Young Master's PoV: Woke Up As A Villain In A Game One Day

An hour passed.

The sky above us remained cracked — like a shattered mirror suspended over the world.

The crimson moon kept bleeding quietly in the distance, spilling light like a wound that refused to clot.

The surrounding forest didn’t get any nicer either.

We were moving deeper into the woods now.

And the further we walked, the more claustrophobic the overgrowth became. It was all just a suffocating tangle of vines, towering trees, and massive ferns.

The air was so thick with moisture and spores that every breath I took felt like sipping rot.

Moreover, the ancient trees looming above us didn’t look like anything natural.

They looked like something older — something eldritch and titanic. Their bark was lined with deep scars and phosphorescent fungi that glowed faintly under the red light of the moon, like veins beneath diseased skin.

And as for my company?

Well.

Let’s just say I was less than thrilled.

Lily was walking behind me — mostly in silence, though every now and then, she’d pipe up with something irritating.

Like a comment about the terrain. A thought about survival strategies. The occasional soft “