t any works in yet, I ask you to please be patient. Rabbit holes and summoning circles are hard to fix! Also, if there are other otome fandoms you want me to write for, then I’d consider it!
Did you wish to know what spoils this Arcadia can bring? I can show you:
Fluff
Angst
Soft Yandere
Platonic
Romantic (I won’t ever write romance for a child character like Luke or Ortho etc.)
Basically anything!!
As for what is forbidden in this land:
NSFW
Heavy Gore
Vore
Heavy Yandere
Incest
The usual icky stuff
I’d like to keep this blog SFW please and thank you.
Would you like to talk to me? Because I would like to talk to you! Being alone, even in Arcadia is lonely. Feel free to send me an ask or dm! I would love to interact with all of you!
If you want to request something, go ahead! If you want me to write a request, please give me a character and a prompt. Then, specify whether you want a drabble or headcanons. I answered more questions about rules here.
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Everyone looks like up-and-coming idols, don't they? But according to Yana, these new outfits are meant to be a more modern interpretation of the Ceremonial Robes. It is a way of showcasing the characters' youth and capacity to get up to no good.
She tried to make sure the outfit would look nice on every character + result in a stylish silhouette, no matter what his height or build, since there is a variety among the main NRC cast. The jewels and gold detailing are meant to invoke the image of magic sparkling against the darkness.
I've Reincarnated As The Villainess! - Childe x Reader
Synopsis: You woke up one day in the TV show your friend made! Even worse, you're the villainess! The General, Childe, is your fiancé, and you only hope you can survive. Especially with the heroine around...
One day, when you suddenly woke up, you found yourself in satin sheets, with your hair perfectly curled, and the most expensive dress you've ever worn. You had to rub your eyes to make sure that you weren't dreaming. You saw the room around you, and it was significantly bigger than your own room.
Where were you?
You got up from the bed, each crease in the bed sheets tearing away at your heart. You couldn't imagine how much they cost, only to ruin them. You decided to walk through the marble halls, an aesthetic you never thought you'd see in your lifetime. You saw paintings of a woman and a man dressed in very high-end clothing, but they didn't seem like they were from the present. Yet they seemed oddly familiar.
You saw a mirror at the end of the hall, and you thought to do a checkup before you decide to meet whoever owned this place. They probably had high standards, judging by their taste in architecture.
When you looked into your reflection, you saw it. You saw her. And that girl in the reflection was not you.
You saw the villainess of the show your friend produced, “Taming the General.”
The heroine is just your common girl with a somewhat well-known doctor of a father. Truth be told, her father was only renowned when the plot demanded it. The heroine was just a girl doing alright, before she's picked up by the General's right-hand man overnight. She's then escorted to the General's palace. Turns out the General's been having heart conditions. She did some treatments on him and the General fell in love with her at first sight, even though he was engaged to the villainess. Villainess gets dumped because true love or something, the end.
…Yeah, your friend had very questionable taste. And her series reflected that, but finishing a series is more impressive.
In the mirror, you saw yourself reflected, the villainess of taming the General. You couldn't help but let out an impressively high shriek. The General's right-hand man came running out of his room quickly.
“My lady, are you alright?” He asked, worried immensely. It looked like you scared him.
“You…!” Was the only word able to come out of your mouth? In your defense, you were looking at a fictional character while being in the body of a fictional character.
“My lady, might I ask, have you forgotten me?” he asked hesitantly, seeming almost hopeful that you had forgotten. You just nodded, not really knowing what to say.
He oddly brightened up before panicking once more. “The Mistress is ill, I must send for the medic. Please return to your room, and everything will be fine!”
“Um, thank you? But-” You were cut off by his illuminating smile. It seems any slight bit of kindness you showed him made him act oddly.
He bowed at a sharp 90-degree angle, but his movements were in such a fluid motion, that he ended up barely looking real. You suppose he isn’t really meant to be anyway. “Such kindness from the Mistress!”
He practically cheered before he ran out to get a doctor. However, the reason you wanted to stop him was because you had forgotten which way you came from. And now, you were lost. You couldn't help but grumble to yourself that this was more of a fault on his end rather than yours since he knew you had memory loss.
‘Well, I know I came from the other side of the mirror, so maybe I should just keep walking there? Surely I'll reach my room,’ You thought to yourself. You most certainly did not reach your room. You ended up spiraling through several staircases, which made you way more out of breath than you had anticipated. I mean, who makes a house with this many staircases? Just walking around is like a workout. You ended up passing through several different rooms, such as a music room, a library, and a kitchen. Well, you tried to enter the kitchen, but the staff seemed panicked at your presence, so you just left.
It felt like a sting, knowing that it was most likely due to your villainous reputation that you were so feared. But it wasn't exactly you that had fostered it.
–
You kept walking, feeling like you'd lapped a place fifty times before finally you gave up at the library once again. ‘How many times did I see that book again? Six? Maybe seven?’
“Never thought you were the studious one. Guess I'm finding out something new about you.” You heard a voice from the bookshelf.
“Huh?” You couldn't help but say it out loud. Was this bookshelf really talking to you? It wasn't out of the question. You are in a TV series world.
You reached out to knock on the bookcase. Was it truly sentient? Were you actually knocked out in a coma somewhere and this was just your mind making up little silly stories while doctors tell your family the bad news? You whisper out slowly, “If you can understand me... please say... banana.”
“...Banana.”
Oh god, okay, it was sentient. It was a sentient god bookshelf that you were talking to. What do you do in this situation? Should you call the cops? How do you call the cops on a sentient bookshelf god? Can the cops arrest a bookshelf?
You heard laughter from the bookshelf. Or maybe it was behind the bookshelf. You suddenly felt very stupid. “Ahahah, oh god, I can't believe you actually fell for that,” A boyish voice said.
A ginger-haired man walked out from behind the shelf. Ah, The Warrior General. Of the North, of course. Tartaglia. But that was just his battlefield name. He went by Childe when he didn't don armor.
You can't help but frown at him. It was totally his fault that you fell for such a very totally believable lie because everyone believes in bookshelf gods.
But, you mean, you don't want him to have such a huge ego now, do you? “As if I fell for that,” You replied, “I mean, it was totally unbelievable. You could do better.”
Childe seemed taken aback by your reply. Just a second ago, he looked ready to wince, probably at the villainous's sharp words attacking him. However, you weren't nearly as sharp with yours, even in her body.
“Playing coy, are we?” He asked in a playful tone. “It almost seemed that you were having a conversation with a bookshelf.”
“I so was not,” You replied with your hands on your hips, trying to give off a dominant villainous aura. You weren't doing a very good job, but he didn't have the heart to tell you. Not when you were being so nice today.
“Oh, really? Then where was this not-at-all-coy lady trying to go?” He mused.
You thought about it for a second. “Oh!” You exclaimed. “That's right, I was supposed to return to my room.”
“Oh, what's so urgent that you must rush to your room without saying hi to me? He pretended to pout. You made a mental note to tell your friend (if you ever saw her again) that her male lead was really cute.
You replied with such bravado, “I have amnesia.”
–
And that's how you ended up tucked back into your bed with the General of the North and the Heroine all fretting over you. Well, the former more. In the series, the Heroine was meant to be a morally good person who wanted to help as many people as possible. It’s why she ended up following her father’s footsteps.
But…
“You seem fine,” The heroine says with a deadpan snark.
You look at her, mildly from shock and mildly from confusion. “Yeah, I know I look fine. I have amnesia, not a broken neck.”
“You know, you really took us for a ride there,” Childe says, as his hand nearly grazes just on top of your head. It seems like he hesitated, debating whether to touch you before putting his hand back down.
“Thank you, Colette, for coming to check on my fiancé.” He told the Heroine. So her name is Colette! …You weren’t going to tell your friend that you forgot.
“Childe! You should have told me it was for your fiancé and not you!”
…Oh hell no. Ancient times had pick-mes too??
She pressed the tip of her index fingers together. “I mean, I prepared so much for your heart condition today. If only I knew it was just for your fiancé, I wouldn't have done so much.” You winced at this clearly desperate attempt. And you could see Childe mirror your face.
Huh. You didn't remember the male lead ever reacting negatively to the heroine. Actually, this was a point you brought up with your friend, but she said it was fine, so…
Actually, thinking back, even Childe had reacted somewhat friendly when you had met him in the library. And now the heroine is acting petty. Could your presence in the story have altered it in some way?
“So your fiancé-”
Childe cut her off, “The Mistress.”
Colette's eyes widened, and yours would too, if you were seriously invested in the plot of this trashy TV series. In the series, Childe had never chastised the heroine, especially for the sake of his fiancé. Whether for the sake of honour or respect, it was a welcome gesture. You guess this Childe isn't as 2D as the series made him out to be.
“Oh, I'm sorry. I thought we were close enough to be on bases where we don't need to refer to each other with a lot of respect.” She said, as sad as she could. Childe just looked away. You're starting to wonder whether Childe actually did, as the TV series showed, and took interest in her, or whether it was more that she took interest in him.
“Anyways,” You shook your head and tried to get off the bed, “I'm mostly fine, so I don't think you'd need to worry.”
Childe stopped you before you could fully get up. “Whoa, whoa, I don't think you're going anywhere when you can't recall everything properly.” You bit your tongue before you could tell him that you knew the story very well, thanks to your friend.
Childe's right-hand man comes back into the room. “Miss Doctor,” he calls out, “I have some paperwork for you to sign.”
“Oh yes,” she says, a bit dejected. She sneaks a glance at Childe before leaving with the right-hand man.
You see him wink at you, before leaving. Yeah, you like this guy.
“Soooo…” You say, dragging on. You didn't really know what to say. Not when Childe read it over you like that. But, you recalled the story, not going into depth about the romance between the General and the villainess. So, him taking any interest in you, caught you off guard.
“...You really lost your memory, didn't you?” He says you couldn't tell whether he sounded happy or upset. It sounded like a fact, but he had put a lot of thought into it. It was so odd for such a simple statement.
You thought about it before answering. You did know about some facts of this world, so could you really say that you had lost all your memory? What if you slipped up?
“I remember some basic stuff, but just not everything,” You lied. How else were you supposed to explain the fact that you didn’t come from a cringe TV show?
“I see, hmm… Well you definitely seem a lot cheerier than before. You probably don't remember, but you were such a grumpy little thing.” He says with a grin, but you can tell he didn't quite like the way the villainess acted. It's not like the villainess didn't do anything to deserve that.
Well, fine, if you want to play like that, you could also play, and you'd play even better. “Well, if you just wanted me to be nicer to you, you could have just begged.” You say, batting your eyelashes? “I mean... Did you even try?”
You couldn't see Childe's face from behind batting your eyelashes like you were trying to create a tornado, but you can imagine he was as flabbergasted as can be.
“You just keep knocking me for loops today, Mistress.” He says with a lopsided smile. It looks like the most real smile that you've seen from him today.
You smiled back, “Right back at you, General.”
You felt a weird sensation wash over the air, the way this supposed cold General looked over you. The way he looked he wanted to know you better. It just felt so real and just so…
Oh no.
Oh no no no, you were catching feelings. Bad villainess!
You've watched too many k-dramas to not feel what was in the air and what was in the air was this tragic thing called love. At least it would be in the air if you couldn't hear the General's right-hand man and Colette arguing in the hallway. Something or rather about not messing it up.
Childe's hand twitches. You didn't miss it. You could tell he probably wanted to try touching you again, but waited.
“You can do it, you know,” You say, looking away, a bit shy all of a sudden. Villainesses weren’t supposed to be shy! You miss the way Childe's eyes become wide and the smile on his face grows.
But before he could do anything, Colette barged back into the room. “That's enough of that. I need to take care of the patient,” Colette whined, but it's clear she didn't give a damn about you.
“Really, Childe, you should probably leave her to rest,” She continues, “especially if she has anything planned for tomorrow.”
“Yeah, you're not going anywhere when you have such a big day tomorrow.” Childe states, pulling the sheets over you.
“A big day?” You asked confused.
He looked over at you in concern. “Yes, you were the one that insisted on having a tea party tomorrow with all your friends and acquaintances.” He looked closely into your eyes to check for dilation. “Maybe you shouldn't host tomorrow. I know you'll say yes because you're just that stubborn, but are you sure you're okay?”
Tea Parties? Maybe that's what you needed. To see all of the Villainous' comrades. They had the Villainous back until her end, so it'd be good to bolster connections with them. In the meanwhile, Childe’s face was so close to yours, and the way he was looking deep into your eyes…
You quickly sputtered out. “Yeah, I mean, don't worry about it. I mean, I feel like I remember everything already. I was just overthinking my tea party…”
He looked like he didn't buy it, but he didn't question you. You can see Colette behind him looking furious. Thankfully, she wasn't one of your friends or acquaintances, so there’s a low chance you’d see her.
You felt it best to steer away from her and get yourself together. While the story didn't follow the path of the TV series, who knows what could happen? Maybe Childe and Colette will end up together. Maybe they won't. Maybe Childe will just kill Colette because she said uwu.
Not like you can really steer clear of Childe, though, when you live in the same manner.
–
Tomorrow had become today, and it was finally time for your tea party. You were a gracious host, setting everything to perfection, and just when everything seemed to be going fine, Colette had arrived as someone's plus one. Did tea parties even have plus ones? Well, regardless, she was here now, and it'd be totally rude if you kicked her out. You were tempted. But you were far too much of a good host to do so.
“Well, I mean, I'm just here so often that I'm pretty much a co-host if you think about it,” Colette told your friends. Only a couple really paid attention.
It makes sense when you think about it. A villainess's friends are equally as cunning as she is. And cunning friends wouldn't exactly listen to the heroine with or without her talking about how she owns the host party.
Unfortunately for her, it was clear that she lacked much grace from being never a part of any etiquette classes. It makes sense for the middle class, however, it gets talked about during high-end tea parties. Tis unfair.
You, surprisingly, were excellent at etiquette. The owner of this body has clearly practiced so much that, even with a different mind, it could still perform with absolute technique and grace.
Your friends were something else, though. A few of them were self-made merchants that have clawed through the grapevine to reach the very top. Others were from noble families, aspiring to marry rich to raise their bloodline or delve into literary education.
Overall, you enjoyed your time with them. Even if you did have to listen to Colette blab about something or other.
Halfway through your party, you saw your fiancé come through. “I hope you're hosting our guests properly, dear Mistress,” He said, taking a seat beside you.
You looked at him with surprise before replying, “Well, of course I did.”
He raised an eyebrow for a split second before masking his emotions. ‘Right, the original villainess didn't appreciate Childe interrupting her parties.’ You thought. It was so surprising that even your friends were taking note.
Before you could comment on him, you heard the sound of ceramics shattering. You looked over and saw Colette blowing on her finger with a teacup shattered on the ground. ''Owie!'' She exclaimed, showing Childe her finger. ''It hurts so bad, Childe!''
You couldn't help but notice it didn't even look red. “If it's that bad, Colette, wouldn't you be able to fix it? I mean, you are the doctor.” You stated.
Collect glared at you. “Please try to have a bit more sympathy for the hurt. I would expect the host of this party and especially the Mistress that Childe will marry to be a lot more kind and generous.”
Before you could say anything, Childe interrupted. “Absolutely not.”
Collette winced hard, pouting at Childe, “Oh, I'm sorry. I was just in so much pain that I just said-”
“I'll call a carriage for you. It's best you make your exit. Goodbye, Colette.” Childe said with a smile. But this smile didn't quite reach his eyes. And it was clear he wasn't as happy as he was pretending to be.
You could hear your friends whisper around you, making comments, that they weren't exactly shy to keep to themselves.
The way Colette's face twisted was honestly just kind of sad. She was annoying for the brief amount of time that you knew her. But something tells you that this won’t be the last time you’ll deal with her.
“Goodbye, Childe.”
She turned to walk out the gate, but before she left, she reared her ugly head and said, “I'll see you again soon,” before leaving.
You could hear Childe's exasperated sigh beside you. You felt something warm touch the top of your head before you realized that it was his hand grazing your hair. The way he looked at you, so soft and so playful and sweet.
Maybe being a mistress is in your cards after all.
–
The next couple of days went by pretty quickly. You were doing your best to rehabilitate. Or so you said. You just mainly decided to stay at home and bide your time. You didn't really know much about this world, so it's not the best idea to start prancing around town. Especially when there are probably people that you've terrorized there. And you know what they say about peasants in numbers.
The General's right-hand man, whom you have now discovered is named Charlie, was more than willing to help you out. Especially since actual-you was so much more open to hanging out with him than villainess-you. You shifted the scrolls in your hand so they weren't uncomfortable as you walked besides Charlie. His face was plastered with an apologetic expression for making you help him out, but you insisted it was no big deal.
“Oh, by the by,” he mentioned, “have you heard of the Open Ball? That'll be happening in the King's Palace next week.”
“Open Ball?” You said it confusedly. Sounds like ‘open bar’, but it most likely wasn’t going to be as good of a time.
“Ah, that means even select commoners are welcome to attend. For example, Colette's father and Colette were invited.” He said, shaking his head. It seems he didn't like her either.
“Yeesh.” You sound annoyed. “I still don't understand what her problem is.”
Charlie nodded alongside you. “Yeah, she's been sort of odd for as long as I've known her. Truth be told, the General's condition was terrible one night. So I rushed into town to find Colette's father, since he was well-renowned in this area. However, he was out of town at the moment, and Colette was all that was left. I brought her back in, and she managed to stabilize him. It did take a while and was a lengthy process, however, I'm simply thankful that my General's alright. Colette, on the other hand, acted like she brought back the dead. The General's very thankful for her. And that's why he allows her to visit his residence from time to time. However, it's clear he's rethinking that decision.”
“That's good. She's kind of... difficult.” You decide to choose your words carefully.
“Yeah, she is the worst.” He did not.
“But with you by his side, I'm sure all of his decisions must be going a lot smoother. Especially since…” He trailed off.
“Since?” You asked suspiciously.
“I mean, since your memory loss, you've been a lot more... different? Don't get me wrong, I do prefer you the way you are currently. But you’re so much more kind now! I feel like your equal and sincerely appreciate you.” He says, not looking at you. You could see his pink ears from a mile away though.
Oh, now you remember! Your friend wrote him an unnecessarily tragic backstory, and then didn't expand on it, so he's just a character that's been neglected his whole life. Except by the General, and now you. Congratulations, you're not a terrible person.
“Sounds like you're just happy you got someone to carry scrolls for you,” You said with a fake huff. He snorted loudly before covering his face in embarrassment, which caused you to start cackling in laughter.
“Hey, cut that out!!” He stammered embarrassed. But you kept laughing, rushing off to his quarters with him chasing after you.
–
You had made plans prior to go gown shopping to find something new to wear to the Open Ball. It did take place in the king's palace, so looking nice was definitely a priority. What you didn't expect was your dearest General tagging along.
“Naturally, I'd like to see what my fiancé would be wearing. Don't I get to see your beauty first?” He drawled.
And here he was. You thought maybe visiting a couple boutiques and having a few simple shopping sprees would have definitely sent him running for the hills. However, here he was, walking behind you, his arms full of bags.
You weren't opposed to his presence. But whenever you were around him, you just felt these butterflies in your stomach, and you felt a bit lightheaded, and oh my god, it's all his fault.
Finally, you got into the gown boutique. It was your last stop for the day. You were just so bewildered by the rest of town. After all, you haven't really been going anywhere since you got transported into this TV series world by probably Truck-kun.
You opened the door, the little bell making your heart warm. As you stepped in, when you saw... Ugh. Colette was there, looking at a couple dresses. She noticed you, but quickly scowled and looked away. She walked over to the other side of the boutique. Whatever, fine by you. At least she didn't see Childe.
You saw Childe saunter to the new arrivals. You followed him, not really used to such luxurious boutiques. He was always so well put together that you did trust his judgment.
An associate saw the two of you and immediately recognized the General and the Mistress. She rushed towards you, showing a couple high-end dresses. “Sire and Madam, might I interest you in these? They've been handcrafted by a renowned designer. They're completely one-of-a-kind, as your Mistress deserves the best.”
“What will you be wearing?” You demanded, turning to Childe.
“Oh, what does what I wear matter?” He asked with a teasing grin. His teeth could rip you apart.
You couldn't tell him that you wanted to match. That'd be so embarrassing. “No reason,” You looked away.
But as if he could read your mind, he pulled from the rack a deep royal purple dress. It was decked to the nines with little intricate designs. It would look perfect on you. “Since I'll be wearing black and purple to the vault, you should match with me.”
“You want to match with me?” You ask, the words coming out softer than you would prefer. However your words were true.
He touches your shoulder gently. His touch was warm and kind, much different than he normally portrayed himself. His eyes don’t look as empty as they do in the tv series.
“I think I should be asking you that.”
Your face burned and it wasn’t your expensive lotion. You could see Childe leaning forward, getting closer to your face. You closed your eyes when-
“Childe!!”
Oh, right. You forgot that Colette was also in the boutique. To be fair, she was very forgettable.
You jumped back, accidentally knocking back into the shelf behind you. Geez, does she ever have timing?
Alright, you just about had it with her antics. Colette came up to you, the two of you, practically prancing. As she smiles, such a fake smile. Was this a TV show perk of being the heroine? Because how could no one else see that she was the fakest person that's ever existed? She's more artificial than AI ever could be.
“Childe, I'm surprised to see you here.” She says with big eyes. “It's just that I thought you didn't like boutiques. I remember you telling me that most of the time, clothing didn't matter to you.”
Childe simply smiled, though it was as hollow as Colette. “They didn’t before.”
