I Became the Narrow-Eyed Villain in a Dropped Novel

Til watched Valheit’s back as he walked toward the villa’s front gate, her eyes full of suspicion.

He didn’t look much different from usual.

No, to be precise, she’d never paid him any attention, so she didn’t know how he normally moved about.

‘No, he’s definitely hiding something shady.’

His face had stiffened the moment he received the raven’s letter—that was suspicious as hell.

Valheit, who usually kept his smirking face unchanged, getting tense meant it wasn’t something minor.

A letter he had to hide by lying was a report from Cesare.

How could she not be suspicious?

The Cesare she knew was the type to write unnecessarily detailed reports.

He wasn’t the kind to send a thin single sheet.

Valheit wouldn’t normally make such a simple mistake, but it was a slip from focusing on the Eight Council for only a short time.

‘He couldn’t have calculated even this, right?’

Deliberately lying in a way that’d get caught to test if she’d bite, or twisting it further aiming for her to hesitate after spotting the lie.

The more she thought, the more her head hurt.

Til shook her head vigorously.

Lately, sticking around that narrow-eyed bastard had filled her with needless thoughts.

In times like this, it was best to follow her instincts. Jumping from the second floor, Til cleared the wall in an instant and landed lightly on the street.

Valheit was far ahead, swinging his staff jauntily as he walked leisurely.

Erasing her presence, Til followed at a distance.

Matching his frustratingly slow pace annoyed her, but she endured.

Tracking in the city was harder than in the wilderness.

Unlike the wild, where she could hide and run freely, the city required blending with the flow.

One slip, and he’d vanish into the crowd—like Valheit now, melting into the evening throng of Schwaben.

“Damn.”

By the time Til snapped back, Valheit had already blended into Schwaben’s bustling evening crowd.

He’d toyed with her on purpose.

She could almost hear his mocking voice: how dare you tail me?

Should she pursue further? No, he’d already erased his tracks thoroughly. It was pointless.

“So secretive….”

In the past, she couldn’t fathom his thoughts, but after sticking around, she’d glimpsed into his mind a bit.

Valheit’s provocations were a defense mechanism.

That irritating face made you forget the original goal and focus on him.

Meaning today’s appointment was too important to be discovered.

No clue what it was, though.

“Haa… Maybe check old man Strauss’s shop. He might be there.”

Muttering to herself to calm down, Til turned in the opposite direction from where Valheit disappeared.

‘Check Strauss’s shop, and if nothing, grab a drink since I’m out.’

The odds of him being at the appraisal shop were low given the secrecy, but she didn’t want to just go back.

Returning like this would feel like losing to that narrow-eyed bastard.

‘The more I think, the more pissed I get. Why waste my evening on that guy?’

Grumbling inwardly, Til walked on, and passersby subtly cleared her path.

‘Looks like she’s ready to kill someone.’

That was the common impression of those who saw Til that day.

* * *

Schwaben’s streets, now somewhat familiar, were bustling as ever.

Compared to modern metropolises, it was far better, but having adapted to this era, the crowded feeling lingered.

How long since I’d walked aimlessly? Thinking about the past few weeks gave me a headache.

Entering the tavern, the noise hit harder than last time.

A group in a circle seemed to be having an office party, downing drinks merrily.

‘So how do I find the Commander?’

The Commander had only specified the place and evening—roughly.

No exact time, no seat if she came.

Perplexed, I scanned around, my eyes drawn to a window seat.

Unlike the high-end tavern’s rowdy vibe, it was an eerily quiet spot, separated from the chaos.

A familiar sensation. Like my room when I first met the Commander.

At the two-person table, an orange-haired woman wrapped in a black shawl sat.

If that seat hadn’t been empty moments ago, I’d have thought, “Hurry up, I’ve been waiting.”

After a few deep breaths, I sat across from her.

The tavern’s deafening noise vanished abruptly, replaced by oppressive silence.

“Long time no see, Valheit.”

“Long time no see, Anat.”

I managed to say the words I’d rehearsed, my voice trembling, and the Commander smiled softly.

It wasn’t Valheit’s twisted smile.

Pure… no, more like wistful.

“You remembered to call me by name.”

“It wasn’t a hard request.”

Rather than relief it wasn’t wrong, my curiosity about who she was grew.

According to Stunner, she was called various names by region—Orange-Haired Saintess, Skewer Saintess, Woman of Silence—and known only for helping the needy, with inconsistent testimonies.

In one place, she punished bandits; in the next village, healed the sick; far away, aided the poor—her actions were jumbled.

Stunner spoke of her path with a hint of respect.

‘She seems to have gone wherever help was needed. Not easy in an era like this, where everyone’s at each other’s throats. So she’s definitely a good person….’

Pausing, Stunner lowered his voice.

‘But I saw those skewers myself—they were gruesome, unfit for a saint’s tales. The kind a madman would use.’

Combining Stunner’s words and book, she was a person with benevolent intentions and terrifying methods.

The woman before me didn’t give off any dangerous vibe, but a subtle intimidation was palpable.

“This was supposed to be a longer break, but I heard you were doing interesting things.”

“I’ve been busy. What exactly do you mean?”

“There’s a lot to say, right? Today, let’s stick to the Empire. That’s why I called you out.”

“…I heard you helped Blaiher Kruber.”

After hesitating, I brought up Blaiher.

Blaiher said it was a coincidence, but it clearly wasn’t.

