Chapter 1 – Hero x Weak Villain

I forgot when being awful started feeling normal.

My room smelled like cold tea and dust. Dawn leaked through the curtains, thin and rude. The corridor outside stayed quiet, like it was judging me. A crow on the roof screamed like it was clocking in.

“Liz.”

My voice came out softer than I wanted, so I coughed like that fixed anything.

“Do not call me that.”

Elizabeth stood by the door with a tray, posture perfect, face blank. Her black hair fell straight and glossy, not a strand out of line. Her red eyes hit me once, then slid away, like eye contact cost extra.

“Good morning to you, too.”

She stepped in only far enough to set the tray down, then stopped. It was like there was an invisible line she refused to cross.

“Your breakfast.”

The bread looked stale. The soup looked sad. The boiled egg looked like it had given up on life.

“Did you poison it?”

“If I intended to kill you, you would not be speaking.”

Heat crawled up my neck, and I hated that it did. I stared at the soup anyway, because paranoia was basically my hobby.

“Okay, wow, love that energy.”

Elizabeth adjusted her sleeves, slow and precise. The movement felt like she was cleaning the air after my words.

“If you are finished, I will return to work.”

The tray sat between us like a peace offering I did not deserve. I pushed it away anyway, because I always pushed things away.

“Work, right.”

Silence stretched, heavy and awkward, and I could hear my own breathing. I hated that too.

“You did not eat yesterday.”

“I was busy being evil.”

Elizabeth looked at me again, and her eyes stayed cold. My joke fell flat, like it hit a wall and slid down.

“You were asleep.”

My stomach twisted, and my mouth reached for something softer. The habit grabbed the wheel first.

“Wow, you’re stalking me now.”

“I am assigned to this floor.”

I wanted to laugh, but my throat felt tight. I wanted to say sorry, but sorry felt like stepping off a cliff.

“Assigned, like a curse.”

“I am not here to entertain you.”

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, like I was about to confess to a crime. My lips parted, then my courage dipped out.

“Liz, I—”

“Do not.”

One word shut every door in my chest. I swallowed hard and grabbed the only weapon I had, being annoying.

“Okay, okay, you win, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth nodded once, like she did not care about winning, only ending this.

“I will bring fresh water later.”

Her tone made later sound like distance, and I deserved the distance.

“Yeah, sure.”

Elizabeth turned to leave. My mouth moved before my brain could stop it, because my brain was always late.

“Are you scared of me?”

Elizabeth paused without turning. The pause lasted long enough to hurt.

“I am tired of you.”

She walked out, and the door clicked shut like a verdict.

Noon waited somewhere in the castle, and it felt like a knife with my name on it.

..
.
.

My stomach growled, like it was betraying me on purpose.

The room felt smaller now. The tray sat on my desk like a guilt bomb. The hero was coming today, Blaze, the guy people talked about like he was sunlight with a sword. I pictured him walking in, ending me in one clean swing.

“Your attire.”

Elizabeth stood in the doorway again, holding a folded black coat like it was a rule I had to follow.

“I am not dressing up for my own execution.”

She kept her arms straight, like contact burned.

“It is not for you.”

I snatched the coat, fingers brushing hers by accident. Her hand pulled back instantly, like my skin was poison.

“Then who?”

“Standards.”

I shoved my arms into the sleeves and buttoned it wrong, because petty control was still control.

“Happy.”

“It is incorrect.”

“I know.”

“Fix it.”

“No.”

Elizabeth stared at the buttons, then at my face, like she was deciding if I was worth the effort. Her eyes looked tired again, and that tiredness made my chest pinch.

“The hero arrives before noon.”

“I know.”

“Do not embarrass the castle.”

I laughed, sharp and hollow, like the sound belonged to someone else.

“That is literally my whole brand.”

Elizabeth’s mouth did not move, but her eyes did, just a little. They looked past my jokes, straight at the ugly truth.

“Try, anyway.”

She left again, and the corridor swallowed her footsteps like it was relieved.

I walked toward the throne room, because fear loves drama and I was nothing if not dramatic.

..
.
.

The throne room doors shuddered like the castle flinched.

The hall smelled like stone and old banners. Sunlight cut through high windows, turning dust into floating sparks. My footsteps echoed, too loud, too small. The throne waited at the far end, oversized and ridiculous.

“So you finally showed up.”

Blaze stood at the bottom of the steps, cloak dusty, boots scuffed. His blond hair looked like he had slept on a battlefield. His face held exhausted blankness, like he had run out of emotions and never restocked.

“Yeah.”

I blinked, because that was it. No hero speech, no epic entrance, just one tired word.

“You look wrecked.”

“I am.”

That honesty threw me off. It also made him feel real, which was inconvenient.

“Wow, okay, chill.”

Blaze lifted his gaze to me, and his eyes looked heavy, like he was staring through fog.

“You are smaller than the stories.”

“Ouch.”

I spread my arms like I was presenting myself on a stage. The coat creaked like it was also embarrassed.

“Sorry, I am not a seven-foot demon king.”

Blaze did not smile. His voice stayed flat, like stones dropping into water.

“You have hurt people.”

“They survived.”

“They were scared.”

Everyone was scared of something. I almost said that, then stopped, because it sounded like an excuse.

“They were scared of you.”

My mouth went dry, and my fingers curled on the throne’s armrest. I forced a laugh anyway, because silence felt dangerous.

“Okay, hero lecture, do you get points for this?”

“I do not want points.”

Blaze’s hand rested near his sword, not gripping it, just there, like habit.

“Then what do you want?”

“I want you to stop.”

I snorted, then wished I had not. My laugh sounded thin.

“That is the most hero sentence I have ever heard.”

“The church ordered me to remove you.”

My skin prickled. The word remove sounded cleaner than kill, and that made it worse.

“Yeah, no cap, I figured.”

Blaze looked down, then back up, like he hated himself a little.

“I asked for another way.”

That did not match the stories. It also made my chest ache in a stupid place.

“You asked for mercy for me.”

“I asked for mercy for everyone.”

I stepped down one stair, then another, like moving closer could fake confidence. My legs felt shaky, which was so humiliating.

“So what, you are gonna kill me and go home?”

“I do not want to kill you.”

“Then do not.”

The words slipped out too fast, too raw, and I hated that he heard them.

“You make it hard.”

“That is also my brand.”

I tried to grin. It did not work. Blaze lifted his hand, palm open, and faint symbols shimmered in the air, pale and cold.

“Wait.”

“This binds you.”

My heartbeat punched my ribs, and the air felt suddenly tight.

“Bind me to what?”

“To consequences.”

Blaze’s lips moved in a silent recitation. The symbols brightened, then snapped inward like a trap closing.

The air slammed into my chest.

My breath vanished.

Pain sparked under my skin, sharp and fast, like needles in my ribs. I tried to yell, and nothing came out.

“No.”

The symbols twisted like a scared animal, then white light swallowed the hall.

..
.
.

Air slammed back into my lungs.

Cold stone pressed into my cheek. My head pounded like somebody played drums inside it. The throne room ceiling swam above me, then steadied.

“We are so dead.”

The voice did not come from the hall. It came from inside me, tired and close, like someone had moved into my skull.

“Blaze.”

I pushed up on shaking hands and grabbed a polished shield, using it like a mirror. My reflection made my stomach drop.

“I can see you doing the mirror thing.”

Blond hair, messy and bright, like it belonged to him. My eyes stayed the same, though, dark and sharp, villain eyes that made people step back.

“This is your fault.”

“Yeah, that is the fun part.”

I stumbled to my feet and spun in a slow circle. The hall stayed empty, and the silence felt loud.

“Where are you?”

“In your head, apparently.”

My throat went dry. I pressed my palms to my temples like I could push him out.

“Get out.”

“I would, trust me.”

I stared at the throne, then at the doors, then at my hands, like any of it might explain this. My skin crawled, and my heart would not slow down.

“Did you do this on purpose?”

“No.”

His voice sounded honest, which was annoying, because honest meant real.

“Then fix it.”

“I am trying to figure out how.”

I swallowed hard, because the truth hit, dead serious. The hero was not in front of me anymore.

“So you are like a ghost now.”

“Do not call it that, it is weird.”

“It is literally ghost behavior.”

“Okay, fair.”

I laughed once, sharp and shaky, then stopped, because laughing with a voice in your head was not a vibe.

“What happens if someone sees me?”

“They will think you are me.”

“And I still have my eyes.”

“Yeah, your eyes scream villain.”

I dragged a hand down my face and felt the wrong hair fall forward, too light, too soft. The mix looked like a prank from the universe.

“So I am you, but I am also me.”

“Congrats, we are both cooked.”

I took one step, then another, and the hall echoed like it was already spreading rumors.

A tired presence lingered behind my eyes, waiting.