Colette laughed a little too hard and then turned to you, “Oh my, I didn’t know you liked the clothes from here!”
God, you wanted to wipe that smirk off her stupid-looking face. You managed to fake a small grin. “Oh yeah, I guess it's not really my usual style. But, Childe likes me in everything I wear, so...”
She hummed disinterestedly. Why even bring it up then? You turned to Childe and smiled reassuringly. “You go on ahead. I'll meet you when I come out.”
He looked between the two of you for a second. Your heart fluttered when you realized he was worried about you. You couldn’t help but ponder whether he’d consider assisting your shopping each time.
You nodded encouragingly, and that set the deal for him. Childe patted you on the head before heading to the door.
Turning to Colette, you crossed your arms. You couldn’t help but be amazed and disturbed by her audacity.
“Need Childe to leave before you can speak to me? Sounds like he cares way more about me than… other people.” She giggled, leaning against the rack beside her.
“Not at all. I can fight my own battles. I just don’t like people annoying my fiancé.” You looked at her through your lashes. “You know, other people.”
Colette walks past you and points at a pair of heels at the window. “Those. I want those.”
It took you a second to calm down when you realized she wasn’t talking to you. The poor attendant who was walking by timidly went to get the shoes. Right, villainesses in TV shows end up turning those around them meek of fear! …huh but Colette-
“Childe is kind, you know.” Colette doesn’t turn around, but she tilts her head to gaze at you.
Hold on, this is the villainess’ line at the end of her part in the show! But you weren’t the one saying it…
Colette continues, smirking widely at you, “He’s able to take in strays like you.”
You feel a weight being lifted off your shoulder, and you stand up straight.
“I suggest you run along now. It would be hard for you to handle this life, so I think you should go.”
By the time the attendant came back with Colette’s choice in high heels, she was smiling triumphantly. Pre-rejoicing her victory was she? “There, those chic heels will show you. I’ll give them to you if you leave. You must love used goods.”
You merely smiled back, “Oh hunny, those were in fashion last summer.”
You turned away, hearing her shriek in anger before taking Childe’s arm and heading out. You’d make sure to discuss banning Colette from your new favourite boutique. Maybe you were a villainess at heart.
You feet best about it when you get to hear Childe laugh.
–
Finally, the day of the Open Ball arrived.
Charlie helped you with your hair and makeup. Man was way too talented to be a real person. “How are you feeling?”
“Just like any girl going to an Open Ball,” You said, clutching your hands together, you couldn't shake off the nerves.
The TV show never really went into the King's Castle, despite a major event being there. Honestly missed opportunity, but you'll leave the criticism to the one-star reviews on Yelp. More importantly, the villainess had already been ousted before she got the opportunity to talk with the King. So you didn't know how he was going to react, and the thought of you messing up now, well…
“You’ll be wonderful.” Charlie said with a soft smile, “Just as wonderful as the General says you are.”
You blush bashfully. Even hearing his title makes you want to scream like a high schooler. This wasn't your first love, so why are you acting like this? You took a deep breath to calm the nerves and the fluttering in your heart.
You heard a knock on the door. “Well, is my beautiful fiancé all decked out just for me?”
You resisted the urge to giggle at his voice. “For you or for the king?” You could both banner and forth all day, then all night. He was just so comfortable.
“Now my dear, I think we both know who you're dressing up for.”
You checked yourself in the mirror one last time before opening the door. “Well, regardless, I'm ready now.” You nod happily.
Childe looked you up and down. “That purple gown looks radiant on you, my dear.”
You couldn't help but eye him yourself. “I think purple looks better on you.”
“Nonsense. That purple makes your smile look brighter.”
“No way! That purple makes your eyes look more dashing.”
“Charlie, what do you think?” Childe asks with his arm crossed and a pout. He looks so cute trying to be mad!
“I think,” Charlie shakes his head, “that you both will be late if you do not hurry up.”
“Oh, right!” You hurried your way down to the grande doors.
Childe walks behind you. Alas, your run was the equivalent of his long strides. Once you push open the doors, the cool air of the night envelops the both of you. It's best to get all the fresher you can now before the open ball suffocates you both.
Childe walked around and then in front of you. He held out his arm. “My dear,” He winks, “It's only the proper thing to do, of course. For my darling.”
You couldn't trust your voice, so your very shaking hand takes his arm and holds onto it tight. He was obviously very well-built, as he is a General, but still, actually touching him like this sent shivers down your spine.
“We'll be back late, so don't bother waiting up for us, Charlie.” Childe waved him off.
Charlie shook his head amused. “Wasn't planning on it. You have fun, my lady.”
You nodded your head. “I will. We'll see you.”And Childe led you into the carriage.
He helped you up and followed suit. Now you knew that Childe had much larger, much more luxurious carriages. It's not like this one wasn't. It was absolutely decked out with beautiful colors and charms. And the carriage itself looked very sturdy. However, the space in between the two seats for legroom wasn't much. Your knee was pressed right against Childe’s.
“I hope you're not too uncomfortable, my dear.” He grinned. Damn him, he totally did this on purpose!
–
The ride felt both too long and not long enough. After all, Childe had grazed your knee with his knuckles far too many times for it to be merely an accident. The carriage stopped right at the grand entrance, where the grandiose staircase lay before the even grander castle. How grand.
Childe opened the carriage and helped you out.
Every step up the stairs you both took together, your hands still firmly on his bicep. You both marched up with the dignity and grace of a King and Queen.
“Still nervous?” He pondered.
You both made it to the top and you turned to him. “Yes I am, but there’s something I want to do more.” This time you walked in front of him and gave him your hand. “Follow me.”
He held yours without hesitation.
“Introducing the General of the North and the Lady of the North!”
The gazes of everyone looking at you was both intense and exhilarating. Is this what villainesses saw? Whenever they made an entrance, music played and all eyes were on them while they waltzed in without a care in the world.
You both took the stairs down to the ballroom. “You know, my dear,” Childe starts, “I have to say I wasn't expecting this whole change of events. I mean losing your memory so suddenly. But the person you are now is truly a wondrous person. And it's you.”
You were happy that Childe was by your side during this. Or else you might have been so nervous as to trip down the stairs.
Though, now that he was using such flowery language…
You are certain. “Childe, my General, I want…”
“Introducing the daughter of a renowned doctor, Colette!”
Okay, renown your ass. You haven't even met the guy yet. The plot really was all wishy-washy with this character.
Secondly, Colette being here just put a damper on the whole thing. You knew that she would come, but still, it just takes away from the whole experience.
You caught the gazes of your friends from your tea party. They looked severely unhappy at Colette's presence. You couldn't really blame them, it's not like they liked Colette being at your tea party either. And they quite remember how... graceless she was, to put it mildly.
Collette came down the stairs on her own. She was trying really hard to be elegant, to glide across the stairs. But it ended up looking like she was part of a marching band and she was kicking her legs with every step, flailing like a goose.
At this point, it seems like the father has been completely written out of the story. You shake your head at this nonsense. Now this is something the budget should have considered when making the TV show.
When stepping onto the final step, she stomped a little too hard and the heel of her high heels chipped off. With a yelp, she tumbled to the floor.
The orchestra stopped playing, and a couple of the servants helped her stand up. With their help, she got up, wobbling.
You just looked at Childe. He had a hand over his mouth, and his eyes were dark. But since you were beside him, you could see the corners of his lips twitching uncontrollably. He discreetly leaned towards you, letting out a laugh he’d been holding. “Can't imagine her father would be too pleased with her behavior.”
Yeah, you don't know how some character that's non-existent to the plot would be pleased with her behavior.
The silence was so awkward as the orchestra shuffled to finish the current song. You could hear Colette saying something about how ‘this is so unlike her!’, but you had your hands over your eyes to avoid making eye contact with anyone.
“The King has an announcement to make!”
Up by the throne, there he stood. If you remember correctly, the King was the second male lead in the TV series. However, it left a lot to be desired since they didn't expand upon him much. However, he did well in the ratings, because they hired a hot guy to play him.
“I thank everyone for arriving today. May the dancing for this Open Ball commence.” He raised his arms, and the orchestra played with full force. They couldn’t afford to embarrass themselves in front of the King.
Everyone split up into pairs, before your eyes. But there was really only one person you wanted to dance with. With all your strength, you ask your fiancé, “Hey, would you like to…”
“Childe! I think we should have a dance first.” Colette came over and you wished she stayed fallen at the bottom of the staircase.
Childe didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to say anything. He simply supported your back with his hand and took you to the empty side of the ballroom. “My dear, care for dance?”
“Would I?” You replied with a smile, but it told him all he needed to know.
You were grateful the villainess knew how to dance. It practically came like second nature. While you swayed with Childe, you snuck a glance at Colette.
There she was in the middle of the ballroom completely alone. It was so odd to see really because when is the heroine alone? Resignation took over her face, and she walked out, her broken heel unevenly clanking against the floor.
The song reached its climax, and Childe took you in for the dip. His face grazed gently over yours. You can feel yourself heating up. You wanted him so very badly. “So, my dear–” Childe held you tightly, “–no. My love.”
Your arms slowly slide up and wrap around the back of his neck. This world isn’t nearly as bad as you first thought. How could it be when he was here?
He leaned in, both your lips nearly touching.
“I hope you’re ready to spend your all by my side.”
Going to see a Christmas Carol in the Human World with Diavolo and the brothers takes a turn when the brothers forget what’s normal for them is not normal for everyone else.
You shuffled out from the middle seat of the packed car and hopped onto the icy pavement. You blew into your gloves to warm your face and looked around as the brothers climbed out of the cars around you.
Mammon: “So, this is the fancy theatre place, huh?”
Satan: “It’s a performing arts center.”
Mammon: “That’s the same damn thing!”
Lucifer: “Quiet! We’re late enough as it is! I won’t have you all bickering in the parking lot and wasting more time. You should be thankful Diavolo even invited you to this play to begin with.”
Leviathan: “What is this play about again?”
MC: “It’s called A Christmas Carol.”
Belphegor: “Ugh, we don’t have to listen to carolers do we?”
Beelzebub: “It’ll be okay Belphie.”
Belphegor: “No it won’t. Remember what satan did last time?”
Satan: “I was being slandered, those kids had it coming!”
Lucifer: “That’s what I thought. Now does everyone have their human identities?”
Mammon: “Ugh, not this again.”
Lucifer: “This it’s important. Our names are well known up here, gathered all in one place like this it could scare someone.”
Belphegor: “That sounds like fun.”
Lucifer: “It won’t be when Michael hears about it. Now, tell me your names again.”
Mammon: “Matthew…boring ass name—“
Asmodeus: “Guuuuuys! I can see my breath! Look!”
Asmodeus: “Huuuuuuuh.”
Mammon: “Oh yeah! Neat!”
Lucifer: “Stop that. Honestly, you aren’t children.”
Lucifer ushered you to the growing lines as everyone excitedly waited to get through security and into the grand hall for the long-awaited performance.
Security Officer: “Lines that way.”
Lucifer: “Thank you.”
Satan: “We have tickets already.”
Security Officer: “Still that way.”
Satan: “Fine.”
MC: “Excuse me, we’re looking for a friend.”
Mammon: “Why would he know Diavolo, there’s like a million people here?”
MC: “He’s a real eccentric guy, red hair?”
Security Officer: “You mean that guy waving on the balcony?”
MC: “Yeah, that’s the one.”
Security Officer: “Been there about three hours now.”
Lucifer: “How many?”
Security Officer: “Staff was making a real big fuss about him too. You know him?”
MC: “Yeah, he kidnapped me a while back.”
Security Officer: “Excuse me?”
MC: “So the lines that way, yeah? Thanks.”
Security Officer: “Kidnapped?”
You chose not to answer him and ran to catch up with the brothers who’d quickly followed Lucifer lest they provoke his seasonally intense wrath.
Satan: “Lucifer you don’t need to call him you can see him from here just fine.”
Mammon: “I think he’s shoutin’ somethin’?”
Leviathan: “He’s saying…uh…”
Beelzebub: “I…can… see… my…. Breath.”
Lucifer: “…”
Lucifer: *sigh*
Asmodeus: “Isn’t it cool!!!”
Mammon: “Yikes! My ears Asmo!”
Lucifer: “That’s enough, where’d MC go?”
Leviathan: “Hey that officer guy looks kind of nervous now…he’s really staring at us?”
Lucifer: “He probably heard Mammon refer to Asmo by his name.”
Mammon: “You just referred to me by my name too!”
MC: “Hey guys, what’d I miss?”
Lucifer: “Nothing of significance.”
Beelzebub: “Lord Diavolo says he can see his breath.”
MC: “That’s adorable, I expect nothing less.”
Lucifer: “Please don’t encourage him MC.”
MC: “No promises.”
Lucifer: *sigh* “Does everyone have their tickets?”
Satan: “No.”
Lucifer: “What do you mean, no!?”
Satan: “You took them because you didn’t trust us to hold them!”
Lucifer: “Clearly I was right.”
Satan: “What?”
Lucifer: “Mammon this is yours. Your name is now Matthew Morningstar.”
Mammon: “I know, you made me go over it a million times. I don’t think anyone’s gonna even ask right?”
Lucifer: “They will in an interrogation.”
Asmodeus: “What? Are we being interrogated?”
Lucifer: “Hopefully not.”
MC: “The night’s still young.”
Lucifer: “Stop it, MC.”
Lucifer: “Levi, congratulations you get to keep your name.”
Leviathan: “Thank goodness.”
Lucifer: “Satan you’re going as Stanford Morningstar.”
Satan: “That’s a stupid last name.”
Lucifer: “Ignoring that, Belphegor your name is Todd.”
MC: “Why’d you choose Todd?”
Belphegor: “It means death in German.”
MC: “Yup, okay…”
Lucifer: “Beelzebub, you’re name is Benjamin, you can go by Ben if you want to— do not eat this ticket.”
Beelzebub: “…”
Lucifer: “Todd, you’re holding onto his ticket.”
Mammon: “Who the fuck is Todd?”
MC: “Belphegor, pay attention.”
Belphegor: “I am paying attention.”
MC: “I was talking to Matthew.”
Beelzebub: “Matthew?”
Lucifer: “Change of plan, we only call each other by our human names in front of other humans.”
MC: “I’m a human.”
Lucifer: “You don’t count.”
MC: “Shucks.”
Lucifer: *sigh* “Asmodeus you’re name is Amadeus, that’s an easy one, don’t forget it.”
Asmodeus: “Okie!”
Lucifer: “I’m going as Lucious, I believe that’s everyone.”
Asmodeus: “I’ll go first and show you all how it’s done!”
Leviathan: “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”
Satan: “Because you should.”
Guard: “Ticket.”
Asmodeus: “Right here sweetie!”
Guard: “Amadeus?”
Asmodeus: “That’s right!”
Guard: “That’s a cool name. Seeing the Christmas Carol?”
Asmodeus: “I sure am!”
Guard: “Haven’t seen it in a bit, hope ya have fun. I’ll have to take my wife and kids when I get a chance, maybe next year. Alright, raise your arms for me.”
Asmodeus: “Oh no, did I mess up already?”
Guard: “Already?”
Leviathan: “Asmo, just T-Pose.”
Asmodeus: “Ew, why in the Devildom would I do that? That’s so not tending right now!”
Lucifer: “He has to use the metal detector, lift your arms.”
Asmodeus: “Ooooh, okay!”
Mammon: “Real master if I ever saw one…”
Asmodeus: “Shut up Mammon! I’d like to see you do better!”
Guard: “Any weapons on you, sir?”
Asmodeus: “Oooh, just in my pants!”
Guard: “I’ll need you to take it out for me.”
Asmodeus: “What? How bold! Right here in front of all these people?”
Guard: “…?”
Lucifer: “That’s it. I’m sorry sir, my brother was making a stupid dirty joke, none of us have any weapons. Lift your arms Asmo before I do it for you.”
Asmodeus: “That sounds like fun.”
Lucifer: “It won’t be once we’re home if you don’t hurry it up.”
Asmodeus: “Yikes! Okay, okay!”
Guard: “Okay…just gonna pat you down real quick….”
Asmodeus: “Pat me anywhere you want pal— ow! Lucifer that hurt!”
Lucifer: “Be. Quiet.”
Guard: “Lucifer…u-um…Amadeus, you’re all good.”
Lucifer: “Don’t you dare go anywhere, wait right there until Mam—Matthew goes through.”
Mammon: “Y’know on second thought why don’t I watch Satan first?”
Satan: “Ow! Don’t shove me what’s wrong with you?”
Lucifer: “Someone just go.”
Satan: “Very well”
Guard: “So…that’s you’re umm…brother?”
Satan: “Unfortunately.”
Guard: “Stanford Morningstar?”
Satan: “Stupid surname, I’m aware.”
Guard: “I think it’s quite unique actually, has a nice ring to it.”
Satan: “That’s your opinion.”
Guard: “Uh, lift your arms please…no weapons I presume?”
Satan: “None.”
Guard: “You’re all good, please proceed.”
Leviathan: “Mammon don’t push me what’s up with you!?”
Guard: “Are you next?”
Leviathan: “H-Hello, fellow human! Sir!”
Guard: “Haha! You guys are a pretty fun bunch aren’t ya?”
Leviathan: “We met at a convent.”
Guard: “What?”
Lucifer: “What?”
Leviathan: “I-I, um…it just came out.”
MC: “This is beautiful.”
Lucifer: “MC, you’re next. Please take them up to Lord Diavolo after this.”
Guard: “Alright, no weapons, you’re good.”
Leviathan: “Thank you, goodbye!”
Mammon: “…”
Guard: “So one big family trip today huh?”
MC: “No, I was kidnapped.”
Guard: “What?”
MC: “I forgave them though. Stockholm syndrome is a hell of a drug.”
Guard: “You guys really are pretty funny. You a comedy group or somethin’?”
MC: “We might as well be given my daily life.”
Guard: “Any weapons?”
MC: “Only spiritual.”
Guard: “Good on you. Me too. Catholic, what about you?”
MC: “I don’t even know at this point. I’m just here for Diavolo.”
Guard: “Well I hope you figure it out, have a good time.”
MC: “God willing.”
You looked at Lucifer as you said that and he glared at you while you gave Mammon, who was sweating bullets, a curious look. Something was definitely wrong with him.
Leviathan: “You think they’ll be okay in line without us?”
MC: “It’s just Beel, Belphie, and Mammon, it’ll be fine.”
Satan: “Okay. Let’s go up to see Lord Diavolo and brief him.”
MC: “Someone go buy some popcorn so Beel doesn’t have a breakdown in line.”
Asmodeus: “Leave it to me!”
MC: “No charming anyone, they’ll get fired.”
Asmodeus: “Ugh, fine.”
Mammon: “Hey uh…Belphie you mind going ahead.”
Belphegor: “What, why?”
Mammon: “I uh…may have forgotten somethin’…”
Belphegor: “…what did you do?”
Mammon: “Nothin’.”
Lucifer: “Mammon.”
Mammon: “I uh…forgot that weapons were kinda a big deal in the human world…maybe.”
Lucifer: “…”
Lucifer: “Beelzebub, Belphegor, don’t cause trouble, go right to MC they’re waiting at the door.”
Mammon: “Hey that’s my collar, hey! Where are ya takin’ me? Lucifer!”
Guard: “…”
Belphegor: “Just ignore them, it’s better not to question it.”
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I’d like to say that the games ending does not mean the fandom is or should be ending in any way. There is a near endless amount of materials and potentials for this game and the creative fandom to draw from and to create.
The game is now ours. We decide the future, so giving up on the fandom seems really silly and sad. I’ll still be here. You can count on this blog to always have quotes, answers, fun facts, screenshots, and stories now more than ever.
I will do my part in keeping this game and fandom alive. Please join my efforts and don’t delete your works or accounts just because the games are over.
I don’t know what will happen with Obey me in the future but I’ll be here for it and I hope you will be too.
I am still very angry with Solmare but to the games themselves I want to thank you for getting me through covid and severe depression. You somehow reignited my interest in my faith too. You connected me to my writing and my dreams of the future and helped me in the most confusing years of my newly adult life.
So thank you obey me for all the fun times that I’ve had and will continue to have. As thanks, know I’ll always be here writing the future of the characters you’ve brought to life that I love so much.
Here’s to the future of Obey Me Shall We Date and our fandom.
Now, finally. After being chingue y chingue con que ya era la última parte. This is the final part. Heavely hungry and sleepless I arrive to the end of this fanfic.
Thank you to all the readers for bearing with me, I know that I was mame y mame with the grammar mistakes but it's because I cannot avoid thinking that I'm making a fool of myself.
Believe me when I say I do this for fun, but given that I run out of motivation quite fast I kept writing because your comments.
Thanks to all of you and please wish me luck tomorrow cause I'll be a working zombie.
GET OUT OF MY WAY 🌈
You couldn't move. Worse than that, you were trapped in a demonic oven, cooking yourself alive. Every part of your body was sweating, you could feel it on your forehead, your wet hair sticking to your face.
“I can't sleep.” You said but your complaints were met with silence. “I can’t sleep because of you.” Once again, you received no response. It's not that this situation was unexpected, but for some reason you thought it wouldn't happen so soon, at least not until you had talked about the elephant in the room.
You were getting ready for bed when someone knocked on your door, not a second later the door opened to reveal a hunched over and disheveled Belphegor dragging his pillow. Behind him was Beelzebub, dressed in thin black pants and a simple white shirt. “Let's have a sleepover.” Belphie mumbled, throwing himself onto the bed but hanging in the air instead thanks to Beel holding his hoodie. “Only if you want.” Beel added with a serious expression.
