The Novel’s Antagonist: I walk the path of a Villain

"Sobs…"

She remembered it vividly.

It was on his twelfth birthday.

That day had changed everything. It was the day his dormant blessing had stirred to life. Until then, his blessing had been inactive since its awakening—a source of disappointment even to the emperor, who had begun to lose interest in Lorelle.

But that day, everything shifted. That day, the emperor caught a glimpse of what the young boy could become if he learned to harness the power of his blessing.

It was also the day she lost her closest friend, the one she had called a sister.

"Sobs…"

She wiped her tears with the back of her hand as she stumbled through the dimly lit pathway. The memories of that fateful day surged back with painful clarity.

Two years had passed since the pre-academy, two long years without seeing him. When she heard she would finally get to meet him at the banquet, she did everything in her power to attend.

But when she arrived, her heart sank. What was supposed to be a celebration of both brothers had been overshadowed. All the attention was on Allen, whose bloodline had begun to manifest incredible potential.

She didn't even see Lorelle in the grand hall. Instead, whispers reached her ears—rumors of his engagement being broken and ominous signs that the fourth prince might have descended into madness.

Fear clawed at her. Desperation drove her. She ignored Velia's pleas to leave the palace and instead roamed the halls, determined to find him.

"I… I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling as memories of her friend's final moments surfaced. Her dear friend had suffered unbearable pain, dying at the hands of the one she loved—the one she had called a friend. The one she had called… El.

It was in the garden where she found the bloodbath.

Bodies of nobles and their guards littered the ground, decapitated and bloodied. At the center of the carnage stood a lone figure: a young man with pale blue hair and dark amethyst eyes.

He looked at her, and in that moment, she knew.

This was not Lorelle.

Not the Lorelle she had known.

Yet, something stirred within her as she took in his broken form. She hated the look on his face—not the rage, but the pain beneath it.

His cheeks were streaked with tears that wouldn't stop flowing. In his hand was a bloodied wooden sword, the weapon that had turned this place into a slaughterhouse.

She took a hesitant step forward, calling his name. "El…"

But all he gave her were those tormented eyes filled with fury.

"Hateful. Disgusting species."

Before she could process the words, the world spun. Pain erupted in her abdomen as she realized too late—Lorelle was no longer standing among the pile of corpses.

He was before her, the bloodied wooden sword now embedded in her stomach.

"Let her go!"

That was the scream of her dear friend. Lena managed to blindside Lorelle, but it was futile. Before she could land an attack, her right arm was severed clean off. The searing pain gave her a fleeting chance to escape as he pulled the sword embedded in her body at the last second.

"LENA, RUN! PLEASE!"

She could still recall the pleading eyes of her sister, desperate and filled with determination as she did everything she could to distract him.

But all Lena heard as she fled, tears streaming down her face, was pain.

Velia's scream—anguished, tormented—followed her even now.

He hadn't just killed her. Lorelle had made her suffer until the bitter end.

"OF COURSE! RUN! JUST KEEP RUNNING!" His voice thundered behind her, the words dripping with scorn. "WHAT DID I EXPECT FROM A TREACHEROUS SPACIE? TRULY REPULSIVE!"

His laughter followed her, bitter and cruel, yet laced with an unbearable sorrow. It was a sound that chilled her to her core. For a moment, she wondered what depths of anguish someone would have to endure to laugh like that, to harbor such venom. It was as if he despised women more than anything else in the world.

Lena escaped that night. Barely. But survival came at a cost. She and her family were silenced by the Emperor himself, forbidden from ever speaking of what had transpired.

Even now, years later, the memory haunted her. When she saw him at the entrance of the Academy that day and their eyes met, there was no trace of the tormented man she had seen back then. The Lorelle before her was cold, detached, and apathetic. It was as if he couldn't even remember what had happened.

That only deepened her suspicions.

She couldn't forgive him, no matter how much she tried. But neither could she hate him entirely. That contradiction tore her apart. She still loved him—the man who had once smiled warmly, offering her friendship seven years ago.

And she hated herself for it.

In that fleeting moment when Velia roared for her to run, Lena had seen it again. Those eyes. The very same eyes Lorelle had that night—eyes consumed by madness.

So she ran, despite the guilt that weighed down her every step. She hated herself for running. Even now, she felt it—just like she had five years ago. The pain. That unbearable, boundless pain radiating from him.

"Wh… What happened here?"

After stumbling and falling, she finally came upon a sight that froze her blood.

Her gaze fell on purple threads tangled around a small object. Trembling, she picked it up, holding it closer for inspection.

Her breath hitched.

"Shelly?!"

It was Shelly's head.

Lena staggered back, her legs threatening to give out. And then her eyes fell on him.

Leon. His body lay discarded like a broken doll.

And standing over him was a vampire, its blood-red eyes now fixated on her.

"Wonderful," it hissed, a predatory grin spreading across its face. "More food."

...

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!