I Am The Game's Villain

Finally, after Gruna's embarrassing performance, we were mercifully allowed to eat.

Viessa had graciously invited me to dine with the other Heads at the upper table. A generous offer, sure, but I gave her a polite smile and declined—without saying outright why.

I wasn't about to risk a repeat of the Gruna fiasco. Once was more than enough. So I opted for the lower-level tables, the ones where no one cared about etiquette or how many ancestral spirits you could summon.

"Do you like it, Vina?" I asked, smiling as I looked down at the small girl nestled comfortably on my lap.

"Um! I love it, Papa! I want more chicken!"

I chuckled warmly. "Here we go then."

I carefully speared another small piece of chicken—nothing too big, just enough for her tiny throat to manage—and held it up to her. Levina opened her mouth happily, took the bite, and began chewing with a slow, contented smile. Her cheeks puffed out like a squirrel's, and honestly, she looked too cute for words.

Watching her, I felt something tug at me from inside—regret. A heavy one. I'd never really had many moments like this with Orlin and Tihana. I'd always been too caught up in Game, pride, resentment, sadness... whatever excuse I had at the time. Truth was, I'd been a pretty lousy father to them.

"Why are we eating here, exactly?" Alicia asked, with mild discomfort. She kept darting glances at the people around us.

To our left sat Amael, Sylvia, and Lisandra. They looked equally perplexed by our choice of seating arrangement.

Still feeding Levina, I turned my gaze toward Amael and spoke plainly.

"Tell me—what are three Ancestors doing here in Sancta Vedelia?"

I didn't sugarcoat it. There was no way in hell they'd shown up just to help out the Heroes defeat the Vampire Witches. I wasn't that naive.

Amael didn't hesitate. "We're here to support the Resistance in the war against the Witch of Valachia."

I grimaced.

"Do you think I'm stupid enough to believe that?"

He shrugged casually. "Not at all. I was lying—I just didn't feel like saying the truth right away."

He even smiled when he said it, like it was no big deal. The honesty caught me off guard more than the lie. Or should I say pissed me off more.

Was this guy seriously a Falkrona?

Every Falkrona I remembered had been either a recluse or a straight-up weirdo—well, except for Elona. This one, though? Too... normal. Too talkative. Suspiciously social.

I shifted my attention to Sylvia and Lisandra, watching their reactions. There—just for a split second—a flicker of something passed across their faces when I'd asked about their reason for being here. They looked toward Amael, like even they weren't sure what they were doing.

"It must be tough," I said, smiling at them while placing a small carrot into Levina's mouth.

"What?" Lisandra asked, her expression turning wary.

"Being here without knowing why. Just tagging along behind some weirdo. What does that make you, then?"

I barely finished the sentence before a ball of meat came flying toward my head. Reflexively, I caught it with my mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

"Thanks," I said.

Lisandra's face turned bright red. She looked like she was about to threw her plate's content, but Sylvia calmly placed a hand on her arm, holding her back.

Sylvia then gave me a stare that was hard to read.

I just snorted.

So... no answers from them—not this way.

I couldn't help but wonder—what if Amael came here for me at Nihil's order?

The thought sounded absurd, even to me, but still… I couldn't ignore the possibility.

I wasn't the same naive fool from two years ago. I had grown—hardened, maybe. I didn't trust Nihil, not one bit. In fact, I doubted everything and everyone now, especially in this time.

Still, a part of me considered it. If it really was Nihil, then maybe—just maybe—I could talk to him. Ask him how to return to the present. Maybe even use Viessa's bracelet.

But of course… nothing was ever that simple.

What were the chances I'd run into him in this mess? And even if I did find him, who's to say he even knew me yet? For all I knew, Nihil hadn't even met me yet in his timeline. After all, this was the past.

So then… who could I even ask for help?

Cleenah?

She was alive during this time, wasn't she? Probably still sealed in that cursed temple.

My hand froze mid-air, fork halfway to Levina's mouth.

Right… we're in the past. That means Cleenah and Nevia are still alive.

But they didn't know anything about me—not yet. Meeting them now would be like tossing a rock into the calm waters of fate. It would twist everything. Who knew what kind of ripple effect it could have?

"Papa?" Levina's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. She tilted her head, eyes full of curiosity.

I smiled softly and gently brought the fork to her lips again. She munched happily, completely unaware of the storm spinning in my head.

Okay… so not Cleenah. Not Nevia. Who else?

Nemes?

I scoffed internally. I trusted Nemes about as far as I could throw her—which wasn't very far, and certainly not across timelines. So that was a firm no.

But then… a flicker of something crossed my mind.

Freyja.

My eyes widened a little.

The true one sealed inside the Tree.

She knew about Viessa's situation. Viessa who had lived through the Blood Moon War and somehow survived into my era. If anyone knew a way out of this time, it could be her.

But… how the hell was I supposed to get to her?

You didn't just walk into the Tree's. You needed access—specifically, from either the Guardian or the Prophetess. No exceptions.

"Who's the Prophetess again?" I asked aloud, keeping my tone casual as I turned to Amael and the others.

Amael gave me a sharp look and a smile that felt just a bit too knowing. "Why are you looking for the Prophetess, Mael?"

I groaned in annoyance.

I shouldn't have asked this guy.

"Nothing major," I shrugged. "Just thought I might have a friendly chat with her."

Alicia tugged gently on my sleeve and leaned in, whispering, "Why are you really looking for the Prophetess?"

"To get the hell out of this timeline," I muttered. "Don't you know who she is? You've read all those dusty books about the Blood Moon War, haven't you?"

Alicia nodded. "It was supposed to be Viessa Teraquin… but she doesn't have the Prophetess' mark. I overheard some of the others mentioning that the Prophetess is currently in the Olphean Kingdom."