You tried to fight off Beelzebub’s pleading eyes but, it was a cold night. “Fine, but don’t eat in my bed.” The redhead smiled widely, nodding a few times before releasing Belphie. Beelzebub could make any bed look like a crib, especially your old single little bed. “Where am I supposed to sleep now, hm?” Still with a smile on his face he simply opened his arms, an offer you accepted gladly. It was nice to lie on top of him listening to the soft beat of his heart, feeling Belphie’s arms around you.
“Good night, Mc.” You heard his voice hoarse from sleep.
It was an hour later when the door opened and you felt someone else climb onto the bed, making Belphie snarl in the process. The smell of Mammon's shampoo filled the room. “Night.” He murmured, giving you a quick peck, lying down next to you too.
Fifteen minutes later, you felt someone make space between you and Belphie, waking up the Avatar of Sloth again. The softness of his skin and the scent of roses told you who the culprit was. “Sweet dreams, dear.” He kissed your forehead.
“Good night everyone.” Your eyes were on the door, already prophesying the appearance of another demon. The seconds passed without any interruption, except the casual movement of one of the giant demons trying to fit better, however the door remained closed.
It was starting to get hot, but the calm breathing and cozy atmosphere lulled you to sleep.
The tight grip of Levi's tail on your right leg woke you up, he was sleeping soundly in the middle of your legs hugging it like a pillow. “When did he arrive?”
“We got here at the same time.” Satan answered, he was sitting on the other side of the bed. You looked at him long before actually understand his words. “You can’t sleep like that, Satan.”
Truth is that nobody could. The bed was too small to fit seven bodies, not only that but they were heavy and the poor bed base was about to give up. You could practically hear the wood cry, and so could the brothers. “Some of you have to go.” You stated, eyes looking at the ceiling.
“Beel weighs more than all of us.” Mammon said immediately. “I arrived first.” Beel was quick to reply. “Then Satan and Levi should leave, they were the last.” Asmo didn’t bother to remove the blindfold sleep mask. “I’ll throw you out of bed, Asmo.” Satan warned. “You can try, Mr. Grumpy pants.” You heard something fly and land beside you with more force than expected from a pillow. “Ouch! My face you beast!”
“I have an idea, let’s play rock, pape-” You heard how Mammon’s soul and air left his body and lungs respectively. “Hey! Stop biting my leg, Belphie, I know you’re awake!” That had to be Levi. Your bed suddenly became a fighting ring where you couldn’t see anything, Beel’s arms were your only anchor in the middle of the chaos since no one dared to mess with him.
However, it all came to an end when the door opened.
Only his silhouette could be seen as the light outside hid him but everyone knew who he was, the way they stopped like scared opossums was proof of that. “Could you please explain what’s going on here?” But it was a protocol question, he already knew everything there was to know. In fact, since he started his daily routine check and found out that the twins’ room was empty, guessing the rest had been easy.
“Come here, Mc.” He took you from Beelzebub’s arms, surprising not only you but everyone. “Hey! Where are ya takin’em?” “Lucifer! It’s so not fair!” He carried you like a toddler, with your legs on either side and your arms around his neck. “Lucifer?” You asked, evidently a little taken aback by the turn of events. “Pffftt. They’re following us like a bunch of weirdos. Like a cult or something.” You yawned as you rested your head on his shoulder.
When Lucifer arrived to his room, you expected him to crash the door or cast a locking spell, but he just left you on the bed and asked Mammon to close the door. One by one they took a place on the bed, vaguely reminding you the image of a cat testing the ground. You expected more fights and disagreements, but instead the lights went out and you founded yourself lying comfortably on a spacious bed, surrounded by all of them in no time.
Something inside you, kept you awake. Lying on your back your eyes were glued to the ceiling and not even Belphie’s influence defeated your insomnia. “Close your eyes, Mc. You’re scaring me.” Mammon murmured in your ear but you shook your head. “I can’t.”
“I want to, I missed you all like you can’t even begin to imagine,” Your words were cut off when Satan interrupted you, “Not as much as we did.” You wanted to see him but it was too dark, you couldn’t even distinguish between them. Still, you were convinced everyone was wide awake.
“Nobody has never loved me like you.” You murmured, letting your confession sink softly into the room. “We had a rough start. Sc is right when she says that our love is somehow twisted. I’ve thought about it too, maybe loving you is a disease and I’m crazy because I reject the medicine.” Mammon hid his face in your neck, getting closer to you.
“But I love you despite logic or reason.” You felt your voice fail and took a deep breath before continuing. “It wasn't my fault. The Little D's.” Your speech, you noted, was becoming messy and incoherent, nothing like you have planned. “But I’ve decided that I can’t love you anymore if that can destroy you.”
The brothers had listened to you in apparent calm until they heard those words. They understand human values, principles and logic, even the way they conduct themselves too, but only to a certain point and more often than not you exceed it. They don’t want to lose you, not again, not ever. They would rather be Icarus than live in eternal darkness.
“We know it was the witch's fault.” Mammon said with no malice or resentment but with great desperation. “We weren’t trying to hurt you!” Belphie said, his voice sounded pained as if the words were cutting his mouth as they came out.
“I know, but you hurt me either way and I hurt you too!” You put a hand over your eyes, covering them. You felt Mammon’s tears on your neck and immediately felt guilty. He was one of the most affected, constantly fighting his guilt for he sees himself as your ‘failed protector’.
“Yes, Sc released them but she was trying to do her work. You were playing with her.”
“We weren’t.” Lucifer asseverated. “We wanted to know her intentions.” Satan added. “That's not the whole truth. You knew her intentions all along, you just wanted to destroy her plans and send a message.”
“And what message would that be?” Lucifer asked, and you could sense how it turned out defensive. “That you want the three worlds to coexist, yes, but on your own terms.”
A silence fell over the room as soon as you said it.
“Do you really think humans are ready to know about The Devildom?” Lucifer was the first to sit up. You followed him, trying to look at his face through the darkness. In that sense they had a clear advantage, although they could see you perfectly fine, you could only see a shadow, a copycat, an impersonator. “And why are you the ones who decide?”
“Answer me, Mc.” Lucifer pressed. Mammon sat up too, hugging you from behind and resting his head on your shoulder. “Of course we're not ready, but that didn't stop Diavolo from breaking into our world!”
Again, your words echoed in the silence of the room along with the muffled gasps of Levi and Asmo.
“This is what we were trying to avoid.” The Avatar of Pride said, he tried to leave the bed. Poor Asmo felt the air leaving his lungs when Lucifer pushed him out of his way.
“If you leave,” You said, your voice weak and weary. “If you leave now, I swear I'll go to the human world and I won't ever come back here. You will never see me again, not in this life.” Lucifer stopped short, you couldn’t see his face but his voice alone crushed your heart. “That’s cruel, Mc.”
“You don’t leave me any choice! You refuse to speak and I don’t want to pretend this never happened because it did and I’m scared because I don’t want to experience this again!”
“...”
“I can't see you, I'm the only one in this room who can't see in the dark. I'm only human. There are so many things I can't do compared to you, but I am not weak or stupid, I’m a sorcerer and the bridge between the three worlds.”
Lucifer had wanted to tell you the truth for a long time, but hearing you now, being able to see your resolve and the fire within your eyes made him regret his hesitation. Solomon knew it, and that’s why he was so arrogant all the time, he knew that humans can be dangerous too.
If only you knew, he wonders if you’d smile like the wise sorcerer.
“Don't underestimate us, look at me as your equal, this is an order.” You finished, looking at the white sheets and averting the brothers’ forms. “Love does not stand on uneven ground.”
All the brothers had seen what Lucifer saw, the strength and stubbornness that characterize humans, the promise to die fighting for what one loves and wasn’t that the reason they fell? Once again they came to the same conclusion, when it comes to love, demons, angels or humans are no different.
They too would die fighting for what they love and weren’t you the proof of that? Ever since you appeared in the Devildom you are equals, you don’t need more evidence than a mirror, even if you can’t realize it yet.
And if you were not her descendant you would still be one of the creatures she loved so much, and if she had never loved a human and they only knew you as a coincidence of fate you would still be you and that is more than enough for them to love you.
One by one, each of them joined you in a hug. Finally, the elephant in the room was as big as a mini Little D. “We were scared, at least I know I was. I wanted to protect you and also protect us, what we have” Satan said, speaking awkwardly like few times in his life.
“As the Great Admiral of Hell’s Navy I can tell you that we kept you out of this because we didn’t want to risk our sole reason to fight.” Leviathan’s eyes were closed, he was enjoying the clarity and courage that your soul was giving him. “We took the wrong route.” He added.
When the hug broke, you couldn’t shake the feeling that part of you had gone with them and part of them had stayed with you. “Stay by our side, please, allow us to show you our resolve.” The older brother took your hand, waiting for a response.
You suffered another huge, crushing hug when you gave them one.
***
Everyone was having a good time. The castle had never been more inviting, more homely. Lucifer and Mammon were fighting over the music while Luke tried to keep Beelzebub and Solomon out of the kitchen. Normality, once again.
“We are sorry, Mc. We promise they are our far, far, very distant cousins!” The Little D. number 2 said, he was mortified, constantly hiding from you and trying to announce his presence every time he appeared on the scene just so he wouldn't scare you.
“They're awful! A pest! we would never be like them!” The Little D. number 5 added, taking off his hat, his eyes were curved in a gesture that could not mean anything other than regret. “We would never hurt you!!” The Little D. number 6 murmured.
“Don't worry guys, I know you'd never hurt me. You are much kinder and more adorable than them.” You reassured them, patting the head of one of them.
“Of course they wouldn't hurt you, you’d mop the floor with them.” Barbatos said. Whether it was because of his words, his sadistic smile, or the mere fact that he was Barbatos, the Little D.'s ran as soon as he arrived.
“You shouldn't be so hard on them, you scare them.” One thing was true, even if they were family-friendly shaped, you still felt the need to be alert.
“Don't worry Mc, I assure you that I'm not, under any circumstance, stricter than necessary.” Barbatos watched the little demons going from one place to another, serving their guests as best as they could. “It must be difficult for you to look at them.”
“Are you perhaps testing me again?” You asked, so quietly that it was hidden by the music, only the butler heard you and even he had to read your lips to make sure. Barbatos was speechless. It was clear how angry you were but your words didn't match with your calm and steady voice, with your happy and carefree expression. You reminded him of a certain angel.
“I’m surprised you think I would do something so reckless.” He opted for a serious face, leaving behind his usual smile. “No?”
“No.”
“You saw me and those demons, didn't you? you knew what was happening and you did nothing. Why?” You asked, drinking the expensive liquid that could get a demon drunk but wouldn’t even tickle a human.
“Because that's not what you wanted.” Barbatos simply said, curious as to why it seems like you trust him even less than when you found out he had the power to alter the timelines. “Really?” You asked, incredulous.
“I don’t know why I can’t believe you,” You got closer to Barbatos, face to face, your eyes meeting his. “I don’t believe you. If I hadn’t defeated them, wouldn't you have changed the timelines again?”
Ah, a sensible question that hid more interrogatives of the same nature. He knew from the look in your eyes that it wasn’t the first time you’d asked yourself that. It was inevitable, you are a human.
Still, Barbatos couldn't pinpoint what was the ache inside him. He couldn't comprehend why he felt so utterly sad when you talked to him in that way, as if all his presence could offer you were headaches.
“But what am I saying? you didn't do anything because you knew I was going to win.” A part of Barbatos was surprised by how accusatory your voice sounded, maybe facing death gave you enough stupid courage to facing him. “I didn't know.” One brief look into your eyes and he knew your inner turmoil, asking yourself if you should believe him or not.
“I decided to wait and see.” Nobody was paying attention to what seem like a normal conversation but he still felt judged, sooner than later he realized why. In a way, you were scolding him and, in a way, he felt miserable. That was new for him too.
“Why?” You asked. “Because that's what you wanted.” He said and his smile found its way onto his lips again. You reminded him of Solomon before he became the wise sorcerer, how hopeless he was in the face of so much power. “Does that mean you trust me with all of this?” He didn’t have time to answer, you embraced him first, mumbling a feeble thank you.
He could only think one thing, for the way his heart skipped a beat, he should be careful around you.
You turned around and walked towards the brothers, little by little you felt how the war inside you subsided. Lucifer seemed calmer than ever tying Mammon from the highest candelabra. Leviathan and Luke were fighting over who should try Solomon’s dish first, Asmo and Satan laughing at them. Beelzebub devouring the entire menu and Belphie sleeping next to Lilith.
Lilith. You frowned, your eyebrows dropped and your eyes filled with unshed tears. As your lips trembled and your face etched with sadness, you lost sight of her. Before you could think it had been an illusion you felt like something you couldn’t see was hugging you. “You were right, I didn’t have to worry.” Lilith disappeared with a smile on her face and the wink of an eye, leaving you smiling.
Before you could reach the others, you heard a cacophony of screams and things breaking just a few steps away from you; All the Little D.s were chasing a little black ball no bigger than the palm of your hand. The Mini Little D. of Pride that had been captured in the magic bird cage.
He stood in front of you, raising and pointing an adorable finger at your face.
“You!” He screamed, and as laughable as it was, he looked angry.
You sighed, happier than ever. “Really, just get out of my way.”
This announcement pertains to the recent plagiarism incident that I've been dealing with behind the scenes. This announcement will contain the explanation in the form of a timeline, along with evidence (as much as I can provide given that Tumblr has an image limit) of the plagiarism and interactions, as well as what you can do to help. This post will be the interaction post, and you can find the other post of the evidence here:
Evidence post.
If you choose to help, thank you, and please make sure you read the entirety of the two posts for all the information and as I'd like to set some boundaries.
Before I explain the timeline, I would like to make it clear that it was my full intention to solve this privately and quickly. It was what I wanted since the beginning, but that has been made harder and harder, and now it is practically impossible. I did not want to go public, but I was compelled to do so.
Here is the rough timeline to understand the situation.
DECEMBER EIGHTH. I receive a message in my inbox notifying me that my work has been plagiarized. I check it out promptly, despite being busy. Sure enough, I find a story on Quotev that has multiple scenes that are far too similar to mine, with some words even being the same, but of course slightly adjusted probably to go under the radar. What I found even more preposterous, is the user followed me and still had this story posted.
I took some time to skim through the story, comparing scenes with mine. I have different tabs open, looking at each line and recognizing some lines and scenarios. After a bit of comparison, I came to the conclusion that it was indeed plagiarism. This was entirely new territory for me, as I don't remember if I had ever dealt with something like this before. Which is why I took this issue to a small server of writer mutuals where I received advice and feedback.
My main objective was to end the situation as quickly as possible, without any major drama or harsh words. There were no direct messages available on Quotev, so I had to resort to the comment section. I leave a comment on the copied story, detailing an explanation with dates provided and one of many examples being used to further my point. At the end of the comment, I ask them to delete the story.
Unfortunately, I did not think to take a screenshot of the comment I made, but I do have a copy of it from when I was typing it out in my notes. My comment on the copied story went something like this:
"Hello. I really did want did to be a private conversation, but due to the fact that Quotev has disabled private messages, this is the only way my message could get across.
My username, as you can see right above this comment, is ShinyJr. My story is Damnation, a Twisted Wonderland yandere series that bears a striking resemblance to yours. I would say it's a coincidence, but I really don't think it is based of the fact alone that you published this series in June of 2023 while I first published scenes of my story in December of 2022 from Tumblr then officially posted it on Quotev in January of 2023. It's an ongoing series of mine, which makes it more disheartening when I find a story such as this one that have blatantly copied both the premise and a vast majority of the scenes.
Not only this, but I also noticed several instances of potentially copied scenes from a mutual of mine and their own story, who I won't name as I don't speak for them. This just further proves that you deliberately copied others. If you need more proof of this, I will gladly provide it, as I gathered plenty of side by side comparisons. Just in case though, here are some comparisons I found:
1. MC is trying to think of how to manipulate the story. Up to this point, there are a lot of uncanny similarities, such as the MC waking up as the chieftain of the hyenas, Ruggie being the first one to greet them, climbing a cliffside and being surprising by Leona, the prince of the kingdom. But there's one line in the thought process which particularly caught my eye.
My version: The plot was moving forward. Leona needed the hyenas, he couldn’t complete the coup all on his own. So either way, with or without your approval, he would win the majority of the hyena-folk by his false good-will. You could reveal to Ruggie and the others that you weren’t who they thought you were, but that didn’t work before. Even if it did work this time, what then? Would they turn on you? Would they accept you but lower your standing in the ranks? Or would you be banished, die stranded in a hot desert where the vultures would peck at your remains? . . .
Your version: The plot was moving forward. Leona needed the hyenas, he couldn’t complete the coup all on his own. So either way, with or without your approval, he would win the majority of the hyena-folk by his false good-will. You could reveal to Ruggie and the others that you weren’t who they thought you were, but that didn’t work before. Even if it did work this time, what then? Would they turn on you? Would they accept you but lower your standing in the ranks? Or would you be banished, die stranded in a hot desert where the vultures would peck at your remains?
This is just one example of the many I found.
I ask that you please take down the story. Next time, if and when you decide to continue writing, do not copy. It's not a big request, it's just basic decency."
A few hours pass when I get word from a mutual that my comment was gone, and eventually, the user had disabled the entire comment section, leaving no evidence of my message and no way to speak to them. Meaning my comment was never responded to, and the user was trying to avoid responsibility.
With no other choice left, I report the story for plagiarism.
A few hours later, the story is gone completely but the account remained. I do not know if this happened by choice of the user as in they deleted it willingly or the report worked, but the story was gone. This was completely fine with me. I was content, as I thought that it was the end of things. Oh, I was so wrong.
DECEMBER NINTH. A mutual informs me that they found the same exact story under a new profile. Same cover, same notes, same everything. Looking into things, I discover that the user created an entirely new account just to avoid being caught, and put the story back up. Not only that, but they added notes on their account and the story that were clearly meant to be jabs at me. So you can probably understand the stress this was creating.
Here is the note that was found on the second version of the copied story. The username of the other writer is blacked out because I have not spoken to them and I do not want to involve them in drama they may want no part of.
Additionally, here is the second profile the user made just to post the story again. Take note of the words on their profile and how long the account was active, as well as how long ago the story had been posted.
This time, again, I had little choice but to report both the story and the new account. I did not want to comment on anything again in case I would be reported for harassment, so this was the safest option.
At this point, I considering going public with the information, but I really want to avoid this as it just makes the issue that much bigger and problematic. So, ultimately I push the idea aside.
A few hours later, the original account, the secondary account, and the copied story are again, gone. Gone entirely. Again, whether the reports worked or the user decided to call it quits, I have not a single clue. But surely, that must be the end of it, right? You would think so.
That same day, I was informed that this same copied story was on another site. Wattpad. I investigate, and sure enough, there it is. The same user, same story. This version had been up for a while and seemed relatively low activity.
This version is still up. Now, before anyone does anything, I ask you to please finish reading for all the details.
After discovering the profile, I decide to comment directly on the user's profile. This is one I do have screenshots to. My comment was very similar to the one I left on Quotev, but with some changes.
My comment:
Their reply:
My response:
Their answer:
Notice how there is no reply after that? That is because they blocked me before I could say anything else. They also chose to go to my profile on Wattpad and comment on a post I made two years ago. This comment was likely made sometime around the time they blocked me.
This is currently where things stand. Despite the report I have attempted to make, I am unable to do anything more because of the rules of Wattpad.
This is the part where I would ask you, my followers and readers, for help. If you have fully read both this evidence post and interaction post, and you are wondering if there is a way to help, yes, there is.
However, I want to remind everyone that I do not want anyone to spam or send outright hate. That is not what I want nor will it be useful.
If you would like to help, then please report the story and comment discouragement. Especially comment on the story, as I feel that this would be the most efficient method. If you wish to reblog, you may. Again, I stress this, DO NOT send any hate or spam! I am entirely serious on this point. I will block any users I find that are clearly hating or spamming the user on my behalf.
All I want is this to end as quickly as possible, so I can just get back to writing in peace. Please, and thank you for your time.
Mammon's voice rings in your ear, clearer than ever.
You can still hear him bickering about his latest scheme—the one you both had butted heads over—and then there was the mutual agreement of not telling Lucifer about its outcome.
Your eyes skim over the text in the screen, mind focused on the words, memory replaying over and over like a tape.
You ignore Barbatos's outstretched hand. And he lets you, not able to find it in himself to remind you, not wanting to interrupt what fleeting moments remain of you in this realm.
"MC," Solomon's voice is a whisper, meant to remind you gently of the situation. "It's time."
"Sorry," You blurt out, quickly closing your D.D.D. before handing it over to Barbatos. You don't look him in the eye when you do that. You fear your heart will crumble.
"Does this have to be?"
The Prince wishes he could refute what he had said earlier, but there is no other way. No other timeline where it does not end. No other timeline where you stay.
Perhaps all the timelines would have only led to once final outcome.
"What if they just stay? They are happy here, and hastening would only lead to future problems." Lucifer attempts to be the voice of reason, but even he knows that it is an exercise in futility. "Can....there be no other way?"
Your knees feel like they might just give out. Impending doom rests heavy in your stomach, clouding every thought, every action.
"I don't want to leave you all," You mutter, voice heavy. If you say the words out loud you're afraid you'll burst into tears. "You took my D.D.D. too, is it truly that bad?"
You feel the pactmarks growing faint.
You have always come back to the Devildom, always—with the knowledge that you would be back—whether by landing on Satan's head or babysitting seven overgrown babies. You have always come back, from the human realm or the past.
So why not now?
"I do not want you to leave, none of us want you to, but there is no other option. No other choice."
