Transmigrated as the Villain Between the Heroine and the Villainess

The black Ashveil carriage rolled to a stop before the grand gates of the academy. It had been a month. A month of healing, training, and planning. A month of silence.

Azrael stepped out onto the familiar stone path. The air was different now. The nervous energy of the first day of the term was gone, replaced by the steady, settled hum of academy life.

Students walked in small groups, laughing and talking, their faces relaxed.

He, however, was a ghost returning to a world that had moved on without him.

He walked towards the second-year combat division hall. As he moved, he felt the atmosphere shift around him.

The quiet conversations would die down as students passed him. Heads would turn. He heard whispers, but they were different now.

The fear was still there, a lingering shadow of his old reputation. But it was mixed with something else. Awe. Curiosity. Respect.

He reached the lecture hall late. The class was already in session. He pushed the heavy oak door open.

Creak.

The sound cut through the room, and every single head snapped towards the entrance. Professor Vivienne Cindral stopped mid-sentence, her sharp golden eyes fixing on him.

He stood in the doorway, expecting a sharp reprimand. He had just interrupted the strictest professor in the academy.

'She will definitely scold me,' he thought, preparing himself for the verbal lashing.

But she didn't. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips.

"Welcome back, Azrael," she said, her voice clear and carrying across the silent room. "I was waiting for you to join us."

The entire class stared, their mouths slightly agape.

"And for these long holidays," she continued, her gaze sweeping over him, "I trust you have utilized the time well, along with your recovery."

She walked to the edge of the dais. "After your heroic display in the ranking test, you have gained many respects. Not only did you save a classmate from certain death, but you showed a side of yourself that even great warriors would admire."

Her words were a public declaration. A stamp of approval from a woman whose opinion carried immense weight.

"To be honest," she added, a hint of annoyance in her tone, "your rumors are spreading all across the academy. And some of them... well, they are disgusting. The talk of your unrequited love and tragic sacrifices is frankly nauseating."

Azrael just stood there, his face a blank mask. He walked down the aisle and took his usual seat in the back corner. He could feel the eyes on him.

The fear was still there in some, but in others, he saw a new light. He was no longer just the Ashveil monster. He was something more complex.

He glanced towards the middle of the room. His eyes met Seraphina's. She looked away quickly, but not before he saw the storm of emotions in her amber eyes.

Confusion. Guilt. And a deep, undeniable respect. She wanted to thank him. He could see it.

He leaned back in his chair, a strange feeling settling in his chest. This was… good. He had changed his reputation. He was no longer the villain. He was on the path to becoming a respected, if feared, figure.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, a new screen popped into his vision. It wasn't the usual quest interface. The border was a flashing, urgent red.

[!! CAUTIOUS MESSAGE !!]

[Host is altering the main storyline at a critical level. The deviation from the original fate is becoming too extreme.]

[This will result in a penalty: DEATH.]

The word hung in his vision, cold and absolute.

[Host Suggestion: Wear the mask of a villain. Act like a villain.]

[Reward: +10 undistributed stat points.]

He stared at the screen, a slow, cold smile spreading across his face. 'Act like a villain.' He almost laughed out loud.

He had forgotten the villain part. But the acting? It was his favorite thing.

In his old life, he couldn't pursue it. He had too many responsibilities, too much weight on his shoulders.

But he had been a great actor. He had a natural talent for it, a way of becoming someone else so completely that even he sometimes forgot where the character ended and he began.

He could lie with a straight face, a skill honed by years of hiding his family's poverty from his friends.

Not a single person could ever tell if he was being deceitful. Well, except for his mom. She always knew.

He had played roles in school plays, always the main character, the hero. He was good. Too good.

He remembered being replaced in his final year by the principal's untalented son. Nepotism. It had been his first real taste of how unfair the world could be.

He looked at the reward again. '+10 stat points.'

'Wow,' he thought. 'A cherry on top.'

This wasn't a punishment. This was an invitation. The system wasn't telling him to be a villain. It was asking him to play one. And it was going to pay him for the performance.

'Now,' he thought, his smile turning sharp and dangerous. 'Let's show them.'

The class ended. Usually, Azrael was the first one out the door, eager to escape the stares and whispers.

Today, he stayed. He sat at his desk, calmly packing his things, taking his time. He knew what was coming.

The classroom slowly emptied until only three people remained. Him. Kaelen. And Seraphina.

They were standing near the front, talking in low voices. Then, they both turned. Their eyes met his. They started walking towards him, their steps slow, hesitant.

Kaelen stopped in front of his desk. He looked different. The arrogant pride was gone, replaced by a heavy, somber look. He took a deep breath.

"Thank you," he said, the words sounding like they were hard for him to say. "Thank you so much for saving her.

You won't know how much I am indebted to you for your act. You can ask for anything you want. Like, anything within my reach."

Azrael didn't say anything. He just looked at him with cold, uninterested eyes. He waited.

It was Seraphina who spoke next. She stepped forward, her hands clenched at her sides.

"Azrael," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "I... I wanted to say this for a month now. I am sorry."

Her eyes were filled with a deep, painful regret. "I am sorry for not understanding you. I hurt your feelings. I was stupid. I should have handled the situation with more maturity, but I..."

Her voice broke, and she looked down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze. "I hated you. I cursed you. And you… you saved me by putting your life on the line. Why? Why did you do that?"

The question hung in the air, raw and desperate.

Just as he was about to open his mouth, to deliver his first line, the classroom door opened again.

Elvara walked in, her face full of a shy hope. And right behind her, gliding into the room like a silent predator, was Isolde.

Azrael's cold expression didn't change, but inwardly, he smiled.

'So, the whole audience is here,' he thought. 'I guess I will get a ton of villain points for this performance.'