Villain's Odyssey: Enslaving heroines, Conquering Villainesses
Chapter 65: The Situation

Chapter 65: Chapter 65: The Situation

"You can rest easy, she’s stable now. Just make sure she doesn’t do... whatever it is she was attempting that caused the problem," said the woman in the black-violet gown. The white coat draped over her shoulders bore the academy’s medical insignia on the left breast pocket, marking her as one of the senior healers. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a practical bun, though a few strands had escaped to frame her tired face. She looked to be in her thirties, with the kind of weary expression that came from dealing with reckless students day after day.

"I will, thank you," the young man replied, his voice barely above a whisper as he kept his eyes fixed on the unconscious girl’s pale face.

The healer studied him for a moment, taking in his disheveled appearance and the way his fingers intertwined with the patient’s. "You should head back to your dorm. You have maybe ten minutes before curfew locks down. You’re already in hot water for missing evening roll call." Her tone carried the authority of someone used to being obeyed, but there was an undertone of sympathy there too.

The young man said nothing, his grip on the girl’s hand only tightening. His knuckles had gone white from the pressure.

The healer let out a long sigh, shaking her head as she gathered her supplies. "Young love," she muttered under her breath, more amused than annoyed. She’d seen this same scene play out countless times over the years. "Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone."

After her footsteps faded down the corridor, he finally spoke.

"We failed again." The words came out flat, defeated.

This wasn’t their first botched mission, and the weight of that failure sat heavy on his shoulders. His mind drifted back to their previous attempt during the second-year final exams. Vena had brought in someone new that time—a student named Azalea who supposedly had some skill with runic magic. Everyone knew the guy; he was that pathetic follower who trailed after Isabelle like a lost puppy, always trying to catch her attention and failing spectacularly.

But when Azalea showed up for their meeting, something had been different. Gone was the nervous, fumbling student from their classes. Instead, he carried himself with a cold confidence that made the air feel heavier. His movements were calculated, precise, and when he spoke, every word seemed chosen for maximum impact. Something in the young man’s gut had screamed not to trust him, but Vena had been adamant.

"I trust him," she’d said with more conviction than he’d ever heard from her about anyone else. That had stung more than he cared to admit. The idea that she’d grown close enough to someone else to actually trust them, especially someone like Azalea, had eaten at him. But he’d pushed those feelings aside and agreed to work with the guy.

And Azalea had delivered, at least initially.

Everything had gone according to plan until the climax of their mission. The protective barrier surrounding the academy had suddenly shattered like glass, and chaos erupted as monsters poured through the breach. While the faculty and city guards scrambled to contain the invasion, their small group had seized the opportunity to infiltrate the academy’s vault. The relic they’d come for was right there, practically within reach.

Then that psychopath had appeared out of nowhere.

The memory still made his blood boil. Some deranged individual had intercepted them at the last second and made off with their prize, leaving them empty-handed and furious. The authorities never caught wind of their attempted theft, and in a stroke of luck, Azalea had somehow become the scapegoat for the entire incident. He wouldn’t lie—part of him had felt satisfied watching the guy take the fall. But that satisfaction was overshadowed by the fact that they’d still failed their mission.

His superiors had not been pleased. Their patience was wearing thin, and he’d known he needed to deliver something, anything, to get back in their good graces.

That’s when they’d discovered the truth about Natalia’s necklace.

The crippled girl who worked at that little restaurant had been wearing the Eyes of Urobus around her neck like it was nothing more than a pretty piece of jewelry. The artifact his superiors desperately needed to resurrect some ancient demonic creature—though they’d never bothered explaining why they wanted the thing in the first place.

The mission should have been simple. Get confirmation that the girl possessed the relic, then take it. The restaurant worker had verified that Natalia did indeed have what they were looking for, so they’d moved in quickly. But somehow, they’d failed again. This time was worse though—one of their own had been hurt in the process.

He looked down at Vena’s unconscious form, her chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of deep sleep. Her long black hair spread across the white pillow like spilled ink, and her delicate features looked even more fragile in the dim infirmary lighting. She was beautiful, had always been beautiful, but right now she just looked broken.

"Please wake up," he whispered, forcing a small smile.

....

....

"Something definitely happened to him," Maria growled as she paced around her dorm room, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

She’d changed out of her academy uniform into a simple black dress that hugged her curves nicely, though there was no one around to appreciate it. Her dark hair fell in loose waves past her shoulders, and her green eyes blazed with barely contained fury. Maria had always been striking—the kind of girl who turned heads when she walked into a room—but right now her beauty was overshadowed by the rage radiating from every line of her body.

Despite his completely different appearance, she knew that silver-haired, violet-eyed young man was Azalea. The bond between them might have been damaged, but it was still there, still connecting them in ways that went deeper than the physical. She could sense it like a constant hum in the back of her mind.

But something had changed him.

"Ugh!" The sound tore from her throat as she remembered the sight of him embracing that crippled girl, the one who was always hanging around Austin’s sister. The image was seared into her memory, and every time she thought about it, her vision went red with jealousy. Azalea’s arms were supposed to be around her and her alone. His gentle touches, his protective instincts—all of that belonged to her.

She stalked over to her wardrobe and pressed her fingers against a hidden panel, revealing a secret compartment. Inside was a single photograph, slightly worn from handling. It showed the two of them together during that trip to Albion, when they’d snuck out of the academy to eliminate a nobleman Az had identified as a future problem.

In the photo, they looked happy. Her head was resting on his shoulder, and both of them were smiling. It had been taken just before they’d completed their bloody work, back when they were still drunk on the thrill of their successful date. That night had ended with passion and violence in equal measure, with his hands on her body and their target’s blood on their clothes.

"Az, you bastard," she whispered to the photograph, pressing it against her chest as she collapsed onto her bed. "You can’t just change and leave me behind. I won’t let you."

...

...

"Anna?" Austin’s voice cut through her distracted thoughts.

"Huh?" She blinked, looking up from her untouched plate to find him watching her with concern.

He’d already finished most of his meal while she’d been lost in her thoughts.

"Your food," he said, gesturing toward her plate with his fork. "You haven’t eaten a single bite."

She glanced down and realized he was right. She’d been moving the food around absently, cutting it into smaller pieces without actually eating any of it.

"Oh... sorry. I guess I got distracted," she said, forcing a smile that felt hollow even to her.

"Clearly." He set down his utensils and leaned forward slightly. "What’s bothering you?"

Anna was quiet for a long moment, trying to find the right words. How could she explain the confusing tangle of emotions that had been eating at her since the incident? She loved Austin—or at least she still hoped she did. But why was she so disturbed by the memory of Azalea holding that girl?

"It’s nothing important," she finally said, but the words sounded unconvincing.

"You know that’s not true." Austin’s voice was gentle but persistent. "Talk to me."

She fell silent again, her mind racing. Maybe it was connected to what she and Vivian had experienced in that Legacy world, some lingering effect of the slave seal that had, and perhaps this strange jealousy was just another symptom of that.

Anna let out a long sigh, still unsure how to put her feelings into words. The whole situation was too complicated, too messy to explain easily. All she knew was that something about seeing Azalea with someone else had awakened emotions she didn’t fully understand, and it was tearing her apart inside.