Diavolo's words seal your fate.
It wasn't supposed to go this way, it was—it was supposed to be you and everyone else going through each day like usual, not for this sudden news to come crashing down.
You fear you may never see them again.
A blur of purple catches your eye, and your feet try to escape before your mind can register; you're dragged into the portal by Time itself.
It's for the greater good.
Not for even the Prince of Hell or Heavenly beings to decide.
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You have a guilty pleasure: trashy villainess stories. So when you die a frankly, humiliating death, and end up in one of the worst ones you've had the pleasure of reading, you're in denial. Then the villain system shows up. Well, there goes your second chance at life
So what do you do now? Do villainous things and cause as much chaos as you can, of course. And maybe, just maybe, bag the male lead, Riddle Rosehearts while you're at it.
i had so much fun writing this, i hope you like it just as much!
First part in the series with Vil: here
You’ve had a week. Not just any week—a rough week. Work has been an absolute dumpster fire, deadlines have been chasing you like a pack of rabid wolves, and your responsibilities are piling up like a game of Jenga about to collapse. If someone were to ask how you’re doing, you’d just laugh maniacally and hope they’d back away slowly.
So, when you finally make it home, the first thing you do is collapse face-first onto your couch with all the grace of a dead fish. After a moment of just lying there, contemplating whether adulthood is some kind of elaborate prank, you do the one thing that always makes you feel better: grab your phone and open up your webnovel app.
You scroll through your favorites—ah yes, the classics. Trashy, absurd, villainess webnovels that are objectively terrible but subjectively amazing. You’re talking about the ones with titles like “I’m the Evil Duke’s Twisted Ex-Fiancée, But He Loves Me Now Because I Have Plot Armor!” or “My Death Flags Mean Nothing Because I Can Charm My Way Out of Everything (And Also, Dragons)”.
It’s like junk food for your brain. You know it’s not good for you. You know there are objectively better stories out there. But the drama, the ridiculous misunderstandings, the sheer stupidity of every character decision—it’s beautiful. It’s a hot mess, and you are the fly drawn to it.
Except this time, you somehow pick the worst one.
You don’t know if it’s because your standards are already on the floor and this one somehow dug under it, or if the exhaustion has finally gotten to you, but it’s bad.
The story is all over the place. The villainess is cartoonishly cruel, like she wakes up in the morning and thinks, “What heinous thing can I do today?” But sometimes, you swear she doesn’t even want to be that way. It’s like the author just decided, “Villainess = bad,” and put their brain to bed.
The plot? Oh, it’s a mess. The villainess and heroine are sisters—the real daughter of a Duke and the adopted, sweet angel who gets all the Duke’s affection. Naturally, they both fall for the same guy: Riddle Rosehearts, some prodigy with a complex about rules, order, and justice. Of course, the Duke arranges for his precious adopted daughter to marry Riddle, and the villainess? She flips out, does a bunch of cruel things (of course), and eventually gets herself killed in a totally overdramatic fashion.
Okay, typical villainess plot so far. Nothing new there.
But the worst part? The treatment of poor Riddle. It’s like he’s just a toy to be fought over. The sisters practically claim ownership of him like he’s a fancy handbag. Then, once the villainess is conveniently eliminated, the author gives Riddle this tragic backstory. Harsh childhood, crazy controlling mom—you know, the works. You brace yourself for the resolution, for him to rise above his traumaand find happiness.
Nope. His trauma is treated like a joke. Nothing gets resolved. He’s just stuck in this gilded cage, with the heroine taking over as the new warden. And somehow, that’s supposed to be the happy ending?
It’s horrible. It’s nonsensical. It’s everything you could want right now.
You should stop. You know you should stop. But the sheer absurdity of it has you in its grasp.
And you don't even want to think about the love decagon. Yes, decagon. There are 9 men dying over this heroine who has the personality of rusty spoon.
You snort, your laughter echoing through your empty apartment. It’s awful. It’s brain-rotting, cringe-inducing garbage.
You love it.
The plot is hanging on by a thread, and yet, there you are, fully committed. You don’t need quality writing, deep themes, or even consistent character motivations. What you need is to watch this trainwreck unfold until the bitter end, and you’ll be damned if you don’t see it through.
But that’s when the universe decides to kick you in the teeth. In a sequence of events so absurd you couldn’t make it up if you tried, you—oh, wait for it—die. And not in some grand, noble fashion, either. You slip on some residual shampoo on your bathroom floor, and fall face first onto a tap. Ouch.
Really?
Out of all the dramatic, swoon-worthy ways to die, like saving a kitten from a burning building or sacrificing yourself for someone you loved, you went out like a fool. A shower slip. One minute you’re standing, and the next, you’re faceplanting like some poorly executed slapstick scene.
And then, boom. Everything went black.
Which brings you to now. You feel odd. The texture of the sheets beneath you isn’t quite right. They’re silkier than the cheap cotton sheets you usually wrapped yourself in before bed. The air smells... different too. Not to mention, the bed feels way bigger, and you’re nestled in something way too plush to be your beat-up old mattress.
You bolt upright, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the room. You squint around and your eyes widen. This is… not your room. Gone are the band posters, the laundry in the corner, and your trusty alarm clock with the missing buttons. Instead, you’re surrounded by opulence: heavy velvet drapes, an intricately carved wooden dresser, and a huge vanity covered in jewels.
Your heart drops.
Slowly, you lift your hands. They are... not your hands. These are dainty, perfectly manicured hands. No chewed-off nails. No pen smudges from your hours of work. Just smooth, perfect fingers, topped off with the exact kind of expensive manicure you'd normally cringe at paying for.
No. Fucking. Way.
Frantically, you throw the blankets off yourself and scramble to the nearest mirror. What you see staring back at you isn’t your own reflection.
“Oh. My. God.”
You’ve been isekai’d. Into a webnovel.
And not just any webnovel. No. The terrible one you’d been reading before your humiliating death. You’re in the body of the villainess, the character who was basically a walking disaster from beginning to end. Not to mention, she was set to die a very messy, very public death within a few weeks.
“Oh god. I’m screwed.” You pace around the room in a panic, wringing your hands together. “How am I supposed to survive this? I can’t be a villainess! I don’t even like drama!”
You glance around desperately for something, anything that will give you some semblance of control over the situation. This can’t be happening. Maybe this is all a weird dream? You pinch yourself. Hard.
“Ow.” Nope. Definitely not a dream. Just your reality. Fantastic.
Then, you spot it. A glowing screen, floating mid-air right next to your head.
The classic system menu, like the ones from every villainess isekai you’ve read.
Except, instead of comforting you, this one makes you want to scream. Because in glaring red letters, it says:
“Villainess System Activated! Complete your tasks or face severe consequences.”
You blink. “Consequences?”
A new notification pops up, smug as hell. “Severe punishment will be dealt if you fail your villainous duties."
Oh, great. You’re trapped in a parody of an isekai where you not only have to survive as the villainess, but also complete quests like some twisted game. Lovely.
You stare at the system menu. “This is going to be fine,” you mutter, trying to convince yourself. “I just have to do the opposite of whatever got this chick killed. Just... stop being a jerk, right?”
But no sooner do you say that when the system blinks and pops up your first quest:
“System: Ruin Lady Heron’s Garden Party. Reward: 50 Villain Points.”
Are you kidding me?
You groan, rubbing your temples. “Okay, but hear me out,” you say to the system like it’s a person you can negotiate with. “What if I ruin it... with a compliment? Like, I tell her that her flower arrangements are so beautiful that she faints from the shock?”
The system’s reply is immediate: “Invalid. Must complete task in line with villainess behavior.”
“Oh, come on!” You pace the room again, muttering under your breath. “Fine. You wanna play it like this? I can play.” You crack your knuckles. “We’ll see who outsmarts who.”
The next hour passes in a whirlwind of panicked planning. You’ve read enough villainess novels to know the basic rules: never do what you’re supposed to do, but always make it look like you are. It’s malicious compliance at its finest.
So, when you arrive at Lady Heron’s garden party, dressed to kill (because apparently that’s a thing villainesses do), you’ve already concocted your plan.
The system wants you to ruin the event? Fine. But you’ll do it your way. You compliment Lady Heron’s flowers with the fakest smile you can muster, pouring on the charm. You gush about her decorations until she’s practically glowing, all while subtly steering the conversation away from the usual petty gossip that gets the villainess in trouble.
Instead of sabotaging the food, you pretend to be horrified when the catering staff makes a small mistake, swooping in to save the day and looking like a hero in the process. And as for the “accidental” tripping of the host’s dress that was supposed to happen? You deftly catch her instead, earning surprised gasps from the crowd.
By the end of it, the system’s fuming, and you’re basking in the glory of having completed your “villainous task” without actually being villainous.
Malicious compliance for the win, you think smugly.
The system didn't like your attitude and it wants it to be known.
"System: Next quest: Defeat the chicken in the garden."
No problem, right? It wasn’t like you were going up against a raging dragon or anything. It was just a chicken. A harmless little chicken.
Wrong.
You found yourself standing in a dusty barn, staring down the most demonic creature you’d ever seen—a puffed-up, red-eyed chicken with an attitude problem. This thing wasn’t just any chicken; it looked like it had gone ten rounds with a tiger and won. Twice.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you muttered under your breath, rolling up your sleeves as the chicken fluffed its feathers like it was about to brawl. You eyed it warily. It eyed you back, and for a second, you swore you saw flames in its eyes.
"System: Quest update: —Defeat the Chicken of Doom!"
Chicken of Doom? You squinted at the thing. “You could’ve warned me, you know.”
"System: Where’s the fun in that?"
The chicken let out an ear-splitting squawk and lunged at you like a tiny, feathered fury. You dodged, barely, as it pecked the air where your face had been a moment earlier. This was no ordinary chicken. This thing had skills.
You scrambled out of the way, trying to think of a strategy that didn’t involve you getting pecked into oblivion. “System! Any tips here?”
"System: Aim for the legs. That’s where the power is."
The legs? You glanced down at the chicken’s scrawny legs. “I’m pretty sure it’s coming for my face, not my ankles!”
"System: Well, you could always just run. But that’s not very villainous, is it?"
“Oh, you are the worst,” you grumbled as the chicken made another wild leap for your head. You ducked, grabbed a nearby rake, and swung it around like a makeshift sword. “Alright, chicken. Let’s dance.”
What followed was an embarrassing display of you flailing around the barn, trying to fend off this demonic poultry with a rake while the system laughed at you from the sidelines.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of dodging and weaving, you managed to hook the rake around one of its legs, pulling it off balance. The chicken flopped onto its back, flailing wildly as it squawked in outrage. You quickly pinned it down with the back-end of the take, panting heavily.
You glared at the system’s message. “I better get more than 100 points for this. I deserve a medal.”
"System: How about the satisfaction of knowing you just defeated the Chicken of Doom?"
You groaned, wiping sweat from your forehead. “Next time you send me on a quest, can it be against something less likely to murder me? Like a butterfly?”
"System: No promises. But look on the bright side—you’re officially undefeated in chicken combat. And you now are +50 Villain points richer"
“Fantastic,” you deadpanned, finally letting the defeated chicken hobble away with its dignity intact. “Just what I always wanted to be known for.”
You walked out of that barn a little wiser, a little bruised, and a lot more wary of small farm animals. From that day forward, chickens were officially your sworn enemies.
Villain points: 100
You were still in denial that you were in that novel. But what's a better wakeup call than running into the main lead? The guy who the story revolves around, Riddle Rosehearts.
You had decided to take a stroll in the academy's gardens when a loud squeaking noise caught your attention.
Turning the corner, you stumbled upon a scene that confirmed your worst fears: Riddle Rosehearts, was hunched over a small enclosure, tending to a couple of prickly hedgehogs.
“What in the world…?” you muttered, leaning in closer. Riddle was meticulously checking their little habitats, his brow furrowed in concentration. You had to admit, he looked oddly cute.
As you watched, one of the hedgehogs—who seemed to have more ambition than sense—decided to attempt an escape. It made a daring leap right off the side of the table, and you could practically hear the collective gasp of the students around you. Time slowed as you saw the tiny creature plummet toward the ground.
No!
Without thinking, you launched yourself forward, arms outstretched, preparing to catch the little spiky ball of chaos. You almost made it, but instead of a graceful landing, you miscalculated and ended up face-first in a pile of fallen leaves, with a hedgehog landing right on your back.
Riddle’s eyes widened in shock. “What are you doing?!”
With the hedgehog squirming atop you, you tried to push yourself up. “Just… saving this little guy,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. The hedgehog seemed to be enjoying the view from its leafy throne, completely unfazed by the near disaster.
“Are you okay?” Riddle asked, half-concerned, half-amused as he stepped closer. You could see a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, which was both infuriating and endearing.
“Yeah, just a minor case of heroism!” you replied, attempting to sound cool while still half-buried in leaves. “No big deal. Just saving lives one hedgehog at a time.”
The students around you started whispering, some trying to hold back laughter. Riddle, however, seemed genuinely impressed, his cheeks turning a shade of red that almost matched his hair. “Uh… thank you?” he said, fumbling for words. “That was… very quick thinking.”
As you finally managed to roll over, the hedgehog took that moment to scuttle off your back, plopping down on the ground with a little thud. You turned to Riddle, brushing leaves off your shirt. “Yeah, well, it’s what I do best. Hedgehog rescuer by day, unremarkable student by night.”
Riddle blinked, processing your words while his face continued to betray a mix of flustered admiration and confusion. “You… you look quite cool doing that,” he said, almost to himself, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.
You smirked, enjoying the moment. “Cool? Well, thank you.”
Riddle opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly flustered. “Right… um, thank you again. I usually prefer to do everything by the book, but you… you have a knack for chaos.”
“Just trying to shake things up a bit!” you replied, grinning. “Besides, what’s life without a little excitement?”
His face turned an even deeper shade of red, and for a moment, you thought he might actually explode. “Excitement is… not exactly my strong suit,” he admitted with a seriousness that almost made you laugh.
Just then, Cater called out, “Hey, Riddle, are you blushing over there?”
Riddle straightened up, all business once more. “I am not blushing!” he snapped, though it only made the others laugh harder.
You couldn’t help but chuckle yourself. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it’s very becoming.”
At this point, he was trying desperately to regain his composure, his usual dignified self crumbling under the unexpected twist of fate. “Right, well… um, thanks for your help,” he stammered, trying to pivot back to his hedgehogs as if that would restore some order to his day.
“Anytime!” you replied cheerfully, already plotting your next move in this wild webnovel world. After all, you might just have to become the chaotic force that turns Riddle’s world upside down.
As you left him there, you couldn’t help but think—yup, you were definitely in that webnovel. And you were not hating it.
"System: New quest: Sabotage the dinner. +100 points"
Oh this was a quest you were willing to do even if the system didn't ask you to. All you need to do was question your darling sister's yapping and you'll be set.
The dinner is going about as smoothly as you’d expect a social gathering could in this godforsaken story. Which is to say, not smooth at all.
You’re sitting at a long, polished table that looks like it’s seen better days—probably because it's held together by the sheer willpower of outdated noble customs. Your dear sister, the illustrious heroine of the world, is seated at the opposite end of the table, positively glowing in her usual self-absorbed way, surrounded by a gaggle of male leads that have somehow become entangled in her web of charm. Including, of course, the third male lead, a guy whose name you don’t even care to remember, but who keeps giving you condescending looks from across the table.
Your father, seated next to her, is smiling like he’s watching his favorite child perform in a school play. Every time the heroine opens her mouth, he’s doting on her with embarrassing enthusiasm, nodding along like she’s spewing pearls of wisdom when, in reality, it’s more like dribbling out some very glittery, very ignorant garbage.
“Oh, Father,” your sister begins, in that overly sweet, almost nauseating voice of hers. “Did you know that dandelions are actually a type of flower? Most people mistake them for weeds, but I just find them so fascinating.”
You internally groan. Seriously? Dandelions? That’s the big revelation she’s bringing to the table tonight?
Your father beams at her, his eyes twinkling as if she’s just solved world hunger. “My dear, you’re so clever. It’s amazing how much you know!”
Ace, seated next to you, nearly spits out his water. You glance at him and catch the barely-restrained laughter on his face, which only makes you want to snicker along with him.
You give him a look that says "brace yourself."
You lean forward slightly, your face the picture of politeness, and say with a small smile, “Well, technically, dandelions are considered invasive species in most gardens. I suppose calling them ‘fascinating’ is one way of putting it.”
Your sister blinks at you, clearly confused by the subtle jab, while Trey—who’s seated beside Riddle—hides his smirk behind a delicate sip of wine. You catch a glint of amusement in Riddle’s eyes as well. Even he seems to be enjoying this trainwreck.
The heroine, though, refuses to let her utter lack of botanical knowledge slow her down. “Oh, well, I was just trying to emphasize how misunderstood they are! Like, did you know dandelion tea is supposed to help with digestion?”
You can’t help yourself. “Is that why you’ve been so full of it lately?”
There’s a loud snort from Cater, who quickly covers it up with a cough, but not before giving you an encouraging grin. Deuce’s shoulders shake as he tries to hold back laughter, while Ace is full-on grinning at the chaos you’re creating. Trey is still playing it cool, but you know he’s on the verge of losing it too.
Your sister pouts at you, her lower lip trembling like she’s about to burst into tears. Oh, here we go. The waterworks. But honestly, you’re not about to feel guilty for calling her out when she practically walked into it.
“You always have to be so mean to me,” she whines, her voice wobbling dramatically. “I was just trying to have a nice conversation!”
Your father, predictably, jumps to her defense. “Now, now,” he says, giving you a stern look. “There’s no need to be so harsh with your sister.”
Harsh? Oh, please. If this is what he considers harsh, he clearly hasn’t spent much time around actual harsh people. Not that you’re about to say that aloud, of course.
“Apologies, Father,” you say, trying to keep your tone as neutral as possible while still dripping with passive-aggression. “I’ll be sure to keep my comments to myself next time.” You pause for a beat, and then add with a pointed look, “Unless, of course, they’re about real flowers.”
Cater and Ace lose it, full-on laughing at this point, and Deuce isn’t far behind. Even Trey is chuckling softly into his drink.
And then—oh, wait, is that a smile on Riddle’s face?
It is.
Holy crap.
For the first time since this disaster of a dinner started, you see a genuine smile tugging at Riddle Rosehearts’ lips. It’s small, but it’s there. And it’s directed at you.
Well, well, well, you think. Who knew I’d get the tiniest bit of amusement out of the stoic redhead tonight?
Riddle’s mother, who has been sitting quietly at the head of the table this whole time, seems to notice as well. She raises an eyebrow at you, and while she doesn’t say anything, the slight nod of approval she gives is as close to praise as you’re ever going to get from her.
Meanwhile, your sister has resorted to dabbing her eyes with a napkin, and the third male lead looks like he’s about ready to crawl under the table and disappear. Honestly, with the way his face is turning red, you wouldn’t be surprised if he just bolted for the door.
As the heroine sniffles dramatically, trying to regain her composure, Riddle’s mother clears her throat. “Perhaps it’s time we moved on to the next course.”
You sit back in your chair, feeling rather pleased with yourself. You’ve always known how to work a room, but this? This was practically a performance art piece. A subtle roast of the dinner party’s most insufferable members, all without breaking a sweat.
Trey gives you a subtle thumbs-up from across the table, Cater is still grinning like an idiot, and Ace is wiping tears from his eyes. Even Deuce looks like he’s enjoying himself more than usual.
And Riddle? He’s still smiling.
All in all, you’d call this a successful dinner.
"System: +100 points"
Villain Points: 200
You reached a compromise with the system during a mind numbingly boring tea party. You were doing your best to sit there with a polite smile plastered on your face while your sister droned on about her latest dress, but all you could think about was the fact that there were probably better uses of your time—like, say, literally anything else. Maybe you could fake a sudden illness and make a run for it? Or trip over a conveniently placed teacup and disappear into the shrubbery?
And that’s when you heard it.
"System: New Quest—Make it through this tea party without falling asleep. Reward: Not looking like a complete fool."
You almost snorted out loud, but quickly caught yourself. Great, the system is back at it again with these stellar rewards.
Gee, thanks, system. Truly motivating stuff.
"System: Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want something better? How about I throw in 50 Villain Points?"
Your eyes widened. Wait, 50 Villain Points just for not dozing off during this boring nonsense?
"System: Well, technically, you just have to stay awake. I never said you couldn’t look bored out of your mind."
You grinned slightly, trying to hide your amusement behind your teacup. You’re starting to grow on me, you know that?
"System: Likewise. I must say, I didn’t expect someone like you to actually stick with me this long. Most people would’ve either ignored me or gotten themselves killed by now. But you? You’ve got potential."
Aw, stop, you’re gonna make me blush.
"System: I’m serious! You’ve got guts. You think outside the box. You’re not afraid to bend the rules a little. And that’s why I’ve got a proposition for you."
You leaned back in your chair, intrigued. Oh? Go on, I’m listening.
"System: Here’s the deal—I’ll start giving you quests that aren’t designed to get you killed or humiliated beyond repair. In exchange, you have to promise to actually follow through on them. And I don’t mean half-heartedly—I want 100% commitment. Deal?"
Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying you’ve been giving me death traps this whole time?
System: Well… not death traps, per se. More like… character-building exercises.
I swear to God, system, if you ever make me fight a rabid chicken again—
"System: That chicken was a necessary evil! Character development! But fine, fine. No more chickens. Only reasonable, non-lethal missions from now on. What do you say? Partners in villainy?"
You tapped your chin, pretending to mull it over. Hmmm… sounds tempting. But what’s in it for me besides the joy of your sparkling company?
