Transmigrated as the Villain Between the Heroine and the Villainess

Selvara stared at her reflection in the mirror.

The village had provided traditional festival clothes for them, simple but elegant garments of deep blue and silver.

The dress felt strange against her skin, softer than the harsh leather and steel of her usual combat gear.

A small, hesitant smile touched her lips. It was a foreign expression, one she rarely used.

"You are looking too beautiful in this dress."

She spun around. Orion was standing in the doorway of her small, allotted room, leaning against the frame with a lazy grin on his face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she snapped, the smile vanishing instantly. "Get out. Oh, and that flattery won't do anything for me."

"Wait, I never said it would," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "And why would I? I know I never stood a chance against you. Not in a fight, and definitely not against your beauty."

She turned her back to him, facing the mirror again. "Enough."

"I didn't lie a single bit," he continued, his voice softer now. "And the smile you gave, looking at yourself just now... it was too cute. I think you should wear that smile more often, rather than your usual coldness."

He could see a faint, crackling energy gathering around her hands. She was ready to beat him up.

"Fine, I'm leaving," he said quickly, backing away from the door. "And by the way... does Azrael stand a chance? I'm just curious."

She froze. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," he said, already halfway down the hall. "Just some stupid thoughts I was having. I've been having dreams of you two talking frequently these days."

She turned, ready to blast him with a shard of ice, but he was already gone, his cheerful laughter echoing down the corridor.

She stood there, her face flushed, a blush she couldn't control creeping up her neck. She went back to the mirror.

'Does Azrael stand a chance, huh?'

'What am I thinking?' she scolded herself, shaking her head. 'I'm in no place for these things. I need to focus on the mission.'

She took a small, folded piece of parchment from her pouch. She had read it a dozen times already.

Selvara,

On your previous report, Lord Zagan has taken an interest. He will look for the boy himself. If he finds the body capable, we will come again with a plan to take him, without force, as we do not want to be revealed yet.

Your task is to take that boy away from the academy, away from any strong presence, and bring him close to Lord Zagan. It should be done within two weeks. In the next month, we will come, if he is valuable.

She crushed the paper in her hand, the parchment crinkling under the force of her grip.

Azrael's voice echoed in her mind, his words about fear, about fighting for something that matters.

She sighed, the sound a mix of frustration and a deep, soul-crushing weariness.

'I just want to live,' she thought, looking at her own reflection. She saw the pale skin, the black hair, the ice-blue eyes.

'Azrael... would you save me?' she whispered to the girl in the mirror. 'Would you accept me? Would you still see me as Selvara, when you know I am a demon? I was born just to hide among humans, born just to have the appearance of a human, but the blood of a demon.'

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"You are looking very pretty in this dress," Elvara said, adjusting the silver sash on Isolde's waist.

Isolde pouted, looking at her own reflection in a small hand mirror. "I know. But looking at you, I am losing my confidence. It's like this dress was made for you. So don't even try to stand by my side in front of the others."

Elvara and Lyra laughed. Seraphina, however, was quiet, lost in her own thoughts, staring at a wall.

Kaelen knocked on the doorframe. "Girls, if you are ready, we can leave. The village elder is coming to me again and again, asking us to join the festival."

"We are ready," Isolde announced.

Kaelen's gaze went to Seraphina. "Seraphina?" No response. "Seraphina," he said again, a little louder.

She snapped out of it, her eyes wide. "What?"

"You have been acting weird lately," he said, his own eyes full of a worried concern. "Is there any problem?"

"I'm fine," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

A new voice joined the conversation. "Yeah. You are the problem for her."

It was Selvara, standing in the doorway, her arms crossed.

"What do you mean?" Kaelen asked.

"Well, she might be upset that she chose the wrong one," Selvara said with a cruel smile.

"I'm not getting it," Kaelen said, his confusion clear.

"Isn't it obvious?" Selvara continued, enjoying herself. "She is thinking about Az-"

Before she could finish the name, Lyra slapped a hand over her mouth. After a moment, she let go.

"What?" Selvara protested. "I was just telling the truth."

Kaelen just looked more confused.

"Senior is too playful," Isolde said smoothly, diffusing the tension. "All the rumors in the academy about her being too cold and distant were fake."

A new voice, Orion's, floated in from the hallway. "Love changes people."

Selvara looked behind her, but there was no one there, only the sound of running footsteps fading away.

She cursed under her breath. "Once we get back, I will showcase that the rumors are true by killing a person this time."

Elvara smiled softly. Isolde laughed.

"Leave my brother alone," Lyra said with a sigh. "He is always like that. He doesn't think twice before saying the truth... I mean, saying anything."

"And that trait of his will get him killed one day," Selvara muttered.

"If all your jokes are over," Isolde said, her voice turning sharp. "Can we go now?"

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The festival was a chaotic swirl of light and sound. In the center of the village, a crowd had gathered, an army of small children, all of them swarming around one person.

"Hero, please tell me what you eat!"

"Hero, hear me first!" a small boy shouted, trying to push his way to the front.

"Hero, can you show us your power?"

"Hero, hear me first!" the same boy yelled again.

"Hero, can you defeat my Uncle Ben?"

Azrael looked at the last kid, completely baffled. 'Who the hell is Uncle Ben?'

"Hero, hear me first!" the persistent boy screamed, finally breaking through the ranks.

Their parents were there too, watching with proud smiles. A mother finally came and dragged the persistent boy away.

"Leave me, mother!" he protested, still trying to crawl his way back. "I want to ask the hero to train me! I want to become stronger!" He then let out a surprisingly evil laugh. "Then I will beat Uncle Ben until afternoon! No, evening! Let's make it night!"

She dragged him away.

Azrael sighed. "Okay, okay," he said, raising his hands. "I will show you the move I used to bring down the ghost."

"Now, first, move aside," he commanded, his voice serious. "You all could be hurt from the force of it."

They scrambled back, leaving a perfect, open path.

He held his new sword, a simple but well-balanced blade that Sabrina's husband had gifted him.

He hadn't wanted to take it for free, but when he had reached for his coin pouch, he remembered he had given it all away.

It had been embarrassing.

He swung the sword in a wide, dramatic arc. The children clapped and cheered.

In that moment of distraction, he ran.

He turned and sprinted down a side alley. "Sabrina, sorry to leave you!" he called over his shoulder. "But I need to go!"

He ran until his lungs burned, finally stopping in a quiet, forgotten corner of the festival grounds.

He sat down at an empty stall, his back to the crowd, his face hidden in the shadows.

A voice spoke from right behind him. "Finally found you, Azrael. No, wait. Hero. No, the Hero with Three Eyes."

It was Selvara.

"What?" he asked.

"That's what people are saying," she said with a laugh. She pointed to a large, painted hoarding. It was another terrible drawing of him, but this time, the artist had tried to draw the bruise on his forehead from the fight. It had ended up looking like a third eye.

"The artist must have wanted to create the bruised mark," she explained, clearly enjoying his pain, "but ended up making it look like an eye. And therefore, you are becoming more popular."

He hissed. "I can't take this humiliation anymore."

She looked at him, and her playful expression faded, replaced by a deep seriousness.

"Azrael," she said, her voice low. "I wanted to talk to you."

She paused, her ice-blue eyes locking with his.

"And this may be our last talk as well."