#vdc

You open your eyes to a dark room. You feel strangely alert. There’s no grogginess or desire to stay in bed. It’s unnatural. What time is it? You fumble around the nightstand, searching for your phone.

You click it on. It blinds you for a moment and you squint. 4:01 am, it reads. It’s not your lock screen though. The background is a dark purple with a familiar dripping red apple in the center. It’s framed in swirling gold. It’s a variation of the Pomefiore crest. This has to be Vil’s. Who else would have this lock screen? But why is it in your room? Did he leave it when he checked everyone’s rooms? It seems unlikely given his personality. Either way, you need to give it back. He’ll wake up in a frenzy if you don’t do it now. You’d rather deal with a half asleep and grumbly Vil than an awake and frantic one. 

You sit up and place your feet on the floor. There’s a pair of plush and cozy slippers underneath your feet… You don’t have luxurious slippers. You furrow your brow. Something’s off. 

Nonetheless, you slip on the comfy shoes and shuffle to the light switch. You flick it on. 

The first thing you notice is the mirror. Vil’s reflection stares back at you. You raise your eyebrows. It copies you. You glance at your body. You’re wearing the dorm leader’s expensive silk pajamas. You pinch yourself and wince in pain. This is real. You’ve somehow swapped bodies with the Queen of Pomefiore. You have to solve this.

You spin around on your heels and stride out the door. Your slippers pad down the hall. You knock on a specific door and wait. It doesn’t take long for the occupant to answer.

“Roi de Poison?” Rook questions, his voice still rough from sleep.

“Let me in,” you command.

The vice leader steps aside as you to brush past. He turns on the light, closing the door. 

“You know I’m not Vil,” you state, turning around. 

“Oui,” he confirms, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

“It’s [Y/N],” you answer.

Rook raises an eyebrow. 

“Your gait is the same, Trickster,” the hunter tells you with a nod. 

“I’m not surprised you know,” you comment, “Do you know what’s going on?” 

“Non, I’m just as baffled as you are. I’ve never heard of a magicless person and mage swapping bodies,” Rook replies, before looking curious. “Did you come to me because you want to get this sorted before Beautiful Vil wakes up?”

“You’re sharp as ever, Rook,” you confirm, “Yes, he’ll flip his lid once he finds out. I would like to prevent that.”

“I agree, Trickster. It’s for the best. I assume you have a plan,” the hunter replies. 

“Of course, we break down Crowley’s door and demand answers,” you tell him. 

Rook laughs, “Such an aggressive tactic from our lovely Trickster! I’m most honored to see such a beautiful and unique side to you. I will do all I can to help.” 

“Including my hair,” you add. 

Rook lights up. “I’m glad you’ve already thought of that, Trickster. I was going to offer my assistance.” 

“As long as I have a reference photo, I can recreate Vil’s makeup. I’m well-versed in skincare, so that shouldn’t be a problem. That being said, do you have any recommendations on what toner and serum to use for Vil’s skin today?” 

You lean in to let the hunter get a better look. Rook’s eyes widen before he breaks into a delighted grin. 

“Trickster has amazing foresight!” he praises, before examining Vil’s skin. “I would suggest the Shrinking Toner to reduce pore size and the Luminous Serum to brighten the skin.” 

“Perfect. Thank you. Get ready and come to Vil’s room to help me,” you instruct before leaving. 

“Oui!” Rook agrees with enthusiasm. 

You shake your head with a smile, striding down the hall in Vil’s comfy slippers.

——————

“Bang on his door,” you instruct. 

“Oui! Trickster’s suggestions are straight to the point and no-nonsense. It’s so different from how you usually behave. It’s magnifique,” he compliments. 

“Yes, yes, hurry up. We don’t have all day,” you urge.

You wait before the thudding of footsteps is heard. The bird man opens the door with ruffled feathers. He’s wearing dark indigo flannel pajama bottoms and a ratty white t-shirt with black crows and feathers.

“What is all this racket? It’s 4:45 in the morning. Couldn’t this have waited?” Crowley scolds, before pausing to register who’s in front of him. “Mr. Schoenheit and Mr. Hunt, what are you doing here?”

“It’s [Y/N]. Vil and I have somehow switched bodies. I want answers before he wakes up in hysterics. It would be in your best interest to let us in,” you demand.

