I Enrolled as the Villain

As everyone gathered in the room, I rose from my seat, letting the silence settle until even the shuffling stopped.

"This operation," I began, my voice cutting through the stillness, "is called Operation Emberlight."

Dozens of eyes locked on me.

"The Stronghold competition will end soon. Three factions remain. Two have already made their move against us meaning we need to end this quickly. Valkcross?" I let the name hang in the air. "They already don't favor us."

The statement lingered, heavy in the room.

"Our faction will split into two squads. One will hold the stronghold—this team will be Bastion. The other, Sword, will move on Blue Star."

At my signal, the map on the central hologram flared to life, the Blue Star stronghold pulsing in sharp cobalt light.

"Bastion Squad will have thirteen students. Marlen will take command." A list of names appeared in the air, the text flickering as each name was logged.

"Sword Squad will be six students myself included." Another list appeared, my name followed by Cendric, Silas, Jessa… and one name that made the room shift uncomfortably.

Liora Valeris.

"Why is Liora there?" someone finally asked.

"I don't mean to mock her," another voice followed, "but isn't she…" The student's eyes flicked toward her wheelchair.

Even Liora herself stared between me and the glowing list, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open.

I was sure many of them were thinking the same thing — why bring Liora into such a dangerous operation?

"Because," I said, before anyone else could speak, "this mission isn't just about raw strength. It's about precision, coordination, and trust. Liora has all three."

A few students exchanged glances.

"She's the only one here with the path of stillness," I went on. "She notices what others miss. If Blue Star tries any hidden plays, I want someone who can see them before they unfold."

That was the truth at least, the part I was willing to share.

The real reason was simpler: I'd seen what she was willing to do for Valery.

And if the worst came to pass, I'd rather be there to see her through it than leave her behind to fade quietly in a chair.

Because when I looked at her, I saw myself back in middle school, unseen, quiet, tucked away in the corner.

Even if I had to carry her through the mud myself, I would.

Her mother had worked hard for her. I wanted her to see Liora stand proud in front of everyone.

It sounded stupid, even in my own head — not the kind of thought a leader should admit to. But it was the truth.

I met each pair of eyes in the room, letting the silence stretch just long enough to hold their attention.

"Operation begins at 1400 hours. Sword be ready to move fast. Bastion you are the wall between us and defeat. Hold this stronghold banner, and you hold our victory."

The air seemed to tighten.

"I'm not asking you to be fearless," I said, my voice steady. "I'm asking you to be unbreakable. Do I have your trust?"

"Yes!" the room roared back in unison.

I almost turned to move, but Marlen's voice cut through the room.

"The Eye sees what it sees," she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

I looked at her, then at the others. My reply came softer, but carried through the room.

"Then let's be more than we see. Let's become something new."

I left the command room, my footsteps echoing down the quiet hall until I reached my quarters.

The door slid shut behind me, and I let myself fall onto the bed, the tension bleeding from my body. My gaze drifted to the wall, where my white cape hung — gold trim catching the dim light, every line perfectly in place.

But then my eyes shifted, drawn to the small ball tucked away in the corner. Elira ball. I hadn't touched it in… longer than I cared to admit.

But then my eyes shifted, drawn to the small ball tucked away in the corner — Elira's ball. I hadn't touched it in… longer than I cared to admit.

I pushed myself up, crossed the room, and nudged it with my foot. The ball rolled lazily. One nudge became another, then another, until I was pacing the room, kicking it back and forth in an unhurried rhythm that stripped the noise out of my head.

The bed became a defender.

The desk, a goalpost.

The empty floor, a stadium.

In football, you learned quick — the ball never stayed with you forever. You had to move it, pass it, trust someone else to carry it forward.

I stopped the ball under my sole, staring down at the faint smudge of dirt on the leather.

It made me think of Liora — quiet, overlooked, but watching the whole field in a way most never could. The kind of player you only noticed after the win was already earned.

By the time the ball drifted into the corner again, my shirt clung to my back with sweat.

Not the time, I told myself, forcing my breathing to settle. I glanced toward the mirror — only for a soft knock to break the moment.

It was just one knock, light and quick, then silence.

An accident?

Another knock followed, gentler this time, almost hesitant.

"…Come in," I called, my voice carrying across the room as the door unlocked with a soft click.

It opened slowly, revealing Liora. Her hands trembled against the frame, posture small, almost swallowed by her own hesitation.

Her words tumbled over each other, nervous and quick. "I just… I don't think I should be in the operation. I should be in Bastion, at the base. I'll only slow everyone down, and this mission—this mission's too important for—"

"Liora."

She froze.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "Do you know what I see when I look at you?"

She didn't answer.

"I see someone who cooks for two dozen students before dawn. Someone who keeps showing up, even when no one notices. Someone whose mother works nights, and still raised a daughter who doesn't flinch from work."

Her fingers curled on the wheel of her chair.

"And your Ketsugan…" I let the words hang for a second. "They call it common. I call it carved — every line a reminder of the people who keep moving forward without applause. That's not something lesser. That's something unshakable."

She swallowed, still not meeting my eyes.

"You're here because I want you here," I said simply. "Not as a symbol. Not as pity. Because when I think of the kind of people I want beside me out there… you make the list."

"I see," Liora said softly, almost to herself, before her wheelchair turned with a faint squeak and rolled toward the door.

She made her way down the hall to her own quarters — a small, humble room with a plain bed, a single table, and the faint scent of laundry soap.

The door clicked shut behind her.

She caught her reflection in the mirror.

Her hands rested on the chair's wheels, unmoving.

"…Can I do it?" she whispered. Her breath fogged the glass. "What can I even do?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered.