Playing the Villainess, He Fell for Me

That was practically something you’d say to a child. Joanna pouted. ”I’m not that childish...”

Even as she denied being childish, her gaze kept drifting to the window, her expression full of longing. Simon Lockwood pretended not to notice and placated her, ”Yes, you’re not childish.”

Meeting her slightly haughty gaze, Simon Lockwood lowered his head, pressing his forehead against hers. Their eyes locked. His gaze deepened, his tone unreadable. ”Joanie is the most mature of all...”

Their foreheads touched, warmth radiating between them. They could hear each other’s heartbeats—one of them was definitely racing. His deep, pleasant voice was a hot whisper against her ear.

Joanna stammered, ”W-well, of course.”

The snow fell harder and harder. Sean Grant’s excited shouts were clearly audible through the window, and Joanna was starting to get restless.

Seeing that he was absorbed in his work, she stealthily opened her suitcase. First, she pulled on a fluffy, burgundy hoodie, then slipped on her clean, dark-gray trench coat over it.

Then, an idea struck her. Noticing Simon still hadn’t looked her way, she quickly grabbed a dark gray bundle and stuffed it into the inner pocket of her trench coat.

Even though the pocket was deep, it still created a small bulge. She patted it down, trying to make it as flat as possible.

Once everything was ready, Joanna sat on the edge of the bed and feigned a casual cough. The first cough got no response.

She furrowed her brow and coughed again. This time, the man finally deigned to lift his eyelids. His tone was ambiguous. ”Does the ever-so-mature Joanie want to go down and play?”

Joanna: ”..........”

’Can’t you be a little more subtle?! Why can’t you just let some things slide?!’

”I just think that working constantly is bad for your eyes. You should really go out for a walk,” Joanna said earnestly, refusing to admit the real reason.

Simon Lockwood’s expression remained unchanged, his tone flat. ”Oh, don’t worry about me. My eyesight is perfect. Unlike a certain someone, who became nearsighted from playing video games late at night.”

The nearsighted certain someone: ”..........”

Joanna was rendered speechless. She ground her teeth, his deadpan expression just making her angrier. Frustrated, she burst out, ”Simon Lockwood, you’re so infuriating!”

A furious and flustered Joanie wasn’t much of a threat. A barely perceptible smile touched Simon Lockwood’s lips as he drawled, ”So you hate me again?”

The conversation felt familiar, almost as if she were pouting just for show. Annoyed, Joanna deliberately lowered her voice. ”Fine, don’t go. I’ll go by myself.”

She started for the door as she spoke, but her steps were deliberately slow. Only after she saw him get up out of the corner of her eye did she turn the doorknob with a sense of relief.

The snow was coming down hard. In just a short while, the ground was already blanketed in white. Before the flakes could melt into the rain-soaked earth, they were covered by even more snow.

Sean Grant had managed to find some sparklers. Against the dim evening sky, they cast a multicolored glow.

Acting incredibly childish, he feigned poking Jack Warren—who was standing primly to the side—with a sparkler. Jack instinctively recoiled and nearly slipped. Once he steadied himself, he frowned and kicked out without a shred of mercy.

A squeal like a stuck pig from Sean Grant echoed through the empty old street. Seeing a tall figure and a shorter one approaching in the distance, he let out a yowl. ”Simon! Joanna! Save me! I’m being abused!”

He was wailing like a pig on its way to slaughter, but there wasn’t a single tear on his face.

Jack Warren’s mouth twitched. He walked over, his trademark smile gone, and said with clear disdain, ”Ignore him. He’s a lunatic.”

Joanna made a little gesture to show she understood.

Seeing he’d get no sympathy from Joanna, Sean Grant stopped his fake crying. His eyes snapped open and he began to protest, ”Simon, you need to get your Joanie in line! Look at her! How can she treat me like this...”

Sean Grant continued to ramble on indignantly. Without even lifting his gaze, Simon Lockwood said calmly, ”Jack Warren.”

As if hearing a magic word, Jack Warren expertly grabbed the still-ranting Sean Grant and dragged him away.

As they got further away, Sean’s pleas for mercy and fawning could still be heard, until Jack Warren apparently couldn’t take it anymore and roared, ”Shut up!”

The world was finally quiet.

It was a textbook case of one person keeping another in check. Joanna could no longer hold it in and burst out laughing. ”Is Sean Grant crazy?”

Simon Lockwood, feeling not a shred of guilt for throwing his friend under the bus, nodded seriously. ”A little.”

”It must be tough being his friend. But...” Joanna patted Simon’s shoulder, her eyes twinkling as she adopted a sagely tone. ”They say birds of a feather flock together, so it’s not like you’re getting the short end of the stick.”

Simon Lockwood: ”..............”

Seeing her sly, triumphant expression, Simon Lockwood sighed softly and didn’t argue. ”As long as you’re happy.”

Joanna raised an eyebrow, showing just how happy she was. She was always happy when she got to one-up Simon Lockwood. She had finally gotten her payback.

The two walked shoulder to shoulder along the old street, a black umbrella shielding them from the swirling snow. Joanna reached out her hand, and icy snowflakes landed on her palm, melting almost instantly.

Her slightly reddened fingers were suddenly enveloped by a large, warm, dry hand. Joanna froze for a second, her gaze traveling up from the well-defined knuckles to the hand’s owner.

Simon Lockwood’s eyes were cast downward, his long eyelashes brushing his cheeks. With a natural motion, he tucked her hand into his overcoat pocket.

The umbrella wasn’t quite big enough. Snow dusted one shoulder of his black overcoat, melting and disappearing just as quickly. Simon Lockwood, seemingly unaware, explained:

”It’s freezing. Look, but don’t play with it.”

”..........”

The warmth returned to her snow-chilled fingers, spreading from their tips through her entire body. Something stirred in Joanna’s heart, and she stopped in her tracks.

Under his watchful gaze, she pulled the dark gray bundle from her trench coat pocket and held it out to him. Her tone was a little awkward. ”It’s for you.”

The snow continued to fall. A streetlight flickered on, its dim, yellow glow illuminating the small space around them, as well as the fuzzy, dark-gray object in the girl’s hands.

Joanna blushed and explained, a little embarrassed, ”It’s a scarf. For you.”

The snow kept falling. The girl held up the dark gray bundle, her cheeks and the tip of her nose flushed from the cold. Her large, shining eyes gazed up at him hopefully, as if she were presenting a priceless treasure.

Christmas... the first snow... a scarf...

The memory and the present moment merged, time itself seeming to fold.

Simon Lockwood’s breath hitched, and his mind went completely blank. For several seconds, he couldn’t make out what Joanna was saying. All he could hear was the frantic, violent thumping of his own heart.

The sight of her fingers, bright red from the cold, finally brought him back to his senses. He didn’t take the scarf. Instead, he slowly lowered his head, his voice raspy. ”Put it on for me...”

The blizzard raged on, falling upon the streetlights, upon the mountains of Oakhaven. On a mountain peak, cordoned off by a blue guardrail, a figure suddenly appeared.

A white sweater peeked out from beneath a black down jacket. The figure stepped through the deep snow, passing beyond the guardrail. The footprints they left were quickly buried, leaving no trace behind.