The Villains Must Win
Chapter 227: No Second Chances 27

Chapter 227: No Second Chances 27

Lina 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.

Now, the lock was disengaged. Almost inviting.

Lina pushed the door open slowly. Beyond was a narrow staircase leading downward. Cold air drifted up from below, brushing against her skin like a warning.

Still, she stepped in, her breath shallow.

At the bottom of the stairs was another door—larger, heavier. She pushed it open and entered a wide room.

It was lavish. Too lavish. High ceilings, velvet drapes, and walls lined with gold-etched panels. But what caught her attention was the enormous pane of reinforced glass stretching across the far end of the room.

And beyond that glass . . . a bedroom.

A woman sat inside. Or rather—was confined inside.

Lina froze.

The room on the other side was eerily pristine, almost clinical. A bed, a small dresser, and nothing else. A glass wall as if she were an exhibit—or a prisoner.

In front of the glass stood a single armchair and a side table with an untouched glass of whiskey. Someone had been watching.

Lina stepped forward, her bare feet silent on the polished floor. The woman beyond the glass didn’t notice her at first.

She was beautiful—fragile. Golden hair curled to her waist, tangled and unkempt. Her skin was pale, her frame far too thin. Her eyes . . . hauntingly blue, but hollow. Empty. Like the life had been drained out of her.

Lina’s breath hitched.

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, the woman stirred. Her head turned slowly—and for a moment, her gaze landed directly on Lina.

Their eyes met.

A flicker of recognition. Then fear.

And then, suddenly, the woman rushed to the glass, pressing her hands against it.

"Help me," she whispered hoarsely.

Lina stumbled back, startled. "Y-You . . . you’re alive?" For a moment she thought she was a doll.

"Please," the woman said again, her voice rasping. "Help me. Get me out of here. He won’t let me leave."

Lina’s heart was racing. "What happened? Are you kidnapped? Is this—what is this?"

Was Fredrich . . . kidnapping women?

Lina’s mind spun as the image of the glass room and the hollow-eyed woman haunted her thoughts. What was he doing with them? Keeping them as prisoners? Experiments? Bargaining chips?

It didn’t make sense. Fredrich didn’t seem like the type. He was cold, yes—calculating, secretive—but not cruel in the obvious way.

Not the kind of man who did those kinds of things to women. He wasn’t lecherous or vulgar. In fact, with a face like his—chiseled, flawless, aristocratic—it was more likely that women threw themselves at him.

If anything, they were the ones who acted out of line, trying to claim him, seduce him, own him.

So why keep someone locked in a room like that?

Was she someone important? A daughter of a rival, perhaps? Someone connected to a business deal gone wrong or an enemy from an older feud? Was this about leverage? Power?

Maybe Fredrich wasn’t keeping her for pleasure, but for control.

Ransom. Blackmail. Retaliation.

Whatever the reason, it was dark. It was wrong. And it meant Lina had walked into something far more dangerous than she’d thought.

And now . . . she had to decide if she was going to play along—or find a way out.

She glanced around the room in panic. It looked like something from a psychological thriller. She was half-convinced this wasn’t real—that maybe she’d fallen asleep and was dreaming.

The woman’s eyes darted to something behind Lina—and suddenly, her face twisted with fear.

"No—he’s here," she gasped, stepping away from the glass.

Lina’s breath caught in her throat.

She turned.

And standing just a few feet away, emerging from the shadows of the doorway, was Fredrich.

His presence was like a punch to the gut—tall, imposing, eyes gleaming in the low light. His face unreadable. Emotionless. But something simmered beneath his calm expression. Something cold.

He didn’t say a word.

And neither did Lina.

Her whole body went still, her throat dry. Fredrich’s presence filled the room like a shadow—his silence heavier than any accusation.

For the first time since arriving at the villa, Lina felt like she’d crossed a line she couldn’t uncross.

Something inside her whispered: Not good. This is not good.

Fredrich stepped forward slowly, each footfall deliberate, measured. She tried to steady her breath, to pretend like she had an excuse ready. That she wasn’t panicking inside.

But the room said it all.

The girl. The glass prison. The whiskey. The chair.

This wasn’t just a secret.

It was something more.

"Lina," Fredrich said finally, voice low and smooth. "I thought you were asleep."

She flinched.

"I—I couldn’t sleep," she stammered. "I heard a noise and thought I’d . . . just look around. For, um . . . food?"

Even as the words left her mouth, she cringed. It sounded ridiculous. Unbelievable. She didn’t even believe herself.

Fredrich looked past her, to the woman now trembling in the glass room.

Then back to Lina.

And smiled.

But it wasn’t kind.

Not really.

"Let’s get you back to bed," he said softly.

His voice was gentle, but his eyes held steel.

"Uhm . . . are we just going to pretend that this didn’t happen?"

"Do you want to know the answer?"

Lina couldn’t speak at first. She had to admit—she was desperate to know. In most games she’d played, she had mastered the art of picking the correct choice from dialogue trees. But this time . . . she hesitated.

This wasn’t a game with predictable paths. This world was unstable. The characters were unpredictable.

Anything could be a trigger.

And yet, she felt it—that this was a turning point. A critical moment.

Finally, she chose to nod.

"Yes," she said softly. "Who’s that girl inside the glass? And why is she in there?"

Fredrich’s expression darkened, like a storm rolling silently behind his eyes. The sharp lines of his face stiffened, and for a long moment, he said nothing.

Then he spoke, his voice low, almost hollow. "She was my lover."

Lina’s breath hitched.