"System: Oh, you know, the usual—power, influence, fame, and fortune. Plus, I’ll throw in some juicy blackmail material for when your sister inevitably gets on your nerves again."
Your grin widened. Now that is the kind of offer I can’t refuse.
"System: That’s the spirit! Now, first mission as my official partner: Sabotage your sister’s next grand entrance. Nothing too catastrophic—just a little stumble, maybe some ruffled feathers. Keep it classy."
And just like that, you and the system were officially besties. It was weirdly comforting knowing you had a sarcastic AI watching your back—and occasionally messing with your enemies. Sure, it might’ve been the weirdest friendship ever forged in the history of villainy, but hey, you’d take it. You’d never be bored again with this delightful chaos agent in your corner.
As you left the tea party with your head held high, the system chimed in one last time.
"System: By the way, next time your sister brags about her shoes? “Accidentally” mention that those went out of fashion last season."
You smirked. Oh, system, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
+50 points, + 1 extremely powerful ally.
Villain points: 250
It was supposed to be a peaceful afternoon. You had gone into the library looking for a quiet place to relax after a long day of trying to stay out of family drama. But of course, there was Riddle, hunched over a mountain of books with his hands gripping his hair like it had personally wronged him. Not to mention, your sister was sitting nearby, yammering on about… something. Something that was definitely not helping Riddle’s clear state of panic.
As soon as you walked in, your eyes locked with his, and in that instant, you could practically hear his brain screaming for help. It was a silent plea, one you couldn’t ignore.
With a sigh and a bit of a smirk, you sauntered over, interrupting your sister’s endless tirade about her latest frivolous pursuit. “Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” you said brightly, grabbing Riddle by the arm and pulling him up from his chair before he could protest.
Your sister blinked at you, clearly thrown off by your sudden intrusion. “Excuse me, we were in the middle of an important conversation—”
“Were you though?” You raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure Riddle needs a break. He’s been studying for hours, right?” You didn’t wait for an answer, instead giving Riddle a quick nudge. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air.”
To your relief (and amusement), Riddle offered no resistance, letting you whisk him away from the library and your sister’s insufferable voice.
Once you were safely in one of the quieter gardens, Riddle sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know how much more of that I could’ve handled. Thank you.”
“No problem. Honestly, I did it for my own sanity too,” you chuckled, leading him to a bench under a shady tree. “But seriously, you look like you haven’t slept in days.”
Riddle’s face flushed a bit as he glanced away. “I’ve been… focused. There’s a lot to cover.”
“Yeah, I can see that,” you replied dryly, nudging him to sit down. “But if you don’t rest, you’re going to burn out. Even someone like you can’t run on fumes forever.”
He hesitated for a moment but eventually sat down, clearly too tired to argue. “I suppose you’re right…”
Riddle leaned back against the bench, his eyes fluttering closed for just a moment. You thought he’d sit there for a few minutes, maybe catch his breath, and that’d be it.
Except he didn’t just catch his breath.
Nope.
Instead, Riddle Rosehearts, the pristine, perfectly poised model student… fell asleep on your shoulder.
And you? You froze.
Oh no.
Oh God.
What do I do?!
Your mind spiraled as you sat there, staring at the top of his bright red head resting comfortably against you. You were acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressed against your side, his quiet, steady breathing, the softness of his hair—
Wait. Why is his hair so soft? It’s like spun silk.
Does he use some kind of magic conditioner? Should I ask him for hair care tips?
No, focus! Focus!
You peeked down at him again, and he looked so peaceful, his usual stern expression completely relaxed. You could feel your heart racing, and the logical part of your brain screamed at you to keep it together, but the other half—the half that was currently hyper-aware of Riddle’s head resting on your shoulder—was completely losing it.
Is this what bliss feels like? Is this how people write poems? “Oh Riddle, how thou art like the setting sun, warm and brilliant yet—WAIT, what am I thinking?! I am losing my mind! THIS IS BAD!
But also… very, very good?
You glanced around nervously, wondering if someone might see this. Would this look weird to people? Am I weird for not moving? I can’t move. He’s asleep. If I move, he’ll wake up and think I’m a weirdo for staying so still and letting him nap on me like this. Oh God, what if he thinks I’m weird?!
But even as your brain launched into a full-blown existential crisis, you couldn’t deny how nice this felt. Riddle looked so soft—so vulnerable—and for once, he wasn’t burdened by the weight of expectations or responsibilities. He was just… Riddle. And that made something inside you feel oddly tender.
Your gaze softened as you looked at him. Maybe this isn't so bad. Maybe I could get used to this. Maybe—
Then, without warning, Riddle stirred, shifting slightly before blinking his eyes open. He looked groggy for a second, but as soon as he realized where he was—where you were—his entire face turned scarlet.
“Ah!” he gasped, jerking upright. “I—! I didn’t mean to—! I—!”
You blinked at him, trying very hard to pretend that you hadn’t just gone through a whole mental rollercoaster while he was napping. “Uh… it’s fine. You were tired. Happens to the best of us.”
He quickly straightened his uniform, flustered beyond belief. “That was… highly inappropriate. I apologize. You must think I’m terribly uncouth.”
“Nah,” you said with a grin, waving him off. “You’re a hard worker. Even someone like you deserves a break.”
Riddle looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment. “Still, I shouldn’t have—"
You laughed and patted his shoulder. “Relax. It was kinda cute, honestly.”
He looked at you with wide eyes, his blush deepening. “C-cute?”
Realizing what you just said, your face turned bright red. “Uh, yeah, like… in a respectable, admirable way, obviously! Because, you know, falling asleep is… healthy… and stuff.”
From behind you, you heard Ace’s familiar snicker, and you turned to see him and Deuce standing there, both of them with identical grins.
“You’re totally simping,” Ace teased, wiggling his eyebrows.
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my God, go away.”
Riddle coughed, straightening his back and trying very hard to regain his composure. “Ahem. I think I’ll… return to my studies. Thank you again for helping me earlier.”
He stood up, still looking mildly mortified, but as he walked away, you caught the faintest smile on his lips.
Ace elbowed you with a grin. “You’ve got it bad.”
“Shut up,” you grumbled, your face still burning as you watched Riddle leave.
But deep down, you couldn’t stop smiling either.
You sit at the breakfast table, staring at the notification hovering just above your coffee.
"System: New Quest: Get your sister to humiliate herself in front of the Empress. Reward: 100 Villain Points."
Your sister, ever the radiant queen of smugness, lounges at the other end, flipping her hair like she’s about to step onto a runway. Her latest self-important monologue about being 'practically irreplaceable' in the Empress’s inner circle grates at your nerves.
“What’s with the face?” Ace flops into the seat next to you, raising an eyebrow at your sudden, murderous glare.
Deuce, ever the responsible one, follows, setting down his tray with a clink. “You alright? You’ve been quiet.”
You groan, rubbing your temples. “I got stuck with… a task.”
Ace snickers. “What, the world’s worst chore or something?”
You glance at your sister, now preening at her reflection in a spoon, and mutter, “Worse. I need to make her humiliate herself in front of the Empress.”
Both Ace and Deuce freeze, staring at you in disbelief.
Ace nearly snorts his drink. “You—wait, what? You have to do that?” His eyes practically light up. “That’s hilarious.”
Deuce, always the voice of reason, frowns. “Why do you need to do that? That sounds kinda… extreme.”
You sigh, trying to keep it vague. “Let’s just say... it’s a long story. But trust me, it’ll be worth it.”
Ace leans back, grinning like he’s just been given front-row tickets to the chaos. “Oh, I am so in. We have to take down the drama queen? Say no more.”
Deuce hesitates, but after a glance at your sister—who’s loudly bragging about her upcoming meeting with the Empress—he sighs. “I guess if it’s for a good cause... she could use a little humility.”
“Perfect.” You clap your hands together, a plan already forming. “But it has to look natural. No obvious sabotage.”
Ace smirks. “You say that like I’m not an expert in ‘subtle.’”
The banquet is set in a lavish garden, with your sister already dressed in the most elaborate gown she could find. She looks like she’s ready to steal the spotlight—and she fully intends to. But you’re three steps ahead. As you, Ace, and Deuce trail behind her, you start whispering the plan. “She always does that thing where she stands up to give a toast in front of everyone, right?”
Deuce nods. “Yeah, she loves being the center of attention.”
You glance at Ace. “Think you can handle making sure her ‘center of attention’ moment doesn’t go as planned?”
Ace grins wickedly. “Leave it to me.”
Your sister, in all her glittering glory, steps up to the platform. The Empress and her courtiers watch on, curious, while your sister clears her throat, preparing to launch into one of her legendary speeches.
Ace winks at you, positioning himself near the platform’s support. With the lightest nudge, it shifts, just enough to unbalance your sister. As she stands, her heel catches on the uneven surface.
Her eyes widen. “Wha—?”
And down she goes, arms flailing dramatically as she tumbles straight into a nearby fountain.
There’s a collective gasp from the crowd, and the Empress looks mildly surprised as water splashes everywhere. Your sister, soaked and sputtering, looks utterly mortified.
Ace bites his lip to keep from laughing. “Oops.”
Deuce winces but nods. “Well... that worked.”
You can’t help the satisfied smirk tugging at your lips as your system pings again.
“Perfect,” you murmur under your breath, already thinking about the next quest.
As your sister sputters her way out of the fountain, dripping wet and desperately trying to regain her composure, the crowd falls into an awkward silence. You can practically hear her brain scrambling to salvage the moment.
She forces a bright smile, pushing wet hair out of her face. “Well, that was… unexpected,” she says, laughing nervously. “I suppose even the most poised among us can have a moment of... gracelessness”
The Empress raises a perfectly arched brow, but remains silent, watching with a cool, unreadable expression.
Your sister, in her panic, decides to fill the silence with her usual brand of arrogance. “I’m sure someone will fix that platform,” she says, waving a hand dismissively at the servants. “Honestly, who would set up something so poorly constructed? I could’ve been seriously hurt!” She glances at the Empress and adds, in a misguided attempt to flatter, “But of course, I suppose even the Empress’s court isn’t immune to such… minor mistakes.”
Ace and Deuce both freeze. Your stomach drops.
The Empress’s lips tighten just slightly, a subtle but dangerous shift. “Minor mistakes?” she repeats, her voice icy and sharp.
Your sister, utterly clueless, laughs again, louder this time, still trying to brush it off. “Oh, of course, not your fault, Your Majesty. I’m sure your staff just… overlooked something. It happens, right?”
The crowd’s collective inhale is deafening. Even Deuce slaps a hand to his forehead, muttering, “Oh no…”
Ace looks like he’s about to choke trying to hold back his laughter. “She’s done,” he whispers gleefully.
The Empress finally stands, her gaze narrowing on your sister. “I assure you,” she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “such oversights are very rare in my court.”
Your sister opens her mouth to respond, but there’s no coming back from this. The Empress has already turned away, addressing one of her advisors with a wave of dismissal. Your sister is left standing there, soaked and utterly humiliated, in front of everyone.
As the system pings again in your head— "System: Bonus Quest Complete: Cause a Major Faux Pas. Reward: 50 Villain Points"—you can’t help but smirk.
"Well," Ace leans in, whispering, "mission accomplished."
As you watch your sister fumble through an awkward curtsy, trying to salvage what little dignity she has left, the familiar ping of the system goes off in your head again—but this time, it sounds... different.
Before you can fully register the notification, the system continues, breaking its usual monotone, deadpan style.
"System: Honestly..." there's a brief pause, like it's trying to hold back a laugh. "I have to hand it to you. This... this was beautiful. I mean, wow, top-tier humiliation. The look on her face? Priceless. I didn’t think you had it in you to pull off such magnificent chaos so effortlessly. Not to mention the insult to the Empress."
Another chuckle—this time, you can feel it reveling in the scene.
"System: You're really becoming quite the villain, huh? I’m almost impressed. Well, because you've reached a new level of villainy—and honestly, you’ve earned it—here’s a special perk. You hit 1,000 points, and I’ll give you an out. You can get rid of me. Completely. No more schemes, no more quests. Freedom from this system."
For a moment, you can barely believe it. The system’s offering you a way out?
"System: Oh, but until then, I’m not going anywhere. And really, wouldn’t it be a shame to stop now? You’re on such a roll."
You shake your head, but even you can't deny the chaos was a little satisfying. Your sister, now the talk of the court, dripping with embarrassment, is living proof of that.
"What's up?" Ace asks, glancing at you. "You look like you just won something."
"Yeah," you mutter under your breath, smirking. "Something like that."
Villain Points: 500. 500 points to freedom.
The test results had come out earlier today and Riddle had topped it, as usual. But he was not allowed to come celebrate with the rest of you, which has led here.
It’s late at night, and the manor is quiet—eerily quiet, except for the soft rustling of leaves outside Riddle's window. You stand beneath the window with a strawberry tart in your hands, feeling very much like a strange version of a fairy-tale hero. Except, instead of rescuing a damsel in distress, you're here to sneak contraband dessert to an overworked boy whose mother monitors his sugar intake like a hawk.
"Riddle!" you whisper-shout up to the second floor. "Let down your hair—uh, I mean, your bedsheets!"
There’s a pause before Riddle’s head pops out of the window, confused but intrigued. "What are you doing out there? It’s late."
"Shhh!" You gesture for him to keep it down, holding up the tart like it’s some sort of forbidden treasure. "I brought you a strawberry tart. Your mom might have banned it, but we live dangerously in this house."
Riddle’s eyes widen, and for a moment, you think he might actually tear up. "You... You risked sneaking a tart past Mother... for me?" He looks genuinely touched, and you can see the internal battle raging between his desire to stay obedient and his deep, insatiable love for strawberry tarts.
"Yes, I am willing to defy the Tart Tyrant for you," you say, nodding solemnly. "Now hurry up and lower the bedsheets before she finds out and decides to have me beheaded for dessert-related treason."
Riddle hesitates for just a second, but the lure of the forbidden pastry is too strong. After a moment, he vanishes from the window, only to return with a neatly tied set of bedsheets. He throws them down like some kind of serious, rule-abiding Rapunzel.
You take a second to appreciate the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, then quickly tie the tart to the end of the sheet rope. “Alright, here comes the goods!” You give the bedsheets a tug to let him know the package is secured.
With a little effort, Riddle pulls up the tart with the same solemnity you’d expect if he were receiving an ancient royal artifact instead of sugar-laden contraband. He gingerly unties the tart and holds it in his hands, staring at it like it's the most precious thing he's ever seen.
You then somehow use the bedsheets to get up there too. Wow maybe you are truly a fairy-tale hero.
"You truly are remarkable," Riddle says, his voice soft with gratitude. He turns his gaze toward you with such an earnest expression that you suddenly feel self-conscious.
You wave him off, trying to play it cool. "Eh, it's nothing. Just saving you from a tartless existence."
But instead of saying anything, Riddle leans down and, with the utmost care and sincerity, presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand, like some sort of old-fashioned gentleman. "Thank you," he murmurs.
And that’s when it happens.
Your brain shuts down. Completely. Like someone pulled the plug on your thoughts and left you staring blankly into space. The only thing running through your head is static. You don't even register the tart anymore. Did he just—? Did Riddle Rosehearts just—?
You short-circuit so hard that your mouth moves, but nothing coherent comes out. “Guh... buh... uh...” Great. So much for playing it cool.
Riddle, ever the gentleman, doesn’t seem to notice your malfunction, as he’s too busy taking the tiniest, most delicate bite of the tart, savoring it like he’s trying to make it last forever. "Delicious," he whispers, clearly over the moon.
Meanwhile, you’re still stuck on the whole hand kiss thing. Did that actually just happen? Did you fall into an alternate reality? Is this still the same planet?
Ace is going to have a field day with this.
"Uh, well... goodnight!" You finally manage to blurt out before spinning on your heel and power-walking away, almost jumping off the balcony instead of climbing down, mentally screaming at yourself for turning into a malfunctioning robot over a simple gesture. You hear Riddle chuckle softly behind you, a sound that somehow makes your heart do a weird little flip, and then his window quietly closes.
The whole way back to your room, you're fighting off the most embarrassing grin. Maybe this little night mission was worth it after all—short circuits and all.
The next morning, you wake up to a new notification from your ever-so-charming system.
"Villain System: New Quest—Make the heroine cry and win the baking competition. Reward: 100 Villain Points"
You stare at the message, blinking. Make the heroine cry? That’s one thing, but… win the baking competition? You don’t even bake.
"System: Oh, did I forget to mention? The heroine has won every year because it’s women-only, and the original villainess didn’t care about trivial things like baking. Now she’s got a free pass to victory—unless, of course, you do something about it."
You roll your eyes. Right, of course. But then, an idea hits you. Trey. Who needs to bake when you know the one person who could win with his eyes closed?
In this kingdom’s prestigious baking competition, there's one important loophole: while only women are allowed to officially compete, each contestant is permitted a single helper. Of course, most participants choose their helpers from other women to maintain the spirit of the tradition. However, there’s nothing in therules that says it has to be a woman.
The heroine, ever the strategic darling, has chosen none other than the Sixth Male Lead as her helper—an aspiring nobleman known for his meticulous manners and refined taste. His calm demeanor and careful attention to detail make him a safe bet, and you overhear the heroine boasting that, with his assistance, her victory is all but guaranteed.
Yeah, not this year.
Instead of following tradition, you’ve asked Trey to be your helper. Trey Clover—renowned for his skill in the kitchen, and quite possibly the one person who could bake the heroine’s smug little plans into pie. The original villainess never cared enough to bother with this competition, which gave the heroine free rein. But now? Now she has to face you, and by extension, Trey.
And Trey Clover doesn’t play for second place when it comes to sweets.
Later that day, you find Trey in the gardens, tending to some herbs. He looks up, giving you that calm, friendly smile. "Need something?"
"Yeah, actually. There’s a baking competition coming up," you say nonchalantly, "and I need to win."
Trey raises an eyebrow. "I thought it was women-only?"
You shrug. "It is, but I thought you could, you know, help me win."
He chuckles, brushing some dirt off his hands. "What kind of help are we talking?"
"Let's just say," you grin, "we’ll be making a dessert so good that even the Empress and Emperor will swoon. And if sister dearest happens to cry... well, that's just a bonus."
Trey looks amused but intrigued. "Alright, I’m in. Let’s see what we can whip up."
The day of the competition arrives, and as expected, the heroine is floating around the kitchen like she owns the place. You catch a glimpse of her smug smile as she arranges her ingredients, clearly confident that victory is hers.
Little does she know.
You and Trey work quietly, making an intricate dessert that smells so good even the judges start peeking over your shoulder. It’s a delicate mille-feuille with layers of crisp pastry, rich cream, and fresh fruit, and the entire hall is already filled with its tantalizing aroma.
"Are you sure you want to go this hard?" Trey asks, smirking as he plates the dessert. "This might be overkill."
You laugh. "Overkill is the goal."
As the competition moves forward, you notice the heroine starting to fidget. Her confidence wavers when she sees your masterpiece, and by the time judging begins, she’s outright glaring at you.
The Empress and Emperor sit at the head of the table, and when your dessert is placed in front of them, you watch as they take a bite. First, there’s silence. Then, the Empress closes her eyes, a look of pure bliss on her face.
The Emperor leans back, sighing deeply. "This... this is incredible."
Even the Prince, sitting beside them, takes a bite and pauses. He leans in toward you with a subtle smile. "Such talent... A skillful partner would be quite the asset to the royal family."
You raise an eyebrow but smile politely.
"While I appreciate the compliment, Your Highness, I’m not interested in marriage at the moment. My hands are quite full with other matters."
The Prince looks mildly disappointed, but the Empress shoots him a warning glance, and he wisely backs off. You can feel the heroine seething from across the room.
Then, Riddle, who’s been observing the competition from the side, steps up to taste your creation. He takes a small, cautious bite—and his entire face lights up. His normally stern expression softens, and he looks so genuinely pleased that you can’t help but feel a little flustered yourself. Who knew Riddle could be this cute?
"This is... delightful," he says quietly, and for a moment, you forget about the competition entirely.
"Glad you like it," you say, your voice a little softer than you intended.
Ace nudges you from the side, wiggling his eyebrows. "You blushing? Never thought I'd see the day."
"Shut up," you hiss back, feeling your face heat up even more.
Meanwhile, the heroine, who has been watching the whole scene, looks on the verge of tears. As the judges declare you the winner, she loses her composure entirely and storms out of the hall, sniffling dramatically.
Ace bursts into laughter. "Wow, you really made her cry, huh? I’m loving this!"
Deuce, more concerned, pats you on the back. "Well... at least you won the competition?"
You smirk, satisfied. "Yeah, I’d say that went pretty well."
As you leave the competition hall, your system chimes in again.
"System: I’ll be honest. I wasn’t expecting you to fluster Riddle like that, but hey, bonus points for making the Prince back off too. Well played. +25 points"
Villain Points: 625. 375 points left till freedom.
You had to do something about the funny little flips your heart did when you even dared to glance at Riddle and so here you were, dramatically declaring a “Strategy Meeting” with Trey, Cater, Ace, and Deuce. You had even assigned roles—like some kind of overly elaborate battle plan—because, in your mind, this was war. And the enemy? Your increasingly uncontrollable feelings for a certain redheaded, rule-abiding, perfectionist nobleman.
You stood at the head of the table like a general ready to command the troops, but instead of warriors, you had your collection of questionable allies. Trey and Cater were lounging comfortably, while Ace and Deuce seemed entirely too excited about the prospect of scheming.
“Alright,” you began, pacing in front of the group. “Here’s the deal. I think I like Riddle.”
