Chapter 39: The Villain Nobody Notices

【??? PoV】

I perch on the academy’s north bell tower.

Pigeons roost beside me, cooing about bread crumbs.

They have more fans than I do.

I am the future calamity of this continent.

The name that will haunt lullabies.

Yet no one bothers to learn that name.

Below, students hurry to class.

They gossip about heroes, demons, and cafeteria pudding.

My schemes do not make the conversation list.

It stings.

I flick a pebble off the ledge.

The stone plinks against a statue of some long-dead headmaster.

Not even the statue looks up.

Being ignored by granite is a new low.

I straighten my cloak.

The fabric is midnight black, stitched with silver runes of despair.

They shimmer ominously.

At least the pigeons look impressed.

I clear my throat in case an observer hides nearby.

Silence answers.

Typical.

I decide to rehearse my introduction speech anyway.

“Behold, mortals, I am—”

A flock of geese honk by, drowning out the rest.

Perfect timing.

I sigh.

Three floors down, Blond-Hero-in-Training strolls through the courtyard.

Siegfried.

Sunlight sparkles off his hair as if the universe polishes it.

Students wave and giggle.

Flowers lean toward him.

He does nothing heroic, yet the world applauds.

I raise a hand, preparing a tiny hex.

Just enough to give him hiccups for a week.

Before I cast, a scream echoes from the herb garden.

Lilith’s muffins have exploded again.

Everyone rushes to assist.

My hex fails due to lack of audience.

Without witnesses, curses feel pointless.

I rest my chin on the railing.

Dark-Haired-Eksu appears next, calm as twilight.

He pats soot off Lilith’s shoulders.

She smiles.

Elizabeth scowls at any girl standing too close.

Lucifer’s invisible parental radar pings from miles away.

The courtyard becomes a comedic warzone of possessive glances.

Not one eye turns upward to the lurking threat.

Me.

The pigeons nod in sympathy.

I reward them with crumbs of stale despair.

They coo louder.

At least someone appreciates my presence.

I review my evil résumé to reassure myself.

I mastered Necrotic Calculus at age nine.

I invented a tea that whispers nightmares.

I once convinced an archbishop his socks were haunted.

Great deeds.

All unreported.

Because heroes hog headlines and Demon Kings hog nightmares.

Speaking of the Demon King.

Lucifer strides across the lawn now.

Cloak blazing, horns gleaming, paternal fury leaking like steam.

Students scatter.

Paintings faint.

He glares at Eksu and Siegfried in rapid rotation.

Threat levels spike.

Do they notice the shadowy figure above?

No.

Lucifer’s paranoia has a blind spot: anything not flirting with Lilith.

I could juggle flaming skulls and he would still prioritize boy-repellent strategies.

An idea flickers.

Perhaps I should flirt with Lilith just to get attention.

Risky.

Also suicidal.

I shelve the plan.

Mammon trots behind Lucifer, waving papers labeled “Non-Aggression Clauses.”

Lucifer ignores the documents and begins measuring gazebos for destruction.

Again, no one looks up.

I throw my arms skyward.

“Hello! Tower villain present!”

A passing professor glances up.

He adjusts his spectacles.

“Maintenance?”

He walks away.

The pigeons laugh.

I glower but feed them another despair crumb.

Fine.

If the academy insists on ignoring me, I will escalate.

I remove a small crystal vial from my belt.

Inside swirls liquid moonshadow, potent enough to black out the sun for one dramatic minute.

One minute should suffice for a grand entrance.

I pop the cork.

Black mist coils upward, ready to blot the sky.

Drums of destiny pound in my ears.

At that exact second, the bell tower’s bronze bell clonks.

A janitor hits it with a mop handle to dislodge a squirrel.

My mist recoils from the sudden clang.

The spell fizzles like damp fireworks.

I stare at the janitor.

He apologizes to the squirrel.

He does not glance at me.

I cork the vial, pride dented.

Perhaps a plague of nightmares after bedtime?

Yet these students already have Lilith’s cooking for that.

I pace the narrow walkway.

No one should be this invisible.

I built a lair under the library last semester.

Books levitate when I sneeze.

Still, librarians blame drafts.

I hexed the head nurse’s teapot to brew despair.

She described it as “an acquired taste.”

Nothing sticks.

I slump against the parapet.

Siegfried waves at a trio of fangirls.

Eksu practices gentle sword forms beneath a maple.

Elizabeth sharpens daggers while humming wedding marches.

Lucifer circles them like a shark father.

The campus bustles with drama.

And yet—no villain credit.

My stomach growls.

I share one last crumb with the loyal pigeons.

Maybe I should attend social mixers.

Hand out business cards.

“Hello, I’m the future calamity. Please notice me before finals.”

I check my pocket mirror.

Eyes dark? Yes.

Cheekbones sharp? Sharp enough to cut self-esteem.

Cloak adequately billowy? Billowy and brooding.

Still overlooked.

I consider writing threatening poems and stapling them to notice boards.

But the drama club already does that.

I drum fingers on the stone.

Idea: sabotage the rose bushes.

Create thorn beasts to chase couples.

But Lucifer plans to burn the gazebo anyway, so no one will stroll there.

Every plan collides with someone else’s chaos.

My career path is crowded.

Perhaps I need branding.

A signature laugh?

A catchphrase?

A themed snack stand?

I pull a quill and scribble possible slogans.

“Remember my name—uh, when you learn it.”

Not catchy.

“Fear the shadow on the tower.”

Works only if they look up.

“Stop ignoring me or I’ll—”

Too needy.

Frustration mounts.

I kick a loose tile.

It tumbles down, lands beside Eksu.

He glances up briefly, nods politely, resumes practice.

Progress?

No.

He already forgot.

I slump deeper.

The pigeons coo encouragement.

One lands on my shoulder like a feathered pep talk.

I pet its head.

“At least you see me,” I mutter.

A spark of resolve returns.

The world may overlook me now, but inevitability takes patience.

Heroes graduate.

Demon Kings retire or get distracted by grandchildren.

I will persist, a quiet storm gathering on the horizon.

One day the academy will read my thesis in terror.

One day my name will echo louder than explosion frosting and jealous fathers.

Until then, I remain the villain nobody notices.

But pigeons remember.