A Regressed Villain: Heroines, Villainesses and Me?

20 January 2031,

Inside City A, at the edge of Sector 17, inside a rundown building.

Raj entered the small, dimly lit apartment with a heaviness in his steps given sunset was just an hour later.

He made his way directly towards his room. Given the size of the apartment, he still had his own personal room. Reaching there, he locked the door behind him, the faint creak of the hinges the only sound in the quiet space.

Without pausing, he crossed the living room to a loose floorboard near the corner. Crouching, he pried it up, revealing a small wooden box stuffed with cash.

"Bastards," he muttered, slamming a fresh wad of notes into the stash. His lips curled in frustration as he counted.

"That manager—taking the bigger cut, as if he did all the work. After a haul like that, this is what I get?" His voice was bitter, his hands moving with practiced speed as he hid the box again, pressing the panel back into place.

Standing up, Raj headed toward the dinner table.

A plate of food sat waiting, covered with a cloth, alongside a neatly folded note in his sister's handwriting: Raj, I've gone to college. Eat your dinner. Rest well! (⁠◠⁠_◕⁠)

He read the note twice, his jaw softening slightly, but the weight of his frustration lingered.

He sat down, uncovering the food and beginning to eat in silence.

Midway through his meal, his phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with an unknown number.

Frowning, he picked it up.

A message with a video attachment flashed across the screen. The text read: To the guardian of Amrita. Urgent—please see the attached video and report this to the authorities.

'Authorities?', Raj's brow furrowed as he tapped on the video, clearly confused. This number was indeed from a professor at her sister's academy, as indicated by her caller ID, but the seriousness of mentioning the police clearly had him sitting at home.

The screen filled with grainy footage of a large, wood-paneled office.

Amrita stood rigidly near a few chairs, her face pale and her hands clenched tightly downward, her eyes visibly widened and trembling with tears threatening to come at any moment.

Across from her stood an older man with a gaunt face, a long white beard, and sharp, cold eyes. A golden cane rested in his hand, tapping against the floor in a slow rhythm.

"Sir, please," Amrita's voice cracked with desperation, her tone breaking. "Don't expel me. I-I promise I'll improve. Just give me one more chance!"

The man's lips twisted into a sinister smirk as his gaze swept over her body, before halting over her bust.

"Oh, Miss Amrita," he began, his voice low and dripping with malice. He leaned closer, his eyes shamelessly lingering on her chest. "You've already wasted every chance. The question now is... what are you willing to do to fix it? But I must say, your skin looks so soft and untouched. Imagine my hands on you, exploring every inch. I'll make you feel things you've never felt before."

Amrita recoiled slightly, her voice trembling as her steps moved towards the old man, erratic and clearly filled with visible tremble. "I'll do anything—extra assignments, volunteer work—anything academic. Please, I'll prove myself!"

The old man chuckled darkly, stepping around the desk with deliberate slowness as he moved towards a window from where sunlight was filtering, his back towards Amrita, his cane tapping on the floor.

"Anything, you say?" He stopped there with a chuckle and in a mocking tone complimented, his breath heavy and deliberate. "You're quite the dedicated student, aren't you? Especially that body of yours. You have such a tight little body, Amrita. It's a shame to see all of that go to waste on books and classrooms. You were made for... other things..."

Amrita stiffened, tears brimming in her eyes. She sprinted, falling to the old man's knees, her head placed over his shoes as she pleaded, "S-sir, p-please, don't expel me."

He straightened, his hand moving down to her shoulder, squeezing it firmly as he lifted her chin to face him, his eyes looking at her bowed figure. "Well, then. You know how perfect those hips of yours are? They'd fit perfectly against me. Think about it, Amrita—one night, and you'll be thanking me for the rest of your life."

"I-I don't understand," Amrita's mouth was not visible for this part, yet her voice was clear.

The old man's grip slid lower before he pulled her up with his hand, smirking as tears slid down her face. As the old man locked his eyes on her breast area, he added, "That uniform barely hides anything, doesn't it? Those curves... so young, so firm. You should be proud of what you have—it's a privilege to share it, and wouldn't it be nice if the first one to enjoy it were me?""

