I Enrolled as the Villain

As my thoughts spun between Aurelia and Selene, something unexpected tugged me out of it.

A smell.

Faint, warm, and familiar.

I turned toward the corner of the corridor the old wing, the one most students didn't even walk through anymore.

"…Someone's cooking breakfast?"

The scent of eggs drifted through the air. I blinked.

Come to think of it, ever since I arrived here, I hadn't had to worry about food much. Meals were always prepared, waiting quietly taken for granted.

But now?

I needed to inform the kitchen students. The situation had changed. They deserved to know what was happening.

I moved quickly, following the smell through the winding hall until it led me to the hidden kitchen tucked away at the back of the base. I expected to hear clatter—shouting, coordination, at least a few Valery chef students barking orders and preparing for twenty mouths.

But instead…

One girl.

Just one.

Sitting in silence, sleeves rolled up, focused on the pan in front of her.

"…Liora?"

She was alone.

Why was Liora the only one cooking? Had no one offered to help her?

I glanced around the kitchen, open crates of food stacked by the shelves, ingredients half-sorted. The dishwashing unit, thankfully automatic, hummed quietly in the background.

But Liora… she was sweating.

Still working through breakfast for twenty students.

The finished plates nearby told me she was only halfway done.

I hesitated.

Should I help?

I wasn't exactly a good chef, but cooking a few eggs couldn't be that hard. I'd done it often enough back then.

I muttered under my breath, "haa… just admit you don't want to cook."

I glanced down at myself still damp from the rain, raincoats clinging to my skin. Every part of me wanted to turn and walk out.

But I didn't.

Because as I looked at her, quiet, tired, and still pushing through without a word a thought came to me.

She was Valery.

She was my blood.

Before I even realized it, my mouth moved on its own.

"Need help, Liora?"

I stepped inside, pulling off my damp raincoat and hanging it near the door.

Liora jolted at the sound of my voice. Her body stiffened in the wheelchair. She turned slowly, eyes wide, startled and then quickly looked away, face lowered toward the floor.

"N-No, you can't. You shouldn't. This is… this is a task fit for me, so—"

I didn't wait for her to finish.

I walked over, grabbed one of the clean aprons hanging by the counter, and slipped it on.

"Then let me help you too."

I picked up a fresh egg, weighing it in my palm.

Maybe I wasn't good at this.

But I could still stand beside her.

I grabbed a bowl and cracked the egg into it, the yolk settling with a soft plop. I stirred slowly, watching the whites mix in.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Liora still frozen in place. Her hands hovered near the pan, but she wasn't moving. Like she didn't know whether to keep going or stop.

I glanced at her, then spoke—quiet, casual.

"So… why are you the only one here?"

My voice echoed slightly in the quiet kitchen. She didn't answer at first. Just stared down at the countertop, lips pressed tight.

I kept stirring, giving her space.

"Did no one offer to help?" I asked, softer this time.

Liora's fingers curled slightly around her spatula.

"It's just that… most of the students here—Valery they're either nobles or come from wealth," she said, voice soft as she returned to the pan. "Maybe that's why."

She flipped one of the eggs gently, then added, "They complain. Say they've never cooked before. That it's beneath them. And I…"

She trailed off, stirring the pan slowly. The faint sizzle of oil filled the silence.

"Maybe I just can't handle them when they act like that," she said at last.

I didn't answer right away.

Because I knew that wasn't the whole truth.

No you're scared.

Scared they'll look down on you if you push back. Scared they'll say you don't belong here.

But I didn't say it aloud.

A beat of silence passed then

I glanced at her

She was focused on the pan in front of her, lips pressed tight, shoulders drawn in like she was trying to take up as little space as possible.

The air felt awkward.

Tense in a way I couldn't quite name.

Now that I thought about it, I didn't really know much about her. Aside from what the reports said her rank, her Ketsugan, the moment she threw herself in front of Vera. That incredible moment of resolve.

But that was just one act.

One frame.

It didn't explain the girl beside me now, sweating over a half-finished breakfast no one had asked her to make.

"So, Liora… you like cooking?" I asked softly.

She glanced at me, then looked down. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"…Yes. I do."

"Why?" I tilted my head, genuinely curious.

Liora hesitated, then answered slowly, hands still working the pan.

"In my family… my mom works night shifts as a street cleaner. The autonomous trucks help, but someone still has to check the sensors, sweep the corners, deal with the waste units. She always came home tired."

Her voice softened.

"So… being the only girl, I ended up doing the cooking sometimes."

Her voice picked up, just a little like the memory warmed her.

