How Could the Villainous Young Master Be a Saintess?

This world was full of malice toward him. If he kept shamelessly living on like this, it would only be humiliating himself.

Better to draw a full stop right here.

With that thought, the Moon Elf’s eyelids slowly closed.

If he closed his eyes, would he see his father-king, his mother-queen, and those relatives and friends who had died in the war?

The Moon Elf’s expression gradually softened into calm. In his eyes, it seemed as if everything had quieted down, returning to peace.

Childhood memories surged up. At this moment, he seemed to turn back into that little elf princess—happily nestled in his mother-queen’s arms, strolling through a garden full of fluttering butterflies under the companionship of his father-king and the guards, innocent and carefree.

If he thought about it carefully, the other world might not have flowers and sweetness, but it definitely had his family and friends.

As long as they were there, that was enough. What could be happier than being with them? Only where they were could be called home.

In this world, he had nothing left to cling to—only pain and despair. If so, what was there in this world worth lingering over?

Thinking that, the Moon Elf’s eyes closed completely.

As his vision sank into darkness, he seemed to see the garden and palace that existed only in his memories. An elf temple of exquisite beauty rose from the ground, Moon Elf children leaped and played in flowerbeds full of butterflies, and he, too, put on once again the Moon Elf princess dress woven from Mistmoon Forest’s moonlight silk that he hadn’t worn in ages. At his side, his kind, gentle father-king and mother-queen sat nearby, looking at him with eyes full of love.

‘This... is the happiness you’ve always longed for, isn’t it?’ A voice of nothingness, impossible to distinguish in tone, sounded by his ear.

“Who... are you??”

‘Look at your current state. Besides, even if you really did restore your country, you still could never reach a place of happiness like this again.’ That hazy, drifting voice did not answer Shicodale’s question.

‘Even if you restore your country in the end, your parents, your family, your friends—they can’t come back.’

‘You’re still alone. Even if you restore your country, you can only stand on empty ruins and spend this agonizing, long life.’

“......” Shicodale fell silent. He (kneaded) his princess dress, the texture so real, and then looked toward his parents not far away, gazing at him with indulgence—this happiness was so pure, something he could see and touch.

“Yes. Even if I go back, I’m still alone.” Shicodale murmured.

‘That’s right. Why keep thinking about that ugly world? No one in that world remembers you. You don’t have anyone there worth remembering either. So just stay here like this—stay in this paradise.’

“Here isn’t the real world. It’s just an illusion, right?” Shicodale asked, eyes lost.

‘Whether it’s real or not depends on how you define it. To put it plainly, your so-called real world is only the images your eyes form and transmit to your brain, reflected back to you. Consciousness and spirit have always been the most essential things—the foundation of everything.’

‘If the things your eyes form and reflect to your brain are real, then why aren’t things reflected directly into your brain real? There’s no essential difference. If you insist there is one, it’s that the things reflected directly into your brain are more beautiful—more beautiful by thousands upon thousands of times than what you see with your own eyes.’

‘Isn’t that so?’

Shicodale did not answer, only silently shifting his gaze to this land of birdsong and blossoms.

This was the place he knew best, the place he missed most. Every time he returned here, it was always in dreams.

‘Your dreams have already shown your longing. Now that such longing has come true, you can be with the people you love most and the land you miss most forever. Why must you chase cruel reality?’ The voice continued.

‘Look—aren’t they your most familiar parents? Aren’t these your most beloved kin? Isn’t this land your hometown you’ve been longing for day and night??’

“Yes....” Shicodale stared deeply at all this beauty. He seemed to be moved.

‘Things that only appear in dreams are now within your grasp. Is there anything more wonderful than this?’

‘Don’t reject it. Why reject it?’

Shicodale nodded without thinking. In a hazy daze, he felt as if there was still something important he had forgotten, but the scene drawn before his eyes was simply too beautiful.

He wanted to be with his parents, with his home, forever—even if all of it was fake.

So Shicodale walked, step by step, toward his parents.

That was right. What did truth or falsehood matter? If he was happy, then everything was real. Otherwise, no matter how real it was, if the world held only pain, who would linger over it??

‘Yes. That’s it. Let’s stop thinking about scars and painful things. Only your own joy, your own happiness—that’s the truest thing.’ The voice continued to guide him.

Shicodale’s gaze gradually went unfocused. He sank into this false paradise.

“Dale.” Just then, an unfamiliar, lilting female voice called out to him.

Dale?

Shicodale hesitated. He tilted his head.

Who was this “Dale” being called?

He wasn’t called Dale. He was called Shicodale. If so, this Dale shouldn’t be calling him.

But why?

Why did he instinctively feel like it was calling him??

Dale... this form of address felt so familiar.

Shicodale pressed a hand to his aching head. His instincts told him that ever since he had fallen into misfortune and left his homeland, even though painful and despairing memories took up the vast majority, it wasn’t all pain.

There was someone—someone who always called him “Dale,” someone with a very similar experience, sharing the same sickness and pitying each other.

Ever since leaving his homeland, in foreign lands, Shicodale had seen too much of human malice. Only then did he understand that in this world, there was rarely goodwill without reason. He had never felt even the slightest goodwill from other races.

After all, even the Golden Elves—his own kind—would not lend a hand when they were in danger. Let alone outsiders full of prejudice??

But that person was different.

They lived under the same roof, and when his mind was about to collapse—when isolation and helplessness were about to crush him—he pulled him back onto shore.

After that, his unconditional kindness was the only warm, shining heat source in Shicodale’s life during that unbearably bleak time.

He helped him when he couldn’t pay tuition and was about to starve. He viciously dealt with the tribal students who bullied him. He kept telling him to be strong, to be confident—if he himself believed he couldn’t do it, then no one could help him.