Amrita's eyes widened in shock and horror. She shook her head violently. "No! Please, don't do this! I—I'll do anything else. I swear, I'll work harder. Just don't—"

"Enough!" His voice boomed, and he pointed his cane at her trembling figure. "Do you think tears will help you here? You should be grateful I'm offering you this chance at all. For a poor girl like you, warming my bed should be a pleasure, and with those trembling legs and that perfect little mouth, you'd look so much better on your knees, Amrita. I could show you how to really earn your place here."

"P-please," Amrita said, clearing her tears and giving a 90-degree bow.

The old man turned his gaze towards the window, gesturing to her as if dismissing her. A last voice came from him, "You're quite a sight, you know. So innocent, so helpless. That shy little face, those big, scared eyes—do you even know how tempting you are? Stop fighting it, and give me what I want. It'll be so much easier for both of us."

Amrita stood with her eyes filled with tears and turned, her voice stammering and fading due to sobs, "I—I will..."

"Think it through, Amrita. The way your body fills out that uniform… perfection. Every inch of you is begging to be unwrapped, Amrita. Don't waste my time pretending otherwise," the director uttered for the last time. Though his face was not visible, considering he had turned towards the window, his words were clear.

The video ended abruptly.

"Huh?" Raj's hand trembled as he stared at the darkened screen.

The phone slipped from his grip and clattered onto the table, his entire body taut with fury.

"Haa...Wh-what the..." His breaths came in shallow bursts, his mind replaying the Old man's vile words over and over.

"Disgusting... bastard," he muttered, his voice shaking.

Bam!

He slammed his fist onto the table, making the utensils jump.

His face twisted with rage, his teeth gritting so hard it felt as though they might crack.

Just then, the door creaked open, and Amrita walked in, her usual bright energy dimmed due to the director's call regarding her expulsion, but still present as she looked towards her brother, who had dared to come home late. "Raj, you're home early."

Raj didn't respond, his head lowered, his hands balled into fists.

Amrita frowned, stepping closer. As she placed her bag on the table, she remembered she needed to ask Raj about his work. Naturally, she trusted the words of the director and knew he was involved in scams, but she still couldn't help but ask him directly, "Raj, do you fraud people and scam—"

But before she could complete her sentence, it appeared Raj didn't want to hear her. His eyes were blazing with anger. "Were you about to be expelled from the academy?"

'!'

"...What? Y-yes," Amrita replied, though she wanted to reprimand this brother of hers, who was involved in such a crime. She halted, confused by his angered expression.

After all, shouldn't she be the one enraged?

She got herself thrown out of the academy due to his mistakes, and instead of feeling guilty, he was acting like this.

Amrita froze, raising an eyebrow as she inquired, thinking maybe the director had called him to inform him about the explosion and his deeds. "H-how do you know about that? Did the director tell you?"

She was naturally very grateful to the director, who had not reported her to the police or any local authorities but instead tried to expel her, making her think that she should tell him thank you next time and prove herself by working hard in her studies.

Raj's lip curled in a mix of rage and disbelief as he recognized that the old man in the video was indeed the director. "So it's true."

Amrita took a seat at the table, her brother's head down and the visible sound of his hoarse voice showing his anger. He sighed, perhaps feeling guilty and expressing his emotions in the form of anger about how she had been expelled from the academy. She prompted him to relax, adding, "The director was understanding and very kind-hearted. Even with such a big mistake, he forgave me and canceled my expulsion."

"Haah... B...a...stard..." Raj's breathing grew heavier as her words clashed violently with the images from the video.
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"I—I'll kill you!" His hand shot out, grabbing the phone and shoving it in his pocket.

"Raj?! What's with your words!?" Amrita's voice wavered.

His reply came in a low growl, his body tense with barely restrained fury. "That bastard will pay for this. I'll kill him with my bare hands."

Amrita's face clearly showed her confusion, and she was taken aback as she saw Raj standing and throwing the chair on the floor due to his sudden outburst. "What are you talking about? What happened?"

Raj didn't answer.

He stormed toward the door, his movements erratic and wild. Amrita reached out, trying to stop him, but he shoved past her without a second glance.