The Villains Must Win
Chapter 226: No Second Chances 26

Chapter 226: No Second Chances 26

"Do you play?" Lina asked.

"Enough to forget the world for a while."

She sat beside him on the bench, careful to keep a polite distance.

Fredrich began a soft melody. Minor chords threaded through with warmth. It wasn’t showy or practiced—just honest.

"I used to play," she said quietly. "As a kid. Then I stopped."

"Why?"

"No one was listening."

Fredrich turned to her then, his expression unreadable. "I would’ve listened."

The silence after that felt thick with something unnamed.

Lina stood. "I should let you work. I’m already intruding enough."

"You’re not," he said quickly. Then, catching himself, he added, "Stay as long as you need."

She gave a nod and turned to leave, heart beating too fast.

Back in her suite, Lina found herself pacing. She didn’t like this. This feeling. This pull toward him that made no sense. He was mysterious, wealthy, unreadable—just like Christian in all the worst ways. And yet, Fredrich didn’t feel like a man trying to trap her.

He felt like a man trying not

Still, she needed boundaries. Lines. Clarity.

She still couldn’t fully comprehend this world—every character she encountered could just as easily be the hero or the villain.

That evening, as the sun bled gold across the sky, she found him again in the drawing room.

"Fredrich," she said.

He looked up from a book.

"I’d like to help around the villa. Do something useful while I’m here."

His brow rose. "You’re not a guesthouse tenant, Lina."

"I’m not a charity case either."

They stared at each other. Then he nodded. "Very well. What can you do?"

"I’m good with paperwork. Organizing. Research."

A smirk played on his lips. "Perfect. Tomorrow morning, you’ll meet with Eleni—she handles my archives. She’ll find something for you."

Lina nodded, relieved. At least she wouldn’t feel as much as indebted toward him.

As she turned to go, he said, "Lina."

She paused.

He rose and walked toward her, his steps calm and slow. "I’m heading to the city tomorrow," he said, stopping just a pace away. "You should come with me. Buy some clothes, and everything you needed."

Lina glanced down at the outfit she was wearing—yesterday’s clothes, slightly wrinkled from sleep. She had forgotten to change. Again.

Her memory drifted to the elegant wardrobe in her room, filled with clothing far too expensive to feel like her own.

The truth was, she hadn’t dared to wear most of it. The tags were still on, untouched. Some were limited edition collections from designers she didn’t recognize, while others were from famous brands she only ever saw in magazines. A few pieces even looked custom-tailored.

She had never asked Fredrich who the clothes originally belonged to. Something about it felt too personal, like peeking into a part of his life she hadn’t been invited into.

But now that he was offering her the chance to fill her own wardrobe—pieces that she’d choose, that reflected her—she found herself quietly grateful.

"Sure," she said, her voice soft. "Thank you."

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask who those clothes belonged to. But she held the question back, afraid of the answer.

Instead, she met his eyes, swallowed the hesitation building in her chest, and whispered, "Good night."

Fredrich didn’t move, but his eyes lingered on her a moment longer. Then, with the faintest nod, he turned and went back to what he was doing.

Later that night, Lina couldn’t sleep.

She lay on the bed, eyes fixed blankly on the ornate ceiling above her. Her thoughts churned endlessly, a quiet storm inside her head.

She had been trying to piece everything together—this world, this twisted story she had fallen into. How was she supposed to "win" if she couldn’t even tell who the villain was anymore?

She had a few ideas. Fragments of a plan. But none of them felt concrete, and she didn’t know if any would actually work. Still, they were all she had now—shadows of hope she clung to in the dark.

Drowsiness finally began to pull at her, her eyes fluttering shut—when a sound broke the silence.

A rustling. No—more than that. It was controlled, precise, yet too consistent to be ignored. Like a quiet ruckus coming from outside her window.

Her heart jumped.

Lina sat up, ears straining, breath held. She was on the second floor. What could possibly be making noise this late?

Cautiously, she padded over to the window and peeked through a gap in the heavy curtains.

Outside, half-shrouded in moonlight, were men in black suits. Armed. Moving with military precision.

Fredrich’s guards.

They were unloading something from a large black van—heavy crates, shielded bundles, objects she couldn’t clearly make out.

But it didn’t look like groceries or furniture. These were secured like contraband—like weapons. Or worse.

She swallowed hard and drew the curtain shut. The hairs on her arms stood on end.

Something wasn’t right. She knew Fredrich wasn’t just some reclusive aristocrat with old money and pretty suits.

But this? This felt like something darker. Dangerous.

And if they were distracted now, maybe—just maybe—this was her chance. To find something, anything to gather more information.

The estate was covered in security cameras. She knew that. There were no blind spots, no dark corners where one could sneak by unseen. But she didn’t care.

If she was caught, she’d play innocent. Say she couldn’t sleep. That she got lost looking for a midnight snack. She could sell that lie. Hopefully.

Anyway, nothing would happen if she remained scared and inside her room.

Quietly, Lina slipped out of her room and padded barefoot into the hall. The corridor was empty, unusually so.

Most nights, there were at least two guards stationed near the main stairwell. Tonight? No one.

Her pulse quickened. She headed deeper into the estate—toward the part of the mansion that had always been off-limits. The one hallway that always had at least three guards standing post. But now . . .

No guards.

No sound.

Only eerie silence.

She hesitated in front of a door she’d passed before but had never been allowed to enter. She wasn’t even sure what was behind it—just that it was always locked, and always watched.