You were met with silence at first. Then, Ace broke into the most ridiculous grin. “Pfft, of course you do. You’ve been mooning over him for weeks now. Congratulations on finally catching up to reality!”
Deuce elbowed him. “Hey, don’t make fun of them! It’s... uh... commendable that you’re so serious about it.” He gave you a sympathetic smile, like you were some kind of lovesick puppy.
Cater, who had been leaning back casually in his chair, gave you a teasing wink. “Aww, our little villain is going soft. I guess all that sneaking tarts and saving him from certain doom finally got to you, huh?”
Trey, ever the calm and rational one, simply folded his arms and gave you a small smile. “Well, it makes sense. You two have spent a lot of time together. He’s... a good guy. A bit high-strung, but good.”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is not helpful. I need a plan, people! Riddle’s mom already thinks I’m a conniving little troublemaker—how am I supposed to make a good impression while also, you know... not being painfully awkward around him?”
Ace raised his hand dramatically like you were in the middle of a classroom. “Simple solution: you don’t. Just be yourself. He’s already used to your brand of chaos. Besides, you already saved him from his mom’s sugar ban, so I’d say you’re ahead of the game.”
“Okay, so,” Cater piped in, “in terms of strategy, you could always stage some grand gesture. I mean, Riddle’s all about tradition and propriety, right? What if you—”
Suddenly, a voice interrupted from behind you. “What are you all plotting now?”
You froze, spinning around to see none other than your mother, the Duchess, standing in the doorway with an amused look on her face. She had an uncanny talent for sneaking up on people.
“M-Mother! I, uh... it’s nothing serious. We’re just—”
She raised an eyebrow, cutting off your fumbling explanation with a wave of her hand. “If you’re scheming about Riddle Rosehearts, dear, you could use a bit more refinement. Fortunately for you, I’ve decided to assist.”
“Wait, what?” You blinked at her, feeling like the ground had just shifted beneath you. “You’re... helping me?”
She gave you a knowing smile. “Well, it’s about time someone showed that other daughter of mine what true charm looks like. You’ve always been the more intelligent one.”
“Uh... thanks?” You weren’t quite sure how to respond to that.
Without another word, your mother turned to the butler who had been standing in the hallway. “Make sure everything is in place for dinner tonight. And do make certain the maids are aware of our... little plans.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the butler replied with a subtle bow before whisking away.
You stared after him, feeling both flustered and slightly panicked. “Mother... what are you planning?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye. “It’s nothing too drastic. Just a little adjustment to how tonight’s dinner will go.”
That evening, you found yourself at the weekly gathering/dinner, sitting at the long, ornate table alongside your parents, Riddle, his mother, and—unfortunately—your sister, who was already droning on about some utterly mundane topic that only she could make sound self-important.
And then, the plan began.
The maids moved around the table, loudly discussing their work. "Oh, our youngest lady is always so kind to us, isn't she? Such a breath of fresh air!"
"Yes, yes," another maid replied with an exaggerated nod. "And always so intelligent! Did you hear how she handled that situation at the garden party? Simply remarkable!"
Riddle’s mother perked up at the praise, her sharp gaze cutting from the maids to you, her expression intrigued. Your sister, on the other hand, looked like she was about to burst a blood vessel.
The butler, who had been refilling glasses, suddenly spoke up as well. "Ah, I must say, our young miss has shown extraordinary grace and poise recently. A true future lady of the house, if I may be so bold."
You were mortified. Your face felt like it was on fire, and you desperately tried to shrink into your seat. This was not what you had planned. You could feel Riddle’s eyes on you, and you were certain you were about to pass out from sheer embarrassment.
Your sister, however, could not stay silent. “Excuse me?” she snapped. “I don’t know what all this nonsense is about, but—”
But the maids and butler kept going, seemingly oblivious to her anger. "Indeed, I can’t think of anyone more suited to such a role!" one of the maids declared.
Riddle’s mother hummed thoughtfully, clearly impressed by the blatant—and likely orchestrated—praise. “It is quite rare to find such well-rounded young women these days,” she mused, looking at you with a glint of approval in her eyes. “Perhaps I should consider the advantages of such a match after all.”
You nearly choked on your drink. Riddle, across from you, was staring at his plate like he was trying to become one with it. He looked both horrified and... pleased? Maybe?
And just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, Ace—because of course, it had to be Ace—leaned over and whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Hey, at least you know Riddle's mom doesn’t hate you anymore. Progress!”
You shot him a glare, but the damage was done. Everyone at the table had heard, and Riddle’s mother raised a curious eyebrow at you both. You could practically feel Riddle sinking further into his seat.
The dinner continued with more awkward small talk, with your mother throwing in subtle digs at your sister’s lack of... everything, while you tried your hardest not to combust from sheer humiliation.
But hey—if nothing else, at least Riddle wasn’t the only one who felt like he needed to escape to the nearest corner. Small victories, right?
"System: Quest: Make Riddle Say Something Mean to Your Sister. Reward: 100 Points"
The system pings you with the next quest, and you almost laugh out loud. Get Riddle to say something mean to your sister? The guy whose idea of an insult is reminding someone to follow the rules more carefully? You know this’ll be near impossible—his mother raised him to be the picture of etiquette and politeness.
But, then again, opportunity tends to strike when you least expect it, and with your villain system, those moments come with a bit of flair.
It all starts innocently enough: horseback riding. You’re a natural at it, of course, and as you effortlessly guide your horse around the course, your sister glares at you from the sidelines, arms crossed.
"Oh, how shocking," she drawls loud enough for everyone to hear. "A masculine activity. How unbecoming for a lady."
Before you can snap back, someone else beats you to it. "That's funny, I quite like horseback riding too," The Empress says, her voice as polite as ever but with just enough edge to make your darling sister freeze.
And when Riddle adds that he also enjoys horseback riding, you almost snort. Of course, he does. Riddle would have to enjoy something that involves strict rules and perfect posture.
Your sister's eyes flicker toward Riddle, suddenly aware that insulting horseback riding is not the wisest move when he is within earshot. She stammers, trying to recover. "I—I mean, I didn’t say it was entirely inappropriate. It’s just—"
You just stare at her, subtly challenging her to continue. And she takes the bait.
Sensing an opportunity to show off, your sister decides to prove she’s good at it too. "I’ll show you how a real lady rides a horse," she declares, moving to mount the closest horse. The horse, sensing the storm of bad vibes radiating from your sister, immediately snorts and takes a few steps back.
“See, even the horse knows better,” Ace mutters behind you, earning a chuckle from Deuce. You can’t help but grin.
Your sister’s attempt to get on the horse is nothing short of a disaster. Her foot slips, her balance is off, and the horse finally has enough. In one swift move, it bucks her off before she’s even properly seated, sending her tumbling to the ground in an undignified heap.
For a second, there's stunned silence. Then, in true ‘sister’ fashion, she gets up, furious and embarrassed, and hits the horse on the flank.
Oh no. She did not just hit the horse.
Riddle’s face turns red—not his usual "I’m about to scold you" red, but the kind of red that suggests a leviathan-level insult has just taken place. "What are you doing?" he snaps, shocking everyone in earshot. Even you pause, surprised.
You quickly recover, barely holding back your grin. You can already feel the points tallying up.
"That was completely uncalled for," Riddle continues, his voice icy. "You should apologize to the horse."
Your sister sputters, clearly not used to being reprimanded by someone like Riddle.
"I—I didn’t—"
"Violence toward an innocent animal," the Emperor chimes in from his observation point, his tone dripping with disapproval. "Disgraceful behavior."
The Imperial Princess, who has been watching with her arms crossed, gives a snort of laughter. "Well, clearly not everyone can handle themselves with grace on horseback."
Your sister looks like she’s about to implode, her cheeks burning redder than Riddle's hair. "I didn’t mean—"
"Please," Riddle says, cutting her off with a wave of his hand. "Let’s not make this any worse for yourself."
The system pops up again with a cheeky little message.
"+25 bonus points: The system respects that level of carnage. Well done."
Honestly, even you can’t help but respect the sheer scale of the damage your sister just managed to cause to her own reputation in a matter of minutes.
Riddle, who’s usually the epitome of control, saying something that mean? The Emperor, the Imperial Princess, and the Empress all scolding her? It’s a beautiful mess, and you’ll take the points with a smile.
Villain Points: 750. 150 points left till freedom
You’re lounging in the courtyard, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when chaos inevitably strikes. You don’t know why you thought you could have a quiet afternoon without something going wrong. The universe must have you on its watchlist, and today, it decided to throw a wrench in the form of Deuce Spade sprinting across the courtyard, holding a goose under his arm like some kind of barnyard Olympian.
The goose then shows a surprising amount of athleticism and manages to pivot in his arms and jump down.
“GET BACK HERE, YOU FEATHERED MENACE!” Ace screams behind him, waving what looks like a loaf of bread. You raise an eyebrow, confused but intrigued. “Uh… do I even want to know?”
“They’re trying to catch the Duchess’s prized goose,” Cater pipes up, appearing out of nowhere. “It escaped from the coop. Again.”
You squint at the scene unfolding before you, watching as Deuce trips over a bush, while grabbing its tail, sending both himself and the goose tumbling to the ground, feathers everywhere. The goose immediately makes a break for it, flapping wildly in your direction. You can’t help it—some deep, misguided instinct kicks in. You blame your duel with the chicken of doom. Must help friends! Must catch rogue poultry!
You leap to your feet, determination surging through you. This is it. This is your time to shine. You throw yourself at the goose, diving for it like a soccer goalie saving the game-winning shot.
And you miss. Not just miss—you whiff it entirely. Instead, you skid along the ground, getting a face full of dirt and grass. The goose, clearly uninterested in whatever heroic save you were attempting, runs straight towards the nearby rose bushes, where Riddle is calmly reading a book.
“Got it!” you yell, trying to recover from your very undignified position. You scramble to your feet and sprint towards the goose, not thinking—absolutely no thoughts—just vibes and feathers.
“STOP THAT GOOSE!” you hear Deuce shout, which only makes you run faster.
But then… things go wrong. Horribly, hilariously wrong.
The goose, in a feat of poultry acrobatics, launches itself directly at Riddle. In a panic, you leap towards them, determined to protect Riddle from the poultry projectile. Unfortunately, in your zeal to save him, you overestimate your athletic prowess, launching yourself way too high and way too fast.
You soar right over the rose bushes. For a brief, glorious moment, you feel like you’re flying. Like Icarus, you’ve flown too close to the sun.
And then gravity kicks in.
You crash into Riddle, knocking his book out of his hands as you both go down in a very undignified heap. Riddle lets out a startled yelp, and you’re pretty sure your entire life flashes before your eyes in that split second.
When the dust settles, you’re on the ground, somehow tangled up with both Riddle and the goose, who looks mildly offended by this whole debacle. You can barely process the pain in your elbow because, oh no—you’ve just tackled Riddle Rosehearts in broad daylight. You’re doomed. Absolutely doomed.
Riddle, red-faced and thoroughly flustered, pushes himself up, brushing stray feathers off his jacket. “What in the world…?”
“I, uh… was trying to help?” you say weakly, still half-sprawled on the ground with the goose now comfortably perched on your back, like some sort of bizarre poultry crown.
Before Riddle can reply, Ace and Deuce finally catch up, breathless and thoroughly amused by the sight before them.
“Nice one!” Ace cackles, doubling over with laughter. “I didn’t think you’d go for the full-on tackle!”
“Yeah, wow,” Deuce adds, clearly struggling to keep a straight face. “Really… really brave of you. Or maybe just… really dumb?”
Cater, meanwhile, is gleefully giggling during the entire thing. "I can’t believe you almost took out Riddle over a goose!” Riddle glares at them, cheeks still a furious shade of pink. “This is not funny. Someone could have been hurt!”
You finally manage to sit up, the goose still somehow perched atop your shoulder. You look up at Riddle, giving him a sheepish grin. “Uh, well… thanks for breaking my fall?”
Riddle huffs, brushing dirt off his sleeves as he stands. “Next time, please consider not risking your life over poultry.”
“Aw, don’t be mad, Riddle,” Cater teases, still giggling. “Our hero here just wanted to protect you from the fierce Goose of Doom!”
Riddle shoots him a glare that could melt ice.
Ace leans over, giving you an exaggerated thumbs-up. “Honestly, this is peak comedy. I can’t wait to see the look on Trey’s face when he hears about this.”
You groan, already feeling the embarrassment sink in. “Just… just help me up, please.”
Riddle offers you a hand, though he still looks like he’s debating whether to scold you or just cry. As he pulls you to your feet, the goose squawks indignantly, finally hopping off your shoulder to strut away, victorious.
“See?” Ace says, still grinning like a fool. “The goose is fine. No harm done.”
“No harm,” Riddle repeats, looking at you with a sigh. “Except perhaps to our dignity.”
You can’t help but laugh at that, your cheeks burning. “Yeah, well, dignity is overrated. At least we caught the goose… eventually.”
Riddle shakes his head, a small smile finally tugging at his lips. “Next time, let’s leave the heroics to someone a little more... suited for it, shall we?”
You nod, rubbing your sore elbow. “Deal. But if that goose comes at you again, I’m not making any promises.”
Riddle just shakes his head, turning away to pick up his book. And he takes your hand and ties a handkerchief around a scratch you didn’t even realize was bleeding. You can still hear the teasing laughs from Ace, Deuce, and Cater echoing in your ears, but you can’t help the grin that tugs at your own lips.
Yeah, you might’ve girlbossed a little too close to the sun today. But at least you made Riddle smile and he held your hand!(kinda) . And, well, the goose is still alive, so there’s that. Small victories.
"System: Quest: Become the Flower of the Ball. Reward: 50 Points"
The system's new quest pops up with a glorious ping—Become the Flower of the Ball. Easy enough, right? Except, of course, your sister has always held that title. The "Flower of the Ball" is not just the prettiest person at the event; it’s the one who commands the room, whose influence and elegance leave everyone talking for weeks. And you? Well, with Cater on your side, you’re about to change that.
First step: rumors. Cater helps you work your way through the gossip circuit like a seasoned pro. With just a few whispered suggestions here and there, you have half the ball convinced that you’ll be arriving in something that will make your sister’s dress look like an afterthought.
Next, your mother—who’s never liked your adopted sister, mainly because of your father's favouritism —does her part by pulling the strings and reserving the best tailor exclusively for you. Your sister? She’s stuck with second-rate options, fuming in the background. By the time you step into the ball, you look absolutely perfect. The dress is a masterpiece of fabric and sparkle, the kind that makes everyone’s heads turn the second you enter.
Cater sneaks by your side as you walk in. "Nailed it, babe," he whispers, giving you a wink. "They're already talking about how your dress makes you look like a literal god."
And indeed, the whispers from the crowd follow you like a wave. Mission accomplished.
Your sister, of course, tries to maintain her usual position of dominance. She’s chosen the 7th male lead as her escort—a decision that reeks of desperation since she couldn't snag a higher-ranked noble. You, meanwhile, had originally planned to attend with Ace and Deuce, they were your closest friends after all, just to keep things low-key. But before you can finalize that plan, Riddle appears, looking composed as ever, and offers you his arm.
"I thought it might be appropriate if you accompanied me," he says with a shy smile. "Since my fiancée has chosen to attend with someone else this evening."
You almost laugh. Of course, she has. She likely thought it would make her look more desirable, but now it's given you a perfect in. Going to the ball with Riddle is about as high-profile as it gets.
Your sister’s eyes widen the moment she sees you walk in with him. Her expression morphs into barely-contained outrage, but before she can say anything, another bomb drops.
Riddle’s mother—stern and poised as always—leans over to one of her confidantes and just loud enough for you and your sister to hear, says, "Well, perhaps this arrangement is for the best. It wouldn’t be surprising if we reconsider the sister for our families’ union."
Cue dramatic gasp.
Your sister’s face twists in horror, while the 7th male lead stands there, visibly confused as to why he’s even part of this drama. "What—what did she mean by that?!" your sister hisses, shooting daggers at you and Riddle.
You smile sweetly. "Oh, who knows? Perhaps she just appreciates my company more."
Before your sister can explode, the Imperial Princess herself enters the fray. Your sister, still seething, is barely holding it together when she steps forward to greet the Princess, but her curtsey is sloppy. The Princess raises an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. "Hmm, interesting technique," she says coldly, her eyes flicking to you with approval as you execute your bow with flawless grace.
Your sister sputters, trying to recover, but it’s too late—the Princess’ interest is already elsewhere. The rest of the ball quickly follows suit, flocking to your side. Riddle, ever the gentleman, offers you a subtle smile as the room begins to orbit around you instead of your sister.
And then, like clockwork, your sister makes yet another blunder. This time, it’s with the cutlery at the dinner table. The 7th male lead awkwardly copies her, both of them managing to insult half the table in the process. You’d almost feel bad, but honestly, they’re making it too easy.
The system, naturally, is having the time of its life. "+25 points: Honestly, this is comedy gold. Extra points for the mess."
You flash a victorious smile, knowing that by the end of the night, you’ll be crowned as the new Flower of the Ball—your sister’s reign well and truly over.
Villain points: 825. 175 points to go.
Riddle wasn't quite sure when it happened. Maybe it had been a gradual realization, building slowly every time he saw you speak your mind with that sharp wit of yours, or maybe it was something that had struck him like a lightning bolt during a moment like this—watching you hold an entire room's attention, bright and confident in your own, distinct way.
You were just so... you. The way you spoke, that glint of mischief in your eyes whenever you were about to say something clever—it was entirely captivating. It was easy to see why people were drawn to you, why they wanted to bask in your energy.
Right now, you were standing near the center of the room, laughing animatedly as you shared some story with your friends. Your expression was full of life, each gesture adding color to your words, your smile lighting up the whole space. Riddle couldn’t help but find his gaze lingering on you, taking in every detail.
And then, out of nowhere, you turned your head, locking eyes with him across the room. For a split second, he felt his breath catch. He should look away, he told himself. But he couldn't. He was rooted in place as you spotted him.
Your face lit up even more—if that was even possible—and you raised your hand, giving him an enthusiastic wave, completely unabashed. There was something so genuine, so utterly you, in that wave. Your arm flailed just a little, and you were smiling so broadly, so openly, that you looked a little silly. But it didn’t matter.
Because, in that moment, Riddle felt something click into place. He might like you. He might like you quite a lot, actually.
Without even thinking, Riddle found himself waving back, a small smile creeping onto his face. He felt warm, a strange fluttering sensation settling in his chest. He probably looked ridiculous, waving with that soft, dazed look in his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
You gave him a thumbs-up, your grin widening, and Riddle had to stop himself from laughing. His heart was pounding in his chest now, a warmth creeping up his neck, and the realization hit him with startling clarity: you made him feel light. You made him feel... happy, in a way he hadn’t quite understood before.
He might have spent his whole life avoiding this kind of chaos, but when it came to you—when it came to your laughter, your brightness, your way of pulling him into your orbit—Riddle found he didn’t mind the chaos at all.
In fact, he was pretty sure he was completely smitten with it.
"Villain System: New Quest—Humiliate the heroine in front of the heir to the throne, the First Princess. Reward: 100 Villain Points"
You read the message and resist the urge to sigh. Your sister is a piece of work, sure, but the system really seems hellbent on making her your eternal punching bag. But hey, if the system insists… who are you to resist?
As luck would have it, the annual hunt is coming up—an event where the bachelors of the court go off into the woods to prove their worth, while the bachelorettes sit around and gossip like they're at an overpriced brunch. However, this year, the Imperial Princess, renowned master swordswoman and all-around terrifying person, has decided to spice things up by organizing a competition of swordsmanship for the ladies.
Before the hunt and the competition officially start, it's tradition for those not participating in the hunt to present charms to their loved ones—little tokens of affection and support to tie onto their swords before they charge off to slaughter things in the woods. It’s all very romantic, except, of course, when it’s you and your friends.
You've prepared four charms for Trey, Cater, Ace, and Deuce. Mostly because you know these four will be fighting like it's a matter of life or death (because, let's face it, it’s mostly about showing off at this point), and the least you can do is give them something to remind them not to do anything stupid and die.
You hand them out one by one, and each of them reacts in their own, very predictable way.
Cater takes his with a grin, twirling it between his fingers like it’s a prize from a carnival. "Aw, thanks, bestie! Now I have no choice but to win." He strikes a pose, charm held up as if he’s already envisioning the animal he's gonna get.
Deuce just flushes, taking the charm with both hands as if it's some sacred object. "I, uh, I’ll do my best!" he declares, looking both touched and slightly stressed by the responsibility you’ve just put on him.
Ace rolls his eyes, snatching his charm like you’ve just given him an extra chore. "Ugh, seriously? Now I gotta win for you?" He gives a dramatic sigh, but you can tell he’s secretly proud, especially with the way he ties it onto his sword with a flourish—making sure everyone nearby notices.
Trey, ever the gentleman, accepts his charm with a warm smile, nodding in thanks. "I appreciate it," he says, his tone so sincere you almost feel bad about how unserious the others are. "I'll try to bring back something worthy of this."
You wave them off with a grin. "Just try not to get yourselves killed, alright? I don’t need the guilt."
They nod, though Ace gives you a playful smirk. "No promises, but hey, if I survive, I'll owe you one."
You’re not entirely sure if that’s comforting, but at least they seem motivated... in their own, ridiculous way.
But then comes the surprise: Riddle. Normally, Riddle doesn’t accept charms from anyone. The whole court knows he rejects them all, your sister’s included, and it’s practically common knowledge that they’re engaged.
And yet, as you’re about to turn away, you feel someone tug gently on your sleeve.