Crowley is stunned but steps back. You sweep past him with regal elegance. Crowley raises an eyebrow at your demeanor. Rook slips in, standing beside you. The headmaster closes the door and puts a hand to his chin. 

“A mage fueling a magical phenomenon for themselves and a magicless person isn’t unheard of. The caster has to be extremely powerful, but Mr. Schoenheit fits the bill,” he muses.

You stay quiet as Crowley thinks.

“The only thing I can think of is wish magic. Do you have a strong wish?” He asks.

“Yes, I wanted to perform on stage in front of an audience,” you reply.

The headmaster nods before consulting Rook, “Mr. Hunt, you know Mr. Schoenheit well. Is there anything he desires more than anything else?” 

“Oui, Roi de Poison wishes to break out of his role as a villain,” he answers. 

“Everything fits the requirements for this phenomenon to occur,” Crowley murmurs before speaking up with a clap. “I know what happened!

“Sometimes when two people close by have an intense wish that can be solved with one solution, the ambient magic grants them an opportunity to obtain both wishes. Once both wishes are fulfilled, the magic will revert to normal,” he explains.

You’re silent, before turning to Rook. 

“My wish won’t be fulfilled until VDC ends. I want to perform on stage, so I’ll be filling in for Vil,” you inform.

There’s a flash of deep concern before he covers it with a familiar encouraging smile.

“I have no doubt you’ll be able to fill in for Beautiful Vil! I will support you in every way I can. As the resident Vil expert, I can help coach you,” Rook offers with an elegant bow.

You cut his movements off. 

“I’m Roi de Poison for now. I expect to be addressed as such. I won’t tolerate a slip of the tongue. I suggest you start practicing in private. I’m sure you know what will happen if you don’t,” you punctuate with an icy voice. 

Rook jolts with wide eyes. His hands fly up into a surrendering pose. 

“Oui, Roi de Poison, I will heed your command,” he complies. 

“Good, I expect nothing less from my vice leader,” you state, before addressing Crowley. “That’s the most helpful you’ve been since I’ve arrived here. I suggest you get your act together before your negligence is exposed. If people learn of my living conditions, my fans will riot.” 

Crowley looks at you, gobsmacked. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times. 

“Are–are you threatening me?” He stutters.

You narrow your eyes. 

“The only thing I’m threatening you to do is your job. If you don’t want your reputation to go down the drain, I suggest renovating Ramshackle Dorm. I’ll even be gracious,” you say, emphasizing his signature word. “I’ll give my portion of the VDC reward to fund the operation.”

The headmaster stares at you in shock. Your eyes sweep the older man’s form, evaluating him.

“You also have… questionable tastes. As a sponsor, I will be consulted before the designs are finalized. It’s nonnegotiable. Thank you for your assistance, headmaster. Rook, we’re leaving,” you command, before sweeping out of the room.

——————

You lower yourself to the ground, dismounting the broom. You prop it against the wall.

“Trickster, you’re a natural! You fly and handle your magic like Beautiful Vil. It’s elegant and powerful. It’s a beautiful flurry of flowers in a windstorm,” Rook compares. 

You raise an eyebrow before stating, “Thank you, but I’m more concerned about passing as Vil.”

“Oui! You’ll fool everyone!” Rook reassures.

You drop your Vil act and answer with a smile.

“I’ll fool everyone except for you. You’re too observant,” you correct, sitting next to him. “Thanks for helping out. I wouldn’t be nearly as good if you didn’t correct my walk and give me pointers to handle this body’s magic.” 

“Of course, Trickster. You’re a wonderful and talented person to work with,” he answers. 

“You are too,” you return with a smile.

The two of you fall into comfortable silence. Your eyes slip close and allow yourself to breathe. It’s been hectic these last three hours. You finally have time to process. Your breath slows, as you slip into a meditative state. It’s something you picked up a few years ago. When you meditate, you’re less reactive and more grounded. When you finish, you hear an ear-piercing shriek. 

“That’s our cue,” you comment, standing up. 

“Oui!” Rook agrees, following your lead.

A herd of elephants thunders down the upstairs hallway. There’s a muffled shout. 

“Don’t yell in my ear, henchman!” Grim yells.

A door slams open.

“What’s wrong?! Are you hurt?!” Deuce cries.