“Yes, I stepped in after a while, but couldn’t let flies buzz around and complicate things, right?”

“Those flies being the Three Blades?”

“You know and still ask—same as ever.”

Even Victor is attached, and she calls them flies.

In fiction, expecting the Commander to be strong since she’s the boss makes sense, but hearing it felt different.

“My turn to ask. Was this a coup for the Eight Council?”

Well, yes and no… how to answer?

After much thought, I gave a vague response.

“It’s for the Eight Council and for myself.”

“For yourself—surviving, like you said last time.”

“Yes.”

Nothing more to add.

I started to lower my death probability, but securing the Emperor as an ally wasn’t bad for the Council either.

Anat poured a drink, her gaze piercing as if seeing through my closed eyes.

“Then no need to worry.”

“You called to confirm that?”

The novel’s biggest mystery showing just a glimpse and leaving wouldn’t add up.

“Of course not. As a reward for wrapping this up well, I’ll tell you something you want to know but don’t.”

“Something like that?”

“You’re curious who killed the Emperor, right?”

I glanced around. The tavern patrons were fixated on their drinks, as if we were invisible.

“This doesn’t seem the place for that.”

“It’s fine. No one’s interested in listening.”

“Then tell me straight—who? Or is it a riddle?”

“The Three Blades did it.”

Anat answered plainly.

“Uh, so Geller killed the Emperor?”

“Yes. I felt that polite young man’s pursuers at the embassy too.”

“You didn’t think to stop it?”

“You thought the same: ‘He’s better off dead.’ Or more accurately, ‘He must die’?”

I had nothing to say, since I’d thought exactly that. I’d even resolved to do it myself.

“Why tell me?”

“It’s something you can’t know now, but must.”

“…Can you explain simpler?”

“You’ll see why at the Council of Dukes.”

What would Geller do at the Council?

That made sense so far.

What I still didn’t get was Anat’s intent in revealing herself to tell me.

“The Eight Council was formed for each to prepare for destruction in their way. Think of this as our methods aligning.”

As if reading my mind, Anat kindly explained.

The Commander I liked would’ve jumped at more questions—where she was, what she did, why contact only me, if she’d return.

But before I could ask, Anat stood first.

“A familiar face is coming. It’s not time to meet yet, so I’ll go. And…”

Anat leaned in slightly and whispered.

“Congratulations, Count. But next time, besides Anat, I’d like it if you called me by the first name you used.”

“Huh?”

“Until next time—who knows when.”

“Wait, what do you mean…”

The oppressive silence from Anat vanished, replaced by rowdy drunkards’ songs assaulting my eardrums.

I hurriedly looked at Anat’s seat, but it was empty, with only traces of someone there.

‘Is Anat not her real name?’

Pondering the Commander’s last words, someone tapped my back.

“Appointment, huh? Drinking alone pathetically?”

The table still had the glass and bottle Anat poured.

Debating excuses, I decided on the truth.

“My guest left early.”

“Is that so…”

Til, her eyes disbelieving, picked up the bottle, and they sparkled at the evening light.

“This is the liquor the Commander liked?”

“Is it?”

“You should know that much.”

With a chance to probe the Commander, I refilled her glass and casually asked.

“Do you know the Commander has a real name?”

“Yeah. She never told me what, then vanished. You know?”

“I don’t either.”

When she eyed me like why bring it up, I added another pour.

“Haa, miss seeing the Commander’s face.”

“Wouldn’t she be better off alive somewhere, handling things?”

“Words won’t… forget it. That’s you.”

Since the Commander came up, might as well gather info from Til.

“By the way, the Commander’s real name—do you know it?”

“I do. She never told me what, then disappeared. You know?”

“No.”

“Then why mention it?”

The raven from her—rumors say Hendrick collapsed clutching his neck hearing about the villa. Not wrong.

Blaiher gifting the villa, I’d been resting little. But not exactly relaxed.

While lounging, chapters to destruction—or my death—ticked down.

Chapter 41…

Send raven to Cesare last, reply due soon. Cue loud caw.

“A raven.”

Turning, it stretched its leg with a tube, like taking it.

“No mail for me. Yours?”

“Seems.”

Expecting Cesare’s rough script, opened.

[Meet at Schwaben tavern tonight - Your Commander]

Stared at elegant writing. Not Cesare’s. Commander really sent?

Using raven means Eight Council.

“What?”

“Cesare’s report. Noah’s group.”

“Are they ok?”

“Seems.”

Brushed off, pocketed.

Why crowded tavern for meet? Least not ambushed alone.

‘Anat.’

The name Commander left last vanished. Asked call by name.

Guessed contact eventually, nearby.

Thought during chaos, but now, after over?

‘Why now?’

Mulled, no answer.

Secretly barely in original—how know mind?

Concluded face to find.

“Out tonight, appointment.”

“What?”

Pressed unexpectedly.

Thought “ok.”

“Why ask?”

“Bored hell?”

“Normal dinner.”

“Hmm.”

Narrowed eyes briefly, lost interest, munched.

Worried tag along boredom, thankfully not. Knew contact Commander, probably kill.

Originally, Commander never appeared, mentioned flipped Til.

Found meeting, chaos knows.

Not Til. Most Council trusted Commander fiercely.

If dead, fine, but living hiding, actions secret from Council—beyond comprehension.

‘Ask tonight.’

Nodding self, left terrace.

Before leaving, I felt Til glare… imagination, right?