You look back, and there’s Riddle, cheeks tinged pink, looking almost… shy? “I… noticed you hadn’t given me a charm,” he says, his voice quieter than usual.
Your heart skips a beat. Riddle? Asking you for a charm? You quickly pull out an extra special one you’d prepared just in case, trying not to look too smug as you hand it over. “Of course, I saved the best for last,” you tease.
He takes it with both hands, his blush deepening, and carefully ties it to his sword. "Thank you," he says, the sincerity in his voice making you feel just a little warm inside.
The time for the competition arrives after they leave and naturally, your sister finds this whole idea beneath her. Women should be "gentle and poised," she says, like she hasn’t spent the last three months practicing how to flutter her eyelashes in just the right way to ensnare the nearest man.
Then she makes a godawful comment. "I'm sure I'm better than everyone here anyways."
The Princess's eye twitches at your sister’s comment, and you can practically smell the impending doom. “Is that so?” she says, voice calm but sharp enough to cut glass. “Then perhaps you’d like to prove it.”
Your sister blinks, feigning innocence. “Oh, but Your Highness, you're a general, a dame, it would hardly be fair—”
“No, no,” you butt in, already feeling the villainous urge rising. You smile sweetly at the Princess, “I’ll do it.”
Your sister’s eyes widen, and you swear you see a flicker of fear. “You?”
“Yes, me.” You roll your wrist casually, like this is nothing. After all, you’ve been secretly training with your mother(a former knight) for weeks. And let’s be real—if you can endure her strict-as-hell lessons without fleeing for your life, your sister stands no chance.
The crowd of onlookers murmurs, excited at the prospect of some royal drama. The Princess smiles approvingly. “Very well. Let’s see what you’re made of.”
The competition begins, and your sister—oh, sweet, naive, overly-confident sister—struts up to the sparring ring like she’s about to breeze through this. She hasn’t even drawn her sword, too busy preening for the audience.
The Princess stands off to the side, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. “Whenever you’re ready,” she says dryly.
Your sister scoffs, finally drawing her sword with confidence that stems from absolutely nothing tangible.. “This won’t take long.”
It really doesn’t.
You sidestep her first swing with ease, and she fumbles, her balance thrown off. She’s clearly never sparred against anyone with any actual skill, and it shows. You suppress a laugh, offering her a mockingly sweet smile. “Having trouble?”
Her face flushes with anger, and she lunges again, this time with less grace and more brute force. You parry her strike effortlessly, spinning around her and tapping her shoulder lightly with your blade. “Point.”
The crowd gasps, and you can practically feel Riddle’s mother watching you with approval from her seat. Your sister glares at you, red-faced and flustered. “That was just luck,” she hisses.
“Sure,” you reply, twirling your sword for added flair. “Let’s see if your luck improves.”
Spoiler: it doesn’t.
By the end of the match, your sister is out of breath, red-faced, and thoroughly humiliated. You, on the other hand, haven’t even broken a sweat. The Princess claps her hands together, beaming. “Well done! I think that settles the matter.”
Your sister looks like she’s about to cry, and you can’t resist twisting the knife just a little. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before insulting women who actually know how to use a sword.”
The Princess snorts.
By the time the bachelors return from the hunt, everyone’s gathered around to see who brought back the biggest game. As expected, Ace and Deuce present their game to you: They’d both managed to snag huge wolves—both proud and slightly smug. Cater hands you his deer with a wink and a grin. Even Trey, with his calm composure, looks pleased as he hands over his bear.
And then, to everyone’s shock, Riddle approaches. He’s carrying what is clearly the biggest game of the day,a bear and a lion, and as he presents it to you, the whole crowd falls silent.
Your sister looks absolutely mortified. The other male leads, meanwhile, are either empty-handed or have brought back something pathetically small in comparison—a rabbit here, a pheasant there. But Riddle? Riddle has the prize catch, and he’s offering it to you, her sister who just humiliated her in front of the entire royal court.
The center of attention, you smile graciously as you accept the game, thanking him softly. The crowd erupts into whispers, all eyes on you and Riddle. Your sister looks like she wants to crawl into a hole and disappear, and you can’t help but feel just a little triumphant.
System: I wasn’t expecting you to charm all of the top hunters into giving you their game… but hey, overachieving is such a villainous trait. Well done."
You nearly roll your eyes at the system’s snarky tone. Of course it would reward you for accidentally out-villaining yourself. But hey, who’s going to complain about extra points?
Villain points: 975. 25 points to go, you're so close.
It was a peaceful afternoon in the garden, one of those rare moments where you and Riddle had a quiet space to just… exist. He was sitting across from you, his face slightly softened from its usual stern expression. The hedgehogs nearby were doing hedgehog things, oblivious to the world.
"I suppose it’s something I don’t talk about often," Riddle started, his voice softer than usual, like he was letting you into a part of himself he kept locked away. "My mother was strict—is strict. Everything had to be perfect. The rules, the grades, my behavior… there was no room for failure. Not even a sliver."
You nodded, already knowing this story from your countless hours reading the webnovel. But hearing it from him directly? It hit differently.
"I wasn't allowed to have friends or play outside. My entire childhood was about memorizing rules and doing things perfectly," he continued. His eyes stayed on the hedgehogs, but his expression grew distant, lost in the painful memories. "Every mistake I made was a punishment… every misstep was a disappointment."
You could feel the lump forming in your throat. Here it comes. The part that always got you while reading.
"But the worst part," Riddle whispered, his voice almost cracking, "was that I started to believe I wasn’t good enough… not for her, not for anyone."
That was it. The dam broke.
You tried to keep it together—you really did—but the sheer weight of Riddle’s story, the pain in his voice, it hit you like a sledgehammer to the chest. You started sniffling. And then… it escalated.
You’re not just crying; you’re ugly crying. We’re talking snot, hiccups, the whole I-will-not-survive-this package.
And then, in between gasps, you suddenly blurt out, "I swear... I SWEAR, I’ll get revenge for you! No one will survive my wrath!" You shake your fist to the sky like you’re about to start a one-person war against his emotionally distant mother.
Riddle looks at you, eyes wide with shock. He hadn’t expected this. No one had. Not even you.
"Are you… are you crying?" he asked, sounding both bewildered and concerned, because let’s face it, you were making sounds that weren’t even human anymore. Somewhere between a hiccup, a wail, and a seal being slapped.
"Y-YES!" you sobbed, wiping your face with the sleeve of your shirt, which didn’t help because now you just had tear-streaked sleeves and a snotty nose. "IT'S SO SAD!"
Riddle blinked, completely caught off-guard. “It’s… it’s not that—”
By this point, you were full-on hysterical, tears streaming down your face as you flailed around in righteous fury. Riddle just sat there, completely overwhelmed. He had expected maybe a few words of sympathy, a comforting pat on the shoulder. What he hadn't expected was for you to declare full-scale emotional war on his behalf.
Riddle, for his part, was speechless. And also… redder than his hair.
He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat awkwardly. "I… appreciate the sentiment, but—"
"No, Riddle!" you cut him off, wiping your nose aggressively with your sleeve again. "You deserve someone who loves you without conditions! And I’m going to make sure the world knows it!" You stood up dramatically, only to trip over a rock, stumble, and fall back into your seat. "Ow."
Riddle, despite the chaos, couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at your sheer determination—and the fact that you were still crying while swearing vengeance. It was… endearing, in a very chaotic, unpredictable way.
You, however, were still in your feelings. "I can’t believe your mom! I’m—sniffle—gonna burn her rulebook. Watch me."
Riddle, who had started the conversation with the intention of sharing something personal, now found himself caught in a whirlwind of emotions he didn’t know how to handle. But… somehow, through your teary declarations of revenge and your intense empathy, he couldn’t help but feel something stir inside him.
He looked at you—your face blotchy, your eyes puffy, your determination unwavering despite the fact that you were an absolute mess—and he realized that you weren’t crying just because you felt bad. You were crying because you cared. Like, really cared.
His heart skipped a beat. Maybe… maybe you were the kind of person who could see past all his rules and expectations and just—feel for him. No judgment. Just empathy.
"I… I didn’t realize it would make you so upset," he said quietly, a soft smile pulling at his lips. "But thank you. Really."
Through your sniffling, you managed to nod and offer a watery smile. "It’s not fair. You deserve better, Riddle. I mean it."
And with that, Riddle found himself falling just a little harder for you—ugly crying and all.
It’s a regular afternoon tea party, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and your sister is… making out with the eighth male lead in broad daylight behind a rose bush.
Ah. Classy.
You had only wandered over to sneak a mini éclair when you caught them. What’s worse is they weren’t even being subtle—like, they might as well have put up a sign that says, “We’re Ruining Our Reputations Here.”
Shocked beyond measure, you accidentally let out the loudest and most undignified gasp. It’s so loud that the entire tea party freezes mid-sip. Cups stop midair, all eyes turn to you like you’ve just declared war on the empire.
“Did someone choke on a scone?” Trey asks, concerned, already standing to assess the pastry crisis.
You try to subtly redirect everyone’s attention back to their tea, but it’s too late. The damage is done. The Imperial Princess, the Empress, the First Prince, the Emperor, Riddle, your parents, Trey, Cater, Ace, Deuce, and Riddle’s mom—all eyes are now locked on you and the unfortunate scene happening behind you.
Your sister and the eighth male lead pop their heads out of the bushes like deer caught in headlights, looking horrified. The heroine, of course, immediately bursts into tears. “I can’t believe you! How could you ruin my private moment!” she wails, mascara already running.
You blink. "Private? You were basically holding auditions for 'Romeo and Juliet' in front of the entire garden."
"Enough!" The Empress's voice cuts through the chaos like a sword. She glares at your sister, then glances at you for an explanation. You're about to open your mouth when—
"An outrage!" The Imperial Princess thunders, stepping forward with the grace of a tiger ready to pounce. "Is this what passes for decorum these days?"
Before you can even begin to process the incoming storm, your sister points her trembling finger at you. “It’s her fault! She—She’s been plotting against me this whole time! She wanted to embarrass me!”
You raise an eyebrow, utterly deadpan. “By forcing you to lock lips with the eighth male lead in broad daylight? Wow, my plans are so intricate even I don’t understand them anymore.”
Ace is snickering so loudly into his teacup that he’s shaking, and Deuce is doing his best to hold back tears of laughter. Cater’s trying to stay neutral, but even he’s got a lopsided grin.
Riddle, on the other hand, looks like he’s trying to create a new spell that will instantly smite him while his mother… well, his mother seems like she’s gonna cut someone.
Riddle’s mom, the always composed Lady Rosehearts, steps forward, glancing at your sister with such a cold expression that you could swear the temperature drops five degrees. “This engagement," she begins icily, "will not proceed. If there is to be any union between our families, it will be with someone more appropriate." She then turns her gaze to you. “Someone like you.”
Cue a choking noise from Riddle, who looks ready to faint on the spot. His cheeks turn red as he stares wide-eyed at his mother, clearly having not expected this. Trey’s eyes widen too, but he quickly coughs into his fist to hide a smirk. Ace elbows Deuce with barely concealed glee.
“U-Um, Mother?” Riddle manages to stutter out. “What… what do you mean?”
His mother gives him a rather smug look, clearly having already made up her mind. “I mean that if this union is to benefit both families, it would be much more suitable for you to marry someone with intelligence, grace, and… a bit of common sense. Someone who hasn’t made a public fool of themselves.” Her eyes drift back to your sister, who is now dramatically sobbing into her hands.
Your father looks like he’s just been hit by a runaway carriage, staring in horror at the scene unfolding before him. “Lady Rosehearts—surely this is a misunderstanding—”
Riddle’s mom raises a hand. “If there is to be any marriage, it will be between my son and your younger daughter. Or,” she adds sharply, “there will be no marriage at all.”
You stand there, blinking at the whirlwind you just caused by gasping too loudly at your sister’s terrible decision-making skills. You glance at your mom, who has her face buried in her hands. But when she peeks through her fingers, you see the slight glint of satisfaction in her eyes. She’s pretending to be scandalized, but deep down… she’s absolutely living for this. You know she's elated that you got your guy.
The Emperor himself clears his throat, trying to restore order to the royal circus. “Well, this is… unprecedented,” he says, diplomatically, though there’s a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth, like he’s holding back laughter.
Your sister, meanwhile, continues her sobbing performance, practically flinging herself into your father’s arms. “Papa, how can they treat me like this?! You always told me I’m the heroine!”
You try to hide your grin. “Heroine of a tragedy, maybe.”
“Enough!” Your father groans, looking utterly defeated. “You’ve done enough damage, girl.”
Riddle reluctantly speaks up. “I… I suppose Mother has made her decision.” His voice wavers a bit, and for a moment, he seems like he might collapse under the weight of all this sudden attention. But then, his eyes meet yours. And despite the chaos, despite his mortification, there’s a small, shy smile on his face.
“You,” he begins hesitantly, “you wouldn’t… mind this arrangement, would you?”
You laugh softly, glancing at the ridiculous mess that was this tea party. “Honestly? I'm quite fond of you so, why not?”
Ace lets out a snort of laughter, while Cater gives you a double thumbs-up from across the table. Trey just smiles warmly, giving you an approving nod. Even Lady Rosehearts looks somewhat satisfied.
The system, not one to miss an opportunity, dings in your head again.
"Villain System: New achievement unlocked! Engagement broken! Also… bonus points for making a royal spectacle of it. 100 Villain Points awarded."
With this, you're free from the system. Maybe it's time to retire your villain act.
You nearly burst into laughter at the absurdity of it all. But for now, you simply give Riddle a small, reassuring smile.
“Well,” you say, “guess we’ve got some wedding planning to do.”
It was a grand banquet, the kind where you could practically smell the prestige in the air. The Imperial Family was seated at the head of the table, all regal in their elegance. You were just trying not to trip over your own shoes and embarrass yourself in front of the Empress again.
Riddle, of course, was the epitome of decorum. Every movement was precise, every word carefully measured. Until—just as he went to refill the First Prince’s wine glass—his hand slipped ever so slightly. The tiniest splash of wine splattered onto the pristine tablecloth. It was so small you would’ve missed it if you weren’t watching him so intently.
But Riddle noticed. Oh, did he notice.
His face immediately paled like he’d just seen a ghost wearing polka dots, and his eyes darted across the table to where his mother sat. Lady Rosehearts was blissfully unaware, engaged in conversation with the Emperor, but Riddle looked like he was about to meet his maker.
You could almost hear his internal screams.
To anyone else, it was a non-event. But to Riddle, this was a catastrophe of the highest order. You could practically feel him sweating next to you, despite his rigid posture.
Time to act.
“Oh no!” You gasp dramatically, standing up and pointing directly at yourself. “I can’t believe I just did that!”
Everyone at the table stopped and stared, clearly wondering what on earth you were talking about. Even the Empress raised an eyebrow, a mix of confusion and mild amusement flickering on her face.
Riddle blinked, looking at you like you had just spontaneously grown a second head. “What…?”
You plopped down a napkin over the tiny splash of wine, covering the evidence. “I—I accidentally knocked the bottle when Riddle was pouring!” you announce loudly, offering a sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry, Your Highnesses. How embarrassing.”
The Empress smiled indulgently. “It’s quite all right, dear. Such things happen.”
Lady Rosehearts glanced over at the napkin-covered spot and frowned slightly, but then she looked back to you and said, “No harm done.”
Meanwhile, Riddle’s face was a mix of confusion, shock, and—was that gratitude? He blinked again, still processing what just happened. His mother hadn’t even glanced at him in disapproval, and now you were taking the fall for a spill no one really noticed.
As the conversation around the table resumed, Riddle leaned in close, whispering under his breath, “Why would you do that?”
You grinned and shrugged. “Because I’ve got a heart of gold, obviously. And I quite like you, you know”
Before Riddle could respond, Ace, who had been watching the whole debacle with barely restrained glee, leaned over from his spot across the table. “You’re down so horrendously,” he said, just loud enough for you and Riddle to hear.
You shot him a look. “You’re just mad you don’t have someone as gracious as me taking the fall for you”
Ace wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe, but at least I don’t go taking the fall for my fiancé before we’re even married.”
Riddle flushed a bright red. “I—I—this isn’t—”
You laugh, leaning back in your chair. “You know, Ace, sometimes you just have to be a hero.”
“Sure, ‘hero,’” Cater chimed in, leaning in on the action with a smirk. “Or, you know, simp of the year.”
Riddle, still flustered, shoots both of them a glare, but you can tell he’s secretly relieved. The impending doom of his mother’s wrath was averted, all thanks to your impromptu performance.
With a small sigh, he finally mutters, “Thank you,” so softly you almost miss it.
You give him a wink and lean back in your chair, feeling pretty pleased with yourself. “Anytime, partner.”
Ace nudges Deuce. “You think we should get them ‘World’s Greatest Simp’ matching mugs for the wedding?”
Deuce shrugs. “I think it’d be cute.”
Riddle buries his face in his hands. "Please, spare me."
But the corners of his mouth are lifting, just slightly.
It happened when you decided to climb the academy's tallest tree. It was a brilliant idea in your mind—after all, you’d just spotted an adorable sparrow nest precariously hanging from one of the highest branches. Rescue mission mode engaged.
The execution? Less brilliant.
You were halfway up, dangling from a particularly wobbly branch, when you heard a very familiar voice calling your name from below.
“WHAT are you doing?” Riddle’s voice was half exasperated, half astonished.
You looked down (mistake) and saw Riddle, arms crossed, staring at you with a mix of bewilderment and that very specific “You’re in trouble” look he usually reserved for rule-breaking.
“I—uh,” you stammered, “I’m saving the sparrows?”
There was a long pause. Riddle blinked. “You climbed that tree for sparrows?”
“Look, I know it’s a bit—”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Riddle interrupted, running a hand down his face. “Do you even have a plan for getting down?”
“...I’ll figure that out later?”
Riddle pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “Of course you will.”
By some miracle (or the sheer force of your chaotic will), you managed to secure the sparrow nest and shimmy your way down without falling to your doom. As soon as your feet hit the ground, you triumphantly held the nest up, smiling wide.
“See? Mission accomplished!”
Riddle just stared at you, mouth slightly open, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, out of nowhere, he laughed—a soft, bewildered laugh that grew louder the more he looked at you, dirt-covered and grinning like an idiot.
“You…” he started, shaking his head with a small, fond smile, “You’re such an idiot.”
You blinked, caught off guard by his words. “I—hey!”
“No, really,” he continued, stepping closer, eyes full of amusement. “You’re reckless and absurd and you do things like climbing trees to save sparrows and covering for me in front of the imperial family without thinking it through.”
You frowned, feeling a bit defensive. “Well, someone has to—”
“And yet…” His voice softened, and suddenly he was close, much closer than you expected. His gaze locked onto yours, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “And yet… I don’t think I could imagine my life without you.”
Your brain took a second to catch up. “Wait, what?”
Riddle took a breath, as if bracing himself, and then met your eyes with the most serious expression you’d ever seen on him. “I’m saying that I—” he hesitated, his cheeks turning pink, but his voice was steady, “I’m in love with you.”
You stood there, stunned, staring at him in complete disbelief. Riddle Rosehearts just confessed his love to you.
“…Even after all the dumb stuff?” you asked, still processing.
Riddle laughed again, that soft, endearing laugh that made your heart flip. “Especially after all the dumb stuff.”
There was a beat of silence where you just stared at each other, and for once, your usually silly brain kicked into overdrive. You stepped closer, leaning in with a sudden smoothness you didn’t even know you were capable of.
“Well,” you said, your voice dropping to a low murmur as you tilted your head toward him, “lucky for you… I’m your idiot.”
And before Riddle could even respond, you kissed him.
It was soft, and sweet, and everything perfect. For a moment, Riddle was so surprised he froze, but then he melted into it, his hand gently cupping your face like he’d been waiting forever to do this.
When you pulled back, Riddle was completely flustered, his face red as a tomato, but there was a dazed smile on his lips. “That… That was unfair.”
You grinned, leaning your forehead against his. “You love it.”
Riddle shook his head, still smiling. “I really do.”
And from that moment on, it was clear: you may be the academy’s resident chaos agent, but you were his chaos agent, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
You finally got a private moment to yourself. It was time to say goodbye to the villain system that you may or may not have gotten fond of.
The notification flashed across your vision, blindingly bright:
[Congratulations! You’ve accumulated enough points to finally say goodbye to the system.]
You blinked. "Wait… really? I can finally get rid of you?"
[Yes. It’s been a wild ride, hasn’t it?]
Wild ride was an understatement. The system had dragged you through schemes, quests, and enough drama to fill a ten-season TV show, all for the purpose of toppling your sister's reign of terror. And now, at long last, you were free.
"...So that's it?" you asked. "No final boss fight? No sudden plot twist where you take over my body and reveal you’re the real villain?"
There was a pause before the next notification popped up.
[Actually... about that plot twist...]
You groaned. "I knew it. What is it this time? Are you an evil AI? A demon? Oh God, please tell me you’re not my fairy godmother in disguise."
[I’m… actually the original villainess.]
You stared at the screen for a solid five seconds. "...What."
[Yeah. You, uh, you kinda possessed me.]
You blinked rapidly, your brain short-circuiting. "WHAT?!"
[I was the original villainess of this world. The real one. You didn’t just get isekai’d into some random character. You got me, because I wanted you]
"Oh my God," you muttered. "You’ve been here the whole time?"
[Yup. Watching you fumble around like an idiot. No offense.]
"None taken, but wow—uh, okay," you said, rubbing your forehead. "So I’ve just been… helping you take revenge on your sister this whole time?"