You and the vice leader arrive at the foot of the stairs.

“I expect you to back me up,” you tell Rook, slipping into your Vil persona.

“Of course, Roi de Poison, let’s give them a show,” he grins with a bow.

You nod and ascend the stairs. More footsteps join. 

“Is everything ok?” Kalim’s voice resounds, “Jamil’s good at first aid if [Y/N] is hurt.”

“Yo, why do you keep staring at yourself?” Ace questions with mild irritation, “Has Vil infected you? Are you freaking out over a breakout or something?”

Epel pipes up, “You’re kiddin’. Ya woke us up for nothin’? I could’ve slept for another 30 minutes if ya didn’t start hollerin’ like a rooster.”

You breach the stairs with a disapproving expression.

“Epel,” you snap, “Watch your language and accent. If you want to reach your full potential, you must speak with eloquence. No cutting corners. You have to practice in private.” 

The group whips around to face you. You stride up to them. They part, allowing you to peer into your room. Vil gapes at you like a fish out of water.

“Close your mouth. It’s unbecoming,” you tell him, before addressing the others. “We’re having an emergency meeting downstairs. I expect all of you to complete the skincare routine I detailed last night. Once you're done, meet Rook and me in the living room.” 

The group shares a few concerned looks, before dispersing. You turn to the person occupying your body.

“That includes you,” you add before walking away. 

Once you’re out of earshot, Rook reveres you.

“That was the most worthy performance! You live up to your namesake, Trickster. You’ve tricked the others,” he gushes. 

You chuckle at the clever wording and sit down on the sofa. Picking up the papers Rook organized, you flip through them.

“Thank you for giving me written documents about Vil,” you voice, “I suspect you know more about him than he does.” 

“Oui, Roi de Poison has told me that multiple times,” he confirms with a chuckle.

You shake your head with a small smile. Rook’s far better than any of your perverted stalkers and hate fans in your original world. At least the hunter has good intentions and is helpful. You don’t mind his strange antics. You skim through the documents while you wait. 

The first one to arrive is the youngest Pomefiore student. You zero in on him, looking for a fault. 

“Your slip up was improper and your attire is too,” you criticize, “Your vest is wrinkled and your bow is crooked. Rook, take Epel to steam his clothes.”

“Oui!” He complies, ushering the boy out of the room. 

You sigh. You disagree with Vil’s methods. They’re inefficient and callous. Thankfully, you only have to play along for a little while. You can tweak his character after you’ve proven yourself. 

The Clown Crew announces their arrival by sounds rather than sight.

“How dare they kick me out?! It’s my room too,” Grim complains. 

He comes around the corner with Ace and Deuce in tow. You skim over the two Heartslabyul students, before doubling back. You stand up and stalk over. The three freshmen freeze as you bear down on them. You grab Ace’s face and click your tongue.

“You should’ve thought better than to forgo my skincare routine. You underestimate my expertise,” you sneer, releasing his face. “You missed toner, serum, and sunscreen. You're going to do it again. What are the steps?”

“Cleanser, toner, serum, moisturizer, sunscreen,” Ace lists with dead eyes. 

“So you’re capable of absorbing information. Learn to apply it in the future,” you scathe, “Get out of my sight. When you come back, I expect you to have done it right. I don’t need someone on my team who can’t follow basic instructions.”

Ace backs up, startled. The Scarabia students step in. Your attention shifts to the newcomers, allowing your friend to flee.

“Did Ace get in trouble?” Kalim asks, glancing back at the dashing freshman. 

“Indeed, he decided to skip some steps in his skincare routine,” you confirm with distaste. 

Kalim comments, “I would’ve forgotten too if it wasn’t for Jamil.”

“I’m sure you would have,” you retort with an eye roll. 

Rook’s voice comes around the corner. 

“Oui! Monsieur Multi is one of the most helpful people I know. He truly is a master of multitasking and many skills. He’s deserving of his title,” the hunter compliments.

The vice leader reveals himself along with the shortest Pomefiore student. You assess Epel and deem his appearance acceptable. The sunshine student turns to Rook with a blinding smile. 

“Yeah! Jamil’s the best. He’s way smarter than me and super helpful. He also cooks the most delicious food,” Scarbia’s leader praises.

You tune out their ramblings, returning to the couch to refocus on the documents. 

Vil runs with Jack Howl, his childhood friend, every morning at 6 am. They’ve cancelled until VDC has concluded. 

Vil knew Jack as a kid? That’s unexpected. You didn’t even think they knew each other. They’re in different grades and different dorms. However, you’re unsurprised that Vil chooses to work out and run with him in the mornings. The actor seems like the type.

Your body walks in. You glance up to scrutinize Vil’s appearance. Before you can look very hard, Ace sweeps in front of him. He passes the disguised dorm leader and your focus turns to the redhead. Observing his skin for a moment, you find it adequate and retract your gaze. 

“Sit and let’s get started,” you instruct.

Rook takes his place beside you. The others find a seat. Once everyone is settled, you address them.

“Vil and I have switched bodies,” you state. 

The group pauses.

“What?” Deuce blurts out.

“I said Vil and I switched bodies,” you punctuate. 

“You switched bodies?” Kalim clarifies.

You let out an irritated sigh. “Is that not what I just said?”

Ace speaks up. “Wait, who did you switch bodies with?”

You give an unimpressed look. 

“Who else but the person who screamed bloody murder, waking everyone up?” you suggest, looking at the culprit. 

All eyes turn to your body. 

“V—Vil?” Kalim questions hesitantly. 

The dorm leader nods but doesn’t say anything. He continues to glare holes into everything around him. Rook jumps in to ease the tension. 

“Trickster and I found out what happened!” He exclaims, reclaiming the crowd’s attention. “We broke down Crowley’s door and demanded answers.”

“You broke down the headmaster’s door?” Deuce repeats, stunned.

Ace smacks him upside the head.

“I can’t believe you’ve survived this long considering how dumb you are,” Ace quips.

“Hey!” Deuce shouts in defense.

Your voice cuts across, silencing them. 

“It’s an exaggeration.” you clarify, before launching into a summary of the situation. 

“Vil and I won’t switch bodies until after VDC. With that in mind, I will take up the mantle as leader,” you conclude.

Vil bolts up from his chair.

“You can’t do that! You have no right!” he opposes. 

“If you want me to perform in an important movie instead, then we’ll be here longer,” you state. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Vil growls, “You can’t act as me!”

You raise an eyebrow. 

“Why not?” you question. 

“You’re going to mess up,” he snaps, “You have no credentials! I have a reputation to think about. You can’t just parade around in my body. I have so many schedules and habits. You won’t be able to remember them. I refuse to have my body deteriorate because of your incompetence! Unlike you, I have responsibilities. I’m the head of Pomefiore, the leader of this team, and a third-year student! There’s no way you can act as me. You’re unqualified!”

Vil’s voice grows and grows until he’s shouting by the end. His chest heaves up and down. He glares daggers into you. You stare at him with no reaction.

It starts as a quiet scoff in the back of your throat. Then, a small shake makes its way into your shoulders. A chuckle slips out. From there it turns into a wicked laugh, before crescendoing into a demonic cackle. You double over from the force of your howls. You can’t get enough. He’s playing right into your hand. 

It takes a minute to calm down. When you recover, you glance at the others. They stare with disturbed concern and unease. You chuckle to yourself again. You sit up with a sinister smirk. You stare into Vil’s eyes.

“You should think twice before criticizing someone,” you advise. 

‘Someone who’s in your body,’ you silently finish. 

You wait for the implication to sink in. It takes a moment, but Vil’s eyes widen in horror. You put a hand up to stop his line of thinking. You just want to scare him.

“Don’t worry. I won’t do something so barbaric as threatening your body or reputation. As a former top-charting idol, I understand the importance of a well-maintained public image,” you inform, “As for the third-year curriculum, I’ll allow Ace to confirm my credentials.”

Ace gives a wary look before his mouth quarks in a mischievous smile. He doesn’t mind putting Vil in his place. 

“Yeah, if you haven’t noticed, but by some miracle Leona’s test ranking has gone up. That’s because of [Y/N]. They've been teaching and tutoring Leona, since his overblot. They’re up to date with the homework,” Ace brags.

Without waiting for a response, you gesture to Rook.

“And your evaluation of my magic?” You request.

“It’s strong and similar to Roi de Poison’s. I was surprised at how quickly they picked it up. They’ll have no problems posing as you in terms of magical ability,” Rook details.

Vil is still, staring at Rook. You can practically hear the thought swirling in his head: He’s being replaced. You decide to push him over the edge. 

“I don’t think I have to give my resume for my acting, but I’ll ease your mind. I’ve done a few jobs here and there. I was most well-known for my favorite roles: villains. In light of that, you’re quite easy to play,” you reveal. 

There’s a moment of silence before Vil screams and lunges. On instinct, you grab his throat. Vil halts with wide eyes. You take the opportunity to push him back against the wall. He regains his bearings and slashes at your face. You give Vil’s neck a short squeeze. He gasps and his hands fly to your’s. 

His fingernails claw into porcelain wrists. It stings, but you ignore it. You snatch his hands and raise them above his head. You slot yourself against his body and restrain him. Now, you wait. 

Vil struggles. He attempts to bite, kick, and scream his way out of your hold. He’s not thinking. Vil doesn’t remember there are other people here. He’s just focused on you. You don’t flinch and you don’t react. You wait for him to lose steam. 

He becomes desperate with your unresponsiveness. Vil throws everything he has into fighting back. Tears of frustration and anger stream down his face. He’s loud and messy. It’s so different from the put-together, dignified Vil. All he cares about is lashing out and hurting you. 

By the end of the one-sided battle, Vil is heaving, unable to breathe enough air. His body slackens, falling limp. His head is tucked into his chest, hiding his face. He stills and falls silent. His body is still coiled with tension. You finally speak. 

“How does it feel?” 

Vil tenses beneath you, but doesn’t say anything. 

“How does it feel being on the receiving end of your behavior?” you try. 

Vil’s head snaps up. 

“I don’t act like that!” he growls, gritting his teeth. 

You keep your eyes on Vil but address Epel. Your tone is softer. 

“Epel, is this how you feel when Vil insults and criticizes you, then he forces you into compliance just because he’s stronger than you? Is this how you feel?” you question. 

There’s a brief period of silence. The only thing you hear is Vil’s labored breath. 

“Yes,” Epel replies.

You stare at Vil. 

“This is how you act. You poke and prod people’s weaknesses. You’re annoyed when they become upset and resistant to your advice. So, you strongarm them into submission, citing you’re doing it to help them. The reality is you’re hurting people and accumulating their ire. You wonder why people keep treating you like a villain. Wake up and face your reality, Vil,” you state. 

You let him go, stepping back. You turn to face the others. Shaking off the lingering tension as much as you can, you perk up to address them. 

“We’ll have rehearsal as usual. I will lead the team. I expect the same dedication you’ve demonstrated so far. My teaching style will be different, but still effective. I look forward to working together,” you tell them, before looking at Epel. “Epel, I have a special project for you. I’m going to solve Vil’s problem for him. You’ll have a few adventures in the upcoming days. You’ll miss some regular practice, so I’ll privately tutor you.” 

Checking that they understood, you dismiss them. You pick up Vil’s backpack and place Rook’s notes in it. You call out to the two Pomefiore students. They wait for you. You finalize details regarding Epel’s “adventures.” The two other students seem wary of your body against the wall. You make a point ignore him. 

You escort them out of the Ramshackle Dorm. When you get to the door, Rook hesitates. You place a hand against his back and guide him forward. Vil needs to reflect. 

Afterward, you ask for some bandages from Rook. 

—----------

“Wake up and face your reality, Vil.” 

The words echo and swirl in Vil’s head. He sinks to the ground. Vil sits under the spot where [Y/N] restrained him. His head thumps against the wall and he thinks. Did he become a villain? Did he become the very thing he despised? 

He glances at his hands. They bleed. Your hands—he corrects—bleed down your wrists. He sank his nails into your hands when you restrained him. 

This isn’t his body. You promised not to hurt his. He’s already failing to maintain yours. 

Vil feels empty. A void has opened up in his chest. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s not special. He’s a villain and he doesn’t know what to do.

Without his permission, tears slide down his face. He doesn’t have the right to cry. He forced others to feel this way. He didn’t know. However, it doesn’t change the fact Vil hurt others. He caused more pain to them than he feels now. Vil has no right to cry, but can’t stop the spring shower falling from his cheeks. 

Vil looks at his wounded hands and hates himself.

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