So this is what a common Valery life is like?

"In the academy," she continued, quieter now, "my classmates always said the Ketsugan was just… a basic eye. Nothing special."

She paused, flipping the egg too quickly. A piece broke off.

"They didn't mean to be cruel, I think. They probably didn't even know I was there. But it still… it hurt."

She looked down at the cracked yolk.

"Everyone in my family has a Ketsugan. At my old school too. It's normal. And my mom—" she smiled faintly "—she has one too. And she's incredible."

Her voice turned thoughtful, distant.

"So sometimes I wonder… if she's so amazing, then what makes her 'common'? What makes any of us?"

Her voice dipped lower again, like even saying the words out loud made her feel smaller.

She fumbled with the spoon slightly. Didn't meet my gaze. "I mean… the Ketsugan's just… it's everywhere, right? It's nothing special. That's what they always say. Lower-blood Valery, market-lineage, background characters."

She gave a tiny shrug, like she was trying to pretend it didn't bother her.

"They didn't tease me or anything. Not really. It's more like… I wasn't even there. Like the Ketsugan just makes you easy to forget."

I didn't say anything.

No i couldn't.

Because right then I looked at her, sleeves rolled up, wrist tense, eyes focused on the pan like it was the only thing keeping her from cracking. Alone in the kitchen. Making breakfast for two dozen students who'd never even asked who cooked their food.

And some distant, ugly part of me burned.

Common?

Is that what they called her?

Is that what they called all of them?

The ones who held the walls together while everyone else chased Tier dreams and forged artifacts?

The ones who didn't have flashy bloodlines or divine eyes but still showed up?

Still fought?

Still stood?

God, I hated that word.

Not because it meant simple.

But because it was lazy. Because it was the kind of word people used when they didn't want to see.

When they didn't want to admit that strength had a face like hers — quiet, tired, still trying.

The Ketsugan didn't tear dimensions or stop time or glow like the sun.

But it belonged to people who bled and still moved forward.

People like Liora.

And if that was what they called common?

Then maybe the nobles needed their eyes checked.

Then Liora let out a soft sigh, barely audible over the sound of the pan.

"I… I know this probably sounds silly, but…" she hesitated, stirring the food with a slow, almost timid motion, "sometimes I feel like I'm just here to fill a quota. Like… like You know… to show they weren't heartless, a reminder that even someone like me can be here. But not really wanted here…"

Her voice grew quieter, each word harder to push out.

"People don't say it out loud. But I see it when they look at me. I'm the girl in the wheelchair with the weak rank. The Ketsugan who couldn't even get past Stage 1 until last year. The one they put in the corner during drills."

She gave a weak laugh, then shook her head.

"…Sure, Cendric, Silas, Marlen — they're nice," she mumbled. "But they're from the advanced classes. We never really crossed paths during training. I think they only started talking to me because we got grouped into the same squad."

She gave a small shrug, voice barely above a whisper.

"It's not their fault. They probably didn't even know I was there."

She stopped stirring, her spoon resting against the side of the pot.

She didn't look at me. She kept her gaze down, focused on nothing in particular.

"And you—you're Kael Valery. You walk into a room and people stop breathing. You're out there doing impossible things, and I'm just… trying not to get in the way. You're cracking eggs and it still feels like you don't belong here. Not because you're weak. Because you're too far above."

She finally glanced my way, then looked down again, flinching at her own words.

"Sorry. That came out wrong. I didn't mean— I mean, I just…"

Her voice trailed off.

And I didn't respond right away.

Because she wasn't asking for pity.

She was confessing something fragile. Something from her heart.

She wasn't trying to be heard, she was afraid she had been.

I took a breath, sifting through a thousand thoughts at once.

What could I even say to someone like Liora?

One of the many forgotten ones, the quiet backbone beneath the Valery name. Another student left out of the spotlight, carrying the same Eye others looked down on.

But still here. Still cooking for a house that didn't see her.

Still trying.

Something inside me clicked.

Not grand. Not loud. Just certain.

I looked at her not with sympathy, but recognition.

And I said,

"They call it the weakest Eye," I said quietly, not looking at her directly. "But you didn't look weak to me… not when you stood up to Vera."

Liora froze.

Then, slowly, she looked up at me, really looked at me and for the first time, it wasn't with fear.

It wasn't awe, either. It was something else.

Something harder to name.

So I gave her the rest of the truth.

"You're not a burden, Liora.

You're part of this House."

I reached past her to turn down the stove.

She didn't flinch this time. She just nodded barely and returned to the eggs.