I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 488: [Event] [Elven Utopian War] [27] Change Of Mind

Night arrived and I accompanied Freyja before her departure. We walked side by side.

When we reached the carriage, she turned to face me. ”I do hope you will fulfill my request, Loki,” she said quite expectantly.

Her obsession with that womanʼs death hadnʼt wavered. The idea weighed heavily on me-a woman marked for death without any clear reason. Yet, I had to do it for my mother. ”I have a certain wish...” I replied, keeping my words intentionally vague.

Her lips curved into a knowing smile. ”I can see it written all over your face. Youʼre hiding something from me.”

I met her gaze, expecting anger or suspicion, but there was none. Freyja regarded me with the same unshaken confidence she always had, as if I could never truly harm her. ”I will grant you any wish you desire,” she continued, her voice taking on a playful lilt, ”except perhaps the privilege of sharing my bed, of course.”

I grimaced instantly. ”You are indeed beautiful but that clearly wouldnʼt be enough to charm me.” ”I wouldnʼt dare, Your Highness,” I said curtly.

There was no way I was this desperate!

Why was she still confusing me as a woman?! ”I assure you, I havenʼt entertained any improper thoughts toward Your Highness,” I said again.

Freyja tilted her head, her amusement undiminished. ”I doubt that,” she said, her voice dropping as she reached out, her fingers brushing against my cheek. ”I only hope youʼll manage to satisfy me.” Her words were low, almost a murmur, and their meaning didnʼt really reach me.

I frowned, unsure how to respond. Her smile, in contrast, only widened. ”Donʼt look so forlorn at our parting, Loki. Kill her, and I shall reward you appropriately. A reward from the most beautiful woman in the world-does that not excite you?”

I forced a smile, strained as it was. ”Of course, Your Highness. Iʼm honored.” ”By the way,” I added quickly, hoping to shift the conversation, ”could Your Highness keep my horse? I would rather not take it with me into the chaos of war.”

Freyja raised a brow, then turned to one of her knights. ”Take his horse,” she ordered with a flick of her wrist.

Before the knight could approach, I placed a hand on the horseʼs mane, stroking it gently. The animal closed its eyes, leaning into my touch with a soft huff.

Freyjaʼs gaze softened, if only slightly. ”It seems youʼve grown fond of my gift,” she said. ”Indeed, and I remain grateful for it,” I replied sincerely. ”You should be,” Freyja smiled satisfied before stepping into the carriage. The door shut behind her with a quiet click, and the horses began to trot forward, taking Freyja away from Utopia-and from me.

Be it Freyja or Alvara, both women seemed to have more than a few screws loose. Twisted in their own peculiar ways, they mirrored each other disturbingly well. If I had to label it, Alvara was the human version of Freyja in some ways. It wouldnʼt be surprising to consider them as sisters even.

Stifling a yawn, I made my way back inside the towering structure of Utopia, where I had been granted a room. It was an odd privilege for someone like me, but such were the perks of being Freyja Ruvelionʼs so-called guard. She had insisted on it, of course. Her generosity felt more like a gilded cage than genuine kindness. Freyja had a habit of pampering me―lavish meals, fine quarters, and an unspoken air of favoritism. Yet I wasnʼt blind. I knew she sought to add me to her collection of treasures, a pawn among her possessions. That knowledge kept me on edge. ... ...

The following morning, I woke early-not out of discipline, but because I could hardly get sleep recently. That damn Sin of Sloth was still there, its lingering effects clawing at the edges of my sanity.

After dragging myself out of bed, I showered, letting the water wash away the weariness that clung to me. Refreshed but still burdened, I stood before the mirror, my hand reaching instinctively for Bryelleʼs pendant.

With a quiet click, I removed it.

The disguise wore off immediately. My hair lengthened, cascading in snowy-white waves down my back. My fabricated elven ears vanished, and my amber eyes stared back at me from the mirror.

I grimaced at the sight before me.

A thick, curving scar ran jaggedly from my abdomen, up my chest, and across to the side of my neck, barely brushing the edge of my chin. The wound had long since healed, but its mark was permanent.

I brushed my fingers along the marred skin. The memory of his attack still lingered vividly in my mind.

Perhaps Maria could remove it one day, after ascending to her position as the Saintess. If anyone could undo the damage caused by a sin, it would be her-or maybe Seraphina, depending on who ultimately claimed the title of Saintess of Eden.