I blinked. "Olphean? She's Olphean?"

"No, I think," Alicia clarified quickly. "But apparently, the Olphean Kingdom is the safest stronghold of the Resistance. That's where she's staying."

Before I could respond, Amael interrupted us. "By the way, since when are you two a couple?"

The shift in topic was so sudden it caught us both off guard.

"W-We're not—" Alicia started, then suddenly remembered what she'd told the others just moments ago and shut her mouth. She looked flustered.

I sighed and turned toward Amael with narrowed eyes. "Why do you care so much about our love life? Struggling with the princesses, are we?"

His expression didn't waver.

"Can't say I blame you," I continued. "One's an antisocial introvert, and the other's got a temper that could melt steel."

"S–Stop dragging us into this when we didn't even say anything!" Lisandra slammed her hands on the table and shot me a glare, cheeks flushed in anger—or maybe embarrassment. Her voice cracked slightly. She looked like she was about to cry.

I blinked, a bit taken aback.

...Okay, maybe I went too far.

But what was that reaction?

"Why are you crying…? Aren't you old enough to—"

Before I could finish my sentence, Lisandra pushed her chair back with a sharp screech and stormed off, leaving her half-finished plate behind. Sylvia glanced at me, then quickly stood and followed her without a word.

I blinked, staring after them.

"You were mean, Papa," Levina said quietly, glancing up from my lap with a pout.

"V–Vina…" I stuttered, caught completely off guard. Her disapproving gaze hit harder than any sword could. I had no comeback.

Even Alicia gave me a look of disapproval—subtle, but pointed.

Across the table, Amaya sat eating like none of this mattered. She was still shoveling food into her mouth with zero care in the world.

***

Lisandra's boots struck hard against the floor as she stormed out of the dining hall, fury boiling under her skin. Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides, and her breath came fast and sharp. Emotions churned in her chest—anger, embarrassment, confusion—and she couldn't tell which was winning.

'What's wrong with that guy?!'

Since the moment Edward showed up, he hadn't stopped needling her, provoking her, pushing buttons she didn't even know she had.

'And what's wrong with me?!'

She hated the way she reacted around him. She'd always had a short temper, sure—but with him, it was different. Too intense. Too emotional. Like he peeled away all her armor with a single glance.

"Lisandra."

She stopped in her tracks at the sound of Sylvia's voice.

Turning, her hetechromia eyes, "I–I'm sorry," she muttered, looking down. "I just… don't know what came over me."

"I know," Sylvia said softly, walking up beside her.

"You know?" Lisandra glanced at her, confused.

Sylvia nodded. There was something flickering behind her calm expression—an emotion she didn't quite know how to show. "It sounds strange, but… I feel nostalgic around him. And happy."

"H–Happy?" Lisandra blinked, stunned.

That was the last word she expected from Sylvia's mouth. The way Sylvia usually looked at Edward, you'd think she wanted to throw him off a cliff.

But now… her cheeks flushed faintly pink as she turned her head away.

Lisandra stood frozen. She had never seen Sylvia like this. Vulnerable. Soft.

"It's… hard to contain. And I don't know why either," Sylvia mumbled, clearly flustered.

Lisandra sighed and let out a tiny laugh. "So that's why you keep acting like an emotionless statue? You're hiding your feelings?"

Sylvia crossed her arms, her usual composure slipping. "It's better than throwing food and storming out of rooms, like someone else I know."

"T-That's—! It's his fault! I—I just can't keep calm around him!" Lisandra snapped back, biting her lower lip in frustration.

"I know," Sylvia said again.

There was a pause between them, quiet but heavy.

"…Should we tell Amael about this?" Lisandra asked hesitantly.

Sylvia shook her head. "Not yet. Not until we know what's going on."

"Right…" Lisandra replied, her tone a little deflated. Then, after a beat, she looked over with a more uncertain expression. "Hey… do you remember when we were kids? When the Prophetess came all the way from Sancta Vedelia to see us?"

Sylvia's gaze shifted. "Of course I do. Why?"

Lisandra looked almost embarrassed, as if she regretted bringing it up. "…Do you remember what she told us? About our future?"

Sylvia didn't even have to think. Her voice was clear and certain. "She said the Silver-Haired Chosen One will bring us happiness—but until then, we'll suffer for him. In both heart and Souls for years to live."

"…That's Amael, right?" Lisandra asked quietly.

Back then, when Amael had first approached them, neither of them saw it. But after he told them his reasons—how he wanted to end the war, how he'd taken them to spare their kingdoms from bloodshed—it had made sense. He had silver hair. He was a Prince of Falkrona. He gave them peace, safety, and purpose.

Weren't those things… happiness?

Yet even with Amael by their side, it didn't feel complete. Not the way the prophecy hinted. There was something missing.

And now Edward had shown up—and everything felt off.

"Do you think… I mean, what if… Amael… isn't the one?" Lisandra began to ramble. "Amael um, I mean Mael's hair looks silver sometimes under certain lights, but it's not really silver, more like—white, but—"

"Lisandra," Sylvia interrupted her. "Do you think that… or do you wish it?"

Lisandra's lips parted.

Then her face flushed crimson.

"I'm not wishing anything!" She shouted, cheeks puffed with embarrassment. "Don't say stuff like that, you idiot Sylvia!"

"You're the one who brought it up," Sylvia said shrugging.

"Shut up! And don't tell that moron!" Lisandra almost pleaded. The thought of Edward hearing any of this made her stomach twist and her face go pale.

"Why would I talk to him?" Sylvia said with a slight grimace.

"I know you," Lisandra snapped. "You bottle everything up, and then one day it all bursts out. You'd have lost the war without me there to smack you back into your senses!"

Sylvia narrowed her eyes. "Shut up."

"You know I'm right."