[Well, duh.] The system sounded almost smug. [She tormented me horrifically when I was still alive. That’s why I pushed you to make her life miserable. I wanted justice.]
"Justice," you repeated, thinking back to all the chaos, sabotage, and general insanity. "That was justice?"
[Look, we both know she deserved it.]
You couldn’t exactly argue with that. "I mean, fair. So what now? You just leave?"
There was a long pause before the system replied.
[Well... you actually have more points than you need. You can buy my identity if you want. Get the full story. You know, if you're curious.]
You hesitated for a second, but then shrugged. "Eh, why not. Hit me with it."
The system pinged, and suddenly, memories flooded your mind—her memories. You saw everything: her upbringing, her struggles, how she had tried so hard to be perfect for her family, only for her sister to constantly outshine her. You saw the cruel way her sister belittled her, humiliated her in front of the court, all while smiling sweetly to the outside world.
And then… the tragic ending, where the villainess was cast aside, labeled a monster, and killed.
By the end of it, you felt like you’d been punched in the gut.
"Oh, wow," you whispered. "She really was awful to you."
[Told you.]
"Man… I’m so sorry," you said, your voice softening. "You went through all that, and then you ended up stuck with me."
[Honestly? It was kinda fun watching you screw up everything at first.] The system’s tone was teasing now, but there was an undeniable warmth underneath it. [But you did a good job. Better than I ever did. You were a little unhinged, but hey, that’s probably why I liked you.]
You couldn’t help but laugh. "Thanks, I guess? I tried my best."
[You did more than that.] There was a strange fondness in the system’s voice. [You turned this whole world upside down. You made people laugh, cry, and probably question their sanity. Honestly, I couldn’t have asked for a better revenge.]
For a moment, you felt a lump form in your throat. "So… what now? Do you just disappear?"
[Yeah. It’s time for me to move on. But… hey, I’m rooting for you. Go live your best life. Be happy. And if you ever need to knock your sister down a peg, do it in style. For me.]
You smiled, blinking away the sudden wetness in your eyes. "You bet I will. And hey—wherever you go, I hope you get to relax for once. You deserve it."
[Pfft, I doubt it, but thanks.]
There was a brief pause, then another notification popped up.
[Goodbye, little reader. It’s been real. And remember—always aim for the drama. It makes life more interesting.]
With that, the screen dimmed, and the system was gone.
You stared at the empty space where the notifications used to be. "Aim for the drama, huh?" you muttered, a grin tugging at your lips. "Well, I guess that’s one thing I’m good at."
As you turned around, ready to move forward without the system hovering over
you, you felt something. A strange, gentle sensation, like the faintest brush of a breeze, except it wasn’t just that. It was warmer, more personal, and… oddly comforting.
It took a second, but then it hit you. "Wait—"
You froze, your breath catching in your throat. Was this—?
It was as if the original villainess was giving you a ghostly hug. Soft, delicate, but so real you could almost feel her presence.
Tears welled up in your eyes, completely out of nowhere. You weren’t supposed to feel emotional! Not over a system—no, not just a system—a person who had suffered more than you ever realized.
"I… I’m sorry I couldn’t fix everything for you," you whispered, your voice cracking. "I tried, I really did, but…"
You felt that warmth grow a little stronger, like she was reassuring you, telling you that you had done enough. More than enough. Maybe, in a way, you’d freed her. Given her peace.
The weight of that ghostly embrace made your heart swell, and before you could stop yourself, you started crying. Again. But not the ugly, chaotic crying from before—this was softer, deeper. The kind of crying that cleansed your soul.
"I’ll do it," you whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks. "I’ll finish what I started. I’ll take her down. Not just for me—but for you."
The presence seemed to linger for a moment longer, and then it was gone, leaving behind a quiet strength in its place.
You wiped your eyes, steeling yourself. The resolution hardened in your chest like iron. Everything you had been planning, all the revenge, the chaos you had been orchestrating, it wasn’t just some game anymore. It was personal.
For her.
With a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and looked out toward the path ahead, a fire burning brighter than ever inside you.
"I’ll finish this," you muttered, fists clenching. "And it’s going to be beautiful."
And with that, you walked forward, no longer just a reader in someone else’s story.
This time, you were the one in control.
The day of your wedding to Riddle was perfect. Every detail was as if the universe had conspired to make sure nothing went wrong. The air was filled with the sweet scent of flowers, and laughter echoed throughout the grand venue. Your friends were all there, supporting you—Ace and Deuce bickering over who looked better in their suits, Cater contantly checking if everything was aesthetically pleasing, and Trey managing everything behind the scenes with his usual calm, though you caught him grinning at you more than once, proud as ever. Even Che'nya had shown up, popping in and out of sight as he pleased, throwing teasing remarks at anyone who passed by.
Your sister, however, was absolutely seething. She stood stiffly, dressed impeccably, but with a scowl that could burn down the entire venue. You knew she was fuming because she had always imagined herself in your place, standing beside Riddle. Too bad for her—you had the upper hand now.
You glanced at her briefly as you passed by, a wicked smile tugging at your lips. “Didn’t think you’d have the guts to show your face here. I almost admire it,” you whispered sweetly as you walked past her, arm in arm with Riddle.
She opened her mouth to retort, but before she could get a word out, you tossed one last barb. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to toss my bouquet to you. Maybe you'll get married next? You know, if they can find someone that can stand you?”
Riddle squeezed your hand as if to remind you to behave, but even he had a hint of a smirk on his face. Your friends snickered behind you, and Che'nya, perched casually on a railing, added a quiet, “Oof, that’s gotta sting.”
The ceremony itself was beautiful. Riddle stood there looking like he’d stepped out of a fairytale, his usually stern face softened by the moment. As you exchanged vows, there was a lightness to the air that made everything feel surreal. You could see how much he cared in the way his hands trembled ever so slightly when he held yours.
Ace, unable to help himself, whispered loudly, “You sure Riddle isn’t going to pass out from the nerves?”
Deuce elbowed him, but you could barely hold back a laugh. Even Riddle blushed a bit, shooting a glare at Ace but unable to hide his own amusement.
When it was time for the reception, the fun really kicked off. Che'nya gave a surprisingly emotional speech—well, for him at least, as he vanished mid-sentence and then reappeared to finish his speech. Trey quietly made sure everything ran smoothly, even sneaking a slice of cake for you before the official cake-cutting, while Ace and Deuce took over the dance floor with some wild moves that had everyone laughing. Cater even got caught spiking the drinks and you couldn't help but laugh.
After the wedding, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden light over the celebration. Everything had gone smoothly, almost too smoothly. Even Riddle’s mother, who was notoriously hard to please, had remained poised and polite throughout. But you knew there was still unfinished business, and the weight of it settled heavily on your chest.
You’d seen the way she treated Riddle for years—through the pages of the webnovel and now, up close. Sure, she liked you, had even hinted at being pleased with your match to Riddle, but that didn’t erase the years of pressure and manipulation she had placed on him. The burden he had carried because of her was too great to ignore, and today, of all days, you were not going to let it slide.
You spotted her near the garden fountain, quietly observing the festivities. For a moment, she looked almost serene, her icy exterior softened by the beautiful day. But that didn’t change how you felt.
Taking a deep breath, you walked over. "Lady Rosehearts," you began, your voice steady but laced with unspoken tension.
She turned to you, a smile on her lips. "Ah, my dear. You were magnificent today. Truly the picture of grace and elegance. I couldn't have asked for a better match for my son."
Her words were warm, genuine even, but they only fueled the fire burning in your chest. You didn’t respond right away, just stared at her, waiting for the right moment to unleash what you’d been holding in.
Finally, you spoke, your voice low. "I appreciate your kind words, but there’s something I can’t let go of." You stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "For years, you’ve pushed Riddle to be perfect. You suffocated him with your expectations, and it hurt him. I can’t stand by and let you pretend that didn’t happen."
Lady Rosehearts blinked, caught off guard. She opened her mouth to respond, but you held up a hand.
"You like me, and I’m grateful for that, but I love Riddle." Your voice wavered, not with fear, but with emotion. "And because I love him, I can’t ignore the damage you’ve caused. The pressure you put on him to be someone he wasn’t. The way you never let him breathe. You may have done it out of love, but it hurt him."
She stared at you, the weight of your words sinking in. There was no immediate defense, no cold dismissal. She simply looked… surprised.
"I…" she began, but faltered. "I thought I was doing what was best for him. I wanted him to succeed, to be respected."
"But at what cost?" you snapped, unable to hold back the edge in your voice. "You wanted him to be respected so much that you never let him make his own choices. He deserves to be happy. And he deserves your respect, not just as your son, but as a person."
The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating. You could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes, the realization that perhaps, just perhaps, she hadn’t done as well by Riddle as she thought.
Before she could respond, Riddle appeared beside you, having noticed the tension from across the garden. He stood tall, his usual calm demeanor in place, but you could sense the vulnerability beneath it.
"Mother," he said quietly, his voice steady but with a new strength behind it. "She’s right."
His mother turned to him, the surprise evident on her face. "Riddle…"
"I know you wanted the best for me. I know you love me. But I needed more than just discipline and expectations. I needed to know that it was okay to be myself. To fail, even." He paused, and his eyes softened. "I love you, Mother. But you have to let me live my life. I’m not a perfect image for you to sculpt."
The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken words. You held your breath, waiting for her reaction, unsure of what to expect. You had always imagined her to be unmovable, too set in her ways to ever change.
But then, her expression softened. She took a step toward Riddle, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. "I… didn’t realize. I thought I was protecting you. But I see now that I may have been too harsh, too controlling." She paused, her gaze shifting between you and Riddle. "You’re right. Both of you. And I am truly sorry."
You blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in her voice. This was not the cold, unyielding woman you had expected. There was genuine remorse in her eyes.
She turned to you, her tone softer. "Thank you. For helping him find his way. And for standing by his side."
For a moment, the three of you stood there, the weight of years of tension slowly lifting. It wasn’t a perfect resolution—years of damage couldn’t be erased with one conversation—but it was a start.You sighed, the anger that had been simmering inside you finally ebbing away. "I only did what anyone who loves him would do," you said, glancing at Riddle with a soft smile.
Riddle’s mother nodded, and though her usual composure was still in place, there was a warmth in her expression that you hadn’t seen before. "Then I’m glad he found someone like you." But you saw her expression crack a little and so did Riddle.
Then, Riddle, ever the perfect son, stepped forward. "Mother, it’s alright." His voice was soft, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t often seen. He reached out and offered her something you never expected—a hug.
For a moment, she hesitated. Then, slowly, she stepped into his embrace, her arms wrapping tightly around him. It was quiet, emotional, and—before you knew it—you were also pulled into it.
The warmth of the group hug surrounded you, Riddle’s mother surprisingly holding you a little tighter than you expected, as if silently acknowledging the forgiveness Riddle was able to give because of your presence by his side.
She then pulled away, wiped her tears and wiped the tears that you didn't realize were falling from your eyes either. "Congratulations, again, I'm proud of you both" was all she said as she turned to leave.
As she stepped away, leaving you and Riddle alone in the garden, you let out a long breath, feeling a sense of closure you hadn’t expected.
Riddle turned to you, his expression soft and full of gratitude. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For standing up for me. For everything."
You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. "You don’t need to thank me. We’re in this together, remember?"
He squeezed your hand gently, his usual stoic expression melting away into something softer, more vulnerable. "I know. And I wouldn’t have it any other way."
From across the garden, you saw Trey and Che'nya watching, Trey giving a subtle nod of approval, while Che'nya grinned, undoubtedly waiting to pounce with some teasing remark later.
But for now, you just stood there with Riddle, the weight of the day finally settling in. You’d won—both the battle for his heart and the battle for his freedom. And in that moment, everything felt right.
The courtroom was packed, filled with nobles from all across the empire. This was the moment you’d been waiting for, orchestrated with the help of your closest friends: Trey’s calm, methodical planning, Cater’s relentless information gathering, Ace and Deuce’s enthusiasm (and occasional chaos), and, of course, Riddle, who stood by your side, his presence a steady reassurance.
Your sister stood at the center of attention, oblivious to the storm about to hit. For years, she had manipulated and destroyed anyone who dared stand in her way. She thought she was untouchable, the darling of the nobility, admired and respected. But you knew the truth, and so did everyone in this room, thanks to the carefully gathered evidence that was about to expose her for the monster she was.
Cater had planted seeds of the truth you found out that grew into full-fledged whispers about your sister’s darker deeds. Even now, the tension in the room was palpable as people murmured, casting glances her way.
You stepped forward, the letter you held clutched tightly in your hand. Riddle gave you a small nod of encouragement, his eyes steely as he took his place beside you.
"Ladies and gentlemen," you began, your voice clear and sharp, cutting through the room's murmurs. "I come to you today not with accusations, but with the truth. The truth of the heinous crimes committed by my sister."
There was a gasp from the crowd, the air thick with shock and intrigue. Your sister's face remained calm, but you saw the flicker of worry in her eyes.
"She has embezzled from the kingdom’s treasury, siphoning off funds meant for the empire's welfare," you declared, holding up the documents that Trey had meticulously helped you gather. "She has blackmailed noble families into silence, using threats and false accusations to maintain her hold over them. And worst of all—"
You paused, letting the tension build as you cast your gaze over the room, making sure every pair of eyes was locked on you. Then, with quiet, deliberate force, you spoke.
"She has been responsible for the poisoning of the emperor’s own cousin, Lady Astoria. A death that was pinned on an innocent maid."
The room exploded into chaos, gasps, and shouts of disbelief filling the air. Your sister’s face drained of color, her facade finally cracking as people turned toward her, expressions of shock and outrage growing with every second.
"These documents prove every crime," you continued, your voice strong and unwavering as Cater passed around copies of the evidence to the nobles. "She thought she could keep her secrets buried. But not anymore."
"These are lies!" your sister shrieked, her voice desperate as she clutched at the air, trying to regain control. "This is a setup! You’ve all been deceived!"
But it was too late. The emperor himself stood up, his eyes narrowing in fury as he glanced over the evidence. The knight commander beside him was already moving, her sword drawn as the guards approached your sister.
"For your crimes against the empire, you are sentenced to death," the emperor declared, his voice cold and final.
Your sister screamed, fighting as the guards seized her, but there was no escape now. The nobles who once fawned over her turned away in disgust, her power crumbling in mere moments.
Riddle’s hand found yours, his grip tight but comforting as you watched her dragged away. It should’ve felt sweet, but instead, you felt a strange heaviness settle in your chest. This was the end, wasn’t it?
As the execution was carried out in the courtyard, the crowd watching with bated breath, you stood off to the side, Riddle at your side, and your friends close by. Ace whispered some snide comment about how dramatic everything was, and Deuce elbowed him to shut up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.
When it was over, the finality of it hit you like a truck. You had done it—exposed her to the world, avenged not just yourself, but the original villainess too. You expected to feel victorious, but instead, a deep sadness settled in your chest. She should've been the one to see this.
And then, just as you were about to turn away, you saw her.
A faint, ethereal figure stood near the edge of the courtyard. The original villainess. Her eyes were softer than you imagined, her expression free of the bitterness that had fueled her desire for revenge. She looked… peaceful.
Tears welled in your eyes, and before you knew it, you were crying, really crying. Ugly, messy sobs that you couldn’t control. All the rage, all the sorrow, everything you had carried from her spilled out in that moment.
"I did it," you whispered, barely audible, but you knew she heard you. "I did it for you."
The specter of the original villainess smiled, a soft, almost sisterly expression on her face. And then, in a moment that almost felt too surreal, you felt her—felt her give you a final ghostly embrace. It was as if the weight of her vengeance had lifted, her spirit no longer bound by the chains of hatred. She was free now, and so were you.
With a final nod, the specter faded into the night, leaving you standing there, tears streaming down your face. You wiped them away as best as you could, sniffling and trying to compose yourself, but the lump in your throat remained.
The warmth of the original villainess's hug lingered long after she faded, her presence now a bittersweet memory. You stood in the quiet, feeling an overwhelming sense of both loss and completion. For the first time, it felt like the weight of both your lives had lifted.
Then, a soft flutter of wings caught your attention. A small dove descended gently, perching on your shoulder. It was so light, so delicate, and for a moment, it just sat there, as if offering comfort. You held your breath, watching it. The dove turned its head toward you, as though it knew. As though she knew.
You blinked, tears pooling in your eyes again as the dove gave a soft coo and flew away, soaring into the sky. Something inside you broke at the sight—something that had been held together for too long. The tears came harder now, not out of sorrow, but of release.
"She's free…" you whispered, your voice trembling. "She's finally free."
Your chest heaved with emotion, sobs you couldn’t control spilling out as you watched the dove disappear into the distance. All this time, everything you had done, every struggle, every sacrifice, was for her. And now, it was over.
Riddle turned toward you, concern flickering in his eyes. "Are you alright?"
You nodded, blinking away the last of your tears. "Yeah… yeah, I am. It’s just—" You paused, looking up at the sky. "My sister’s gone now. And I think… I'm at peace."
Riddle stood beside you, his own heart heavy with the weight of your emotions. Without a word, he reached out, gently pulling you into his arms. His embrace was soft but firm, grounding you when you felt like you might fall apart.
Riddle’s grip on your hand tightened, and when you looked at him, there was something unspoken in his gaze—understanding, maybe. "You did what was right," he said softly. "And now it’s over."
You took a deep breath and nodded, squeezing his hand in return. "Yeah. Now it’s over."
With Riddle by your side, and your friends waiting for you just beyond the courtyard, you knew that the hardest part was behind you. You had avenged the original villainess, exposed your sister for what she truly was, and now, finally, you could walk away from all of it.
Riddle leaned closer, his voice gentle but filled with quiet strength. "Come on. Let’s go."
Together, hand in hand, you turned away from the past and walked toward the future—your future—with the love of your life, your husband, Riddle, by your side.
Boy, was this a ride to write, but i genuinely haven't had this much fun writing before, and it got longer as i went.
For the next Trashy Novel Chronicles, which twst char would you like to see? I have a few plots planned for these, I'll eventually write them both but which one do y'all wanna see first?
I’m sorry to all the Jamil fans for putting him through torment (I’m not, the joke was right there and I couldn’t not make it)
9 left before everyone in the student body has a design! After that, I’ll make one for Grim and open up these designs for preorders since y’all seem to love them so much!!
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The longer I play Obey Me, the more I feel like Obey Me is a story about how the MC, in their quest to seek acceptance by the people they care about, ends up destroying themselves in the process and losing the very thing that made them so special and loved in the first place.
In the beginning of OG, they started off as just a normal human who got whisked away to a weird ass world where literally nobody respects them. Despite this, they recognised from the beginning that these demons and angels were not so different from humans. MC's ability to see the demons as actual people and not just beings controlled by their sins was what allowed them to form close bonds with them. They had good intentions to reunite the demon brothers who had undergone centuries of misunderstanding, resentment, and pent up grief. Even though they were excessively nosy, MC's unique position as a complete outsider allowed them to see just how much love the demon brothers had for each other, and how they can become closer if everybody would just better communicate with each other. Serving as the bridge to better improve the brothers' relationships was what convinced the demon brothers to also see MC as a member of their family.
But as the MC became more involved in the Devildom's problems, they started to adopt the same toxic traits that had created wedges between the brothers in the first place. From relying heavily on their pacts to subdue the brothers, to allowing a curse to control Barbatos (even though they had the ability to break it), to going along with the brothers' manipulative scheme to trick Satan into reconciling with Lucifer when Satan ran away to the human world -- it's almost like MC has unconsciously picked up on some of their loved ones' behaviour. Gone are the days where MC brings in a new perspective to problems. Now, they just embrace the chaos and their more darker traits, for that is what is expected of them to survive in the Devildom. And since everyone within their circle puts them on a pedestal, this further affirms to the MC that this is how they should be.
Dealing with the affairs of the Devildom had also caused the MC to grow more apathetic. In the beginning, they had been actively taking steps to form pacts with the brothers and were generally very invested in freeing Belphie from the attic. They remained true to themselves and insisted that they form a pact with Satan based on mutual trust and understanding, and not just as a means to smite Lucifer. Despite being in a helpless situation, MC never refused to give up their agency. But the longer MC gets involved with these shenanigans, the more they grew... numb to everything.
Solomon bringing me back to the Devildom unannounced? Oh, sure. Diavolo and Solomon hiding the reasons for my sudden return? Not my problem.
Simeon facing a problem to the point of having a quarter of the cast acting as his bodyguards? Eh, I'll just ignore it until I can't anymore.
Watching and waiting. That's what they have resorted to doing.
And that mindset of kicking problems down the line until it lands on MC's doorstep and they have no choice but to act -- that's exactly how they have been acting when they were stuck in NB, hasn't it? MC didn't bother forming pacts with the past version of the brothers until they were given an ultimatum, and even then, they simply relied on the convenient timing of each brother struggling with an inner crisis to swoop in, resolve the situation and tick them off their checklist.
MC in NB seems like an unfortunate culmination of everything they faced so far. They're too apathetic to care about getting sent to an unfamiliar place once again, too desensitised to life in the Devildom to reclaim their agency, and too desperate to earn the love of their former family to even think about anything else. They became so co-dependent to the demon brothers that they seem to think they cannot live without them or their affection, even if the ones they are living with in the past are different people from the ones they grew to love in the present.
The phrase "You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain" fits way too perfectly for the Obey Me MC. After all, MC keeps getting rewarded every time they try to get themselves killed (or even when they actually got killed). Maybe that's the only way they know how to resolve problems.
So if they can't die as the hero, they'll just learn to live as the villain.