For now, it didnʼt matter.

This scar and by the way all the other scars decorating my body could wait.

It was just yet another thing to deal with once the Second Game came to an end.

Placing the pendant back around my neck, I felt the familiar hum of its spell as my disguise reactivated. With a sigh, I adjusted my appearance one last time, then dressed in a fresh set of clothes before stepping out of my room.

Since learning that Durathiel wasnʼt in Utopia, Iʼd been able to relax-if only slightly. His absence was a small comfort, though it left me questioning his whereabouts. He wasnʼt in Sancta Vedelia either, and that was a troubling mystery. Still, his lowered vigilance worked in my favor, so I chose not to overthink it.

As I walked through the corridor, tying my hair back into a neat ponytail, a scoff escaped me. Durathielʼs confidence in his eventual victory was too obvious, and for good reason. He wielded that damn Sin, after all. It was hard to imagine him being defeated.

And yet, he had been.

The details came flooding back to me, fragments of the Gameʼs history etched into my memory. If I recalled correctly, it was only thanks to Victor, being the Apostle of Nihil, and Cylien, the Prophetess, that they managed to bring him down. With the Holy Tree lending its aid, they somehow overcame the odds and beat him.

But Victor wasnʼt the Apostle of Nihil yet, at least not in this timeline. Could it be only a matter of time?

I wasnʼt sure anymore about the Apostle of Nihil and I think I didnʼt care anymore. When I arrived in Sancta Vedelia nearly a year ago, my sole focus had been becoming Nihilʼs Apostle. It had seemed like the only path forward. But now... I wasnʼt so sure.

My priorities had shifted.

There were other ways to sever Annabelle and Samaraʼs cursed connection with me and grant them new lives. My desire to become the Apostle was no longer born from ambition, but necessity—a means to free them from their chains. Gaining influence and perhaps even a blessing from Nihil had been part of the plan, but it wasnʼt the crux of my goal anymore.

Their happiness was. [
]

Cleenah tried to reassure me but I shook my head. ”I know,” I replied softly, a small smile tugging at my lips. ”They wouldnʼt see it that way. But... Iʼve lost people before because of how closely they were tied to me. Mary and Jarvis. Their lives were cut short because of me. And back then, when I nearly lost myself... Anna and

Samara didnʼt escape unscathed either.”

My gaze lowered with guilt. ”They both deserved better in life while they were still alive-better than rejection and curses. This time, I want to give them a new beginning, a life free of burdens. A life they truly deserve.” [] ”Yeah, I know,” I replied, exhaling softly. ”But Iʼll make sure to keep some distance at first.

Theyʼve been with me for so long now, they probably only know me and the world I inhabit. They need to see more-experience life beyond me and my surroundings. Maybe itʼs best to entrust them to Aunt Belle as well.”

My thoughts drifted to Aunt Belle, aka the best Aunt in the world.

She was perfect for the role, always had been.

When my mother died, she had been my anchor, stepping into a role no one had asked of her but one she fulfilled it. She raised me with care, taught me with patience, and offered comfort when I felt lost. Until I pushed her away.

It wasnʼt her fault. After my motherʼs death, I was consumed by fear-the vision of the future Iʼd seen in the Game haunted me. A world where everyone, even Aunt Belle, turned against me, rejecting me and seeking my end.

Iʼd barely managed to withstand Elonaʼs and Mirandaʼs rejections, but Aunt Belle... she was like a second mother to me. Losing her wouldʼve been unbearable. So, I preemptively distanced myself.

I still remember the day I asked her to stay away from me. My words had been harsh, laced with a fear I couldnʼt voice. And yet, she hadnʼt argued. She hadnʼt cried or demanded an explanation.

She simply smiled.

She patted my head gently and left without another word.

All these years, she respected my request, never once bringing up the pain I caused her. And when I returned to her-when I finally recovered my memories of Nyr-she welcomed me back with open arms.

She wasnʼt a mother, but she had been the best I couldʼve ever hoped for.

I was sure Orlin would grow into someone remarkable under her guidance. She was nurturing and wise, someone who could instill the best in anyone fortunate enough to learn from her.

As for Tihana, Iʼd left her in the care of Stana Teraquin-a different choice entirely, but one that suited her unique circumstances.

But Annabelle and Samara?

After the Second Game, I would leave them with Aunt Belle.

She could help them regain what theyʼd lost-their sense of self, their identity, their place in the world.