I Enrolled as the Villain

Kael strolled down the corridor, his syncwatch reading 11:30.

Back home, that was when lunch would be on the stove. He could almost hear his mother muttering about the afternoon heat while shooing him away from the kitchen table.

The Valery kitchen was tucked away in a quiet bend of the hall, but today it was anything but quiet. Metallic clanks, rushed voices, and the smell of something burning?—spilled into the corridor.

What in the world…

He stepped inside.

"Hey, what is this?" a girl asked, holding up an egg like it was a rare artifact.

"I heard you're supposed to break it, no?"

"Maybe… but—"

"Is this what my servant does every day? Such a sad life," another student muttered from behind the counter, juggling ingredients with all the grace of a street performer.

"I'll use my eyes to cut this," someone declared proudly, slicing an apple with surgical precision.

It looked like a noble banquet in the middle of a disaster drill. Students in pristine uniforms hovered over pans and cutting boards like soldiers on their first day of boot camp. One was staring at their syncwatch, murmuring the recipe under their breath. Another kept trying to scroll past an ad with flour-coated fingers, leaving smudges on the screen.

Cendric was at the counter, gloves on, leaning toward a wall mirror to fix his hair with painstaking care before returning to whatever was sputtering in his pan.

The chaos almost made Kael laugh. Rich kids. Used to getting food served to them, and now they're fighting vegetables.

In the far corner, Liora sat at her wheelchair-height counter, quietly focused. She checked her syncwatch, adjusted the flame, and went back to chopping—small, careful strokes.

Kael crossed over without thinking, taking the knife from her to finish the last pieces. She didn't protest, only shifted to the pot, trusting him to take over.

Something in the room shifted. The other students noticed.

One by one, they drifted closer. A spoon offered here, a tray brought over there. The clumsy rhythm of their cooking began to sync—not perfect, but close enough.

Even the smell changed — less burnt, more like an actual lunch.

Minutes blurred into nearly an hour before the chaos finally settled. Plates, trays, and bowls lined the countertop. Some dishes were clearly scorched, though their creators tried to hide the evidence under napkins and folded cloth.

"Alright, let's get this to the dining hall," someone called.

They loaded the food onto trolleys, the wheels squeaking as they pushed them through the corridor. One by one, the dishes found their place along the long dining table.

But Kael noticed something strange. The center of the table, the spot where he usually sat was almost entirely filled with dishes he and Liora had cooked together. Maybe the others weren't confident in their work… or maybe they simply wanted the safest-looking plates up front.

Kael stood there for a moment, looking at the plates. The flavors might not match his mother's, the seasoning might be uneven, but something about it still felt warm.

It had been a long time since he'd sat down to eat food he'd helped make — longer still since it was made alongside others, messy and imperfect as it was.

For just a second, the long dining table didn't feel so cold.

"Alright, everyone let's eat," kael said, skipping the formality. No point dressing it up. This was the last meal before a big operation.

As they dug in, the first reactions came quick.

"Ugh… who cooked this?"

"It's a bit sour."

"Hmm. Not bad."

Laughter and chatter bubbled up between bites.

"I guess it isn't bad for a first try."

"It's fun, though a bit too… dirty for my taste."

Kael let the voices wash over him. The clatter of cutlery, the smell of food, the way even the burnt dishes disappeared once someone was hungry enough it all felt almost normal.

And maybe that was the dangerous part.

By 14:00, the warmth of the meal was behind us.

Inside the command room, the squad stood ready. The sword unit looked steady, except for one who wouldn't meet kael eyes.

Everyone else wore the kind of focus that meant they were bringing everything they had. Even Cendric's hair was off by an inch and for once, he didn't bother fixing it.

As kael adjusted his white long cape, he checked the silver sword at his side it was standard issue, but the best quality allowed for the match.

But It didn't matter. He will never be supreme swordsman like Arthur or Evelyne even if he had a powerful sword art.

Then kael gaze swept over the squads. At the front of Bastion Squad, Marlen stood out, steady as stone. She met his eyes for a brief moment before he stepped forward, raising his voice so everyone could hear.

"I didn't come here to lose."

That made them focus on kael even harder.

"They think this is a game of heart and mind. Some will deny it…"

A memory flashed — a red-haired man grinning at him.

"…and some will embody it.

But as long as we have each other, I promise we will win. And that's a promise I intend to keep it for you."

Kael turned, his cape snapping behind him like a white flag daring the storm, and led the sword squad forward.

The steel doors hissed, groaned, and split apart, letting in the smell of wet stone and the sound of the stronghold's distant heartbeat.

Selene Dais… all your equations, your probabilities, your endless simulations they'll fail you when the moment comes. Numbers can't measure resolve. Calculations can't account for someone who refuses to fall.

The sound of wheels whispered over the stone floor. Liora followed behind, steady as a tide that refused to turn back. Silas and Jessa kept pace on either side, ready to catch her if she stumbled but I knew she wouldn't.

Because some victories aren't taken by strength or brilliance.

They're taken by those who choose to stand when everyone else would kneel.