When Shicodale did something stupid, he would show disdain on the surface, yet he taught him again and again, making him better next time.

When weak Shicodale ran into problems he couldn’t solve, he was always the first to stand up—he never sat by and did nothing.

His original intention was to make Shicodale strong, strong enough that no one would dare bully him again.

So Shicodale wouldn’t feel like he owed him, he deliberately found all kinds of reasons to help him—just so it would be “proper” and “justified.”

That was the first kindness Shicodale received after losing his home, the warmest and most blazing kindness—from a stranger, from an outsider race.

Shicodale would never forget that kindness.

At first, he had thought it was because that person was strong in the first place, so he had the leeway to help him.

Later, he learned there was no such thing as someone who was “strong in the first place.” That person hadn’t pulled him from the shore—he, too, was struggling in the surging waves, and still pushed Shicodale one step closer to land.

Gradually, Shicodale began to rely on him, even developing an indescribable feeling toward him.

So... who was he??

Did such a person really exist?

Shicodale’s consciousness—shrouded in gloom—began to show signs of loosening.

He tried desperately to recall who that person was, but no matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t get an answer. He could only see a blurry silhouette.

Why... couldn’t he remember anything??

“Dale.” The mysterious female voice sounded again. “I know you miss your family and your hometown, but please, don’t drown yourself in a past that’s already dead.”

“Look forward, Dale. You shouldn’t stop here. You still have a future that belongs to you—your own future, boundlessly bright.”

“If they really are your parents, then they should let you face the future bravely and have a future of your own, not drown in a false past.” The gentle, lilting voice dispersed the post-rain gloom like a rainbow.

“Your people are still waiting for you. They’re still counting on you.” The tender voice continued to guide him.

‘What’s the point? Staying in that world to suffer?’ The hazy, gloomy voice jumped in to interfere. ‘Here, you can do anything you want, have anything you want.’

‘And in that world, no one cares about you. No one remembers you.’

“I remember you, Dale.” The female voice said sincerely. “I’ve always cared about you.”

Shicodale’s almond eyes widened slightly.

This voice felt unfamiliar, yet the emotions within it felt incomparably familiar.

“Dale—no, Shicodale.” Vanessa no longer called Shicodale “Dale.” “I know you miss home very much, but please don’t forget—I miss you too.”

‘So just because you miss him so much, you want him to go back with you, to face that cruel and merciless world together? Heh. How ridiculous. You’re a mess yourself, yet you still drag your friend into the fire. Is it that you can’t stand seeing other people doing well? Is this what you call a “friend”? If you really want what’s best for him, you should let him stay in this happiness paradise that belongs only to him.’

“I’m not making Shicodale go back with me.” Vanessa said calmly. Then she spoke to Shicodale, word by word.

“Shicodale, if you truly only long for this false world, and you have no attachment to that world at all, then I cannot interfere with your choice.”

“I just want you to know—you’re not alone. I’ve always been by your side.”

“Even if you sink into this world, please don’t forget: I’ve always been waiting for you, waiting for you to come home.”

“CLICK!” That line—“waiting for you to come home”—made the shackles locked on Shicodale’s consciousness shatter completely.

‘Dale, how many times have I told you? Men have to be broad-minded! Don’t act like a sissy all day—if you do, everyone who sees you will bully you!’

‘Dale, don’t cry, don’t cry. What are you crying for? I’ve told you so many times—what matters most for a man is steadiness! All right, stop crying. This young master is here. You’ll be fine.’

‘Tch, bullying her—what kind of skill is that? Listen up. This young master is the number one notorious young master in the Camella Royal Capital. If we’re talking evil and ruthless, you’re all playing what I already played and got bored of!’

He remembered. He remembered everything.

That human youth named Vinny Facilis—every little bit between the two of them.

In fact, Shicodale had long ago keenly noticed that Vinny wasn’t as impressive as he bragged he was. He also had things he couldn’t do.

But even so, when facing Shicodale—someone in the same situation as him—he still extended a helping hand without hesitation. Even if he had to force himself to keep up appearances, even if he had to grit his teeth and put on a tough-guy act, he still stood up for him, taught him what it meant to be a man, so that when he went out in the future, he wouldn’t get bullied again.

Right. How could that be?

How could he have forgotten him?

After Shicodale woke up, he only heard a “CRACK!” as this beautiful, illusory scene shattered, and the princess dress on his body turned back into that tattered Carillian Academy uniform.

He raised his eyes again, feeling something, and looked toward the breathtakingly beautiful pink-haired girl walking toward him out of the darkness.

“So you are...?” Shicodale asked hesitantly. Even though he already had a vague answer in his heart, he still couldn’t quite believe it.

After all, calling him “Dale” in that familiar tone, and saying she had been waiting for him to come home—who else could she be??

Vanessa didn’t speak. She only walked up to Shicodale in silence, then put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into her embrace, her cheek lightly rubbing against his forehead.

“Mm....” Shicodale instantly felt his body warm up fast.

Only then did he realize he had been submerged in icy seawater for far too long, to the point that he had forgotten what warmth even was.

Those earlier images looked beautiful, but they had all been ice-cold without any sensation. Only here was it warm and soft.

Shicodale breathed in the fragrance of white tea blossoms and lavender lingering at his nose. Resting against that full softness brimming with maternal warmth, his tear ducts, for some reason, became unbelievably sensitive.

At this moment, he felt like he had returned to his early-deceased mother’s arms, able to act spoiled like a little child to his heart’s content.

“Welcome home, Dale.” Vanessa used her height advantage to hold Shicodale in her arms, whispering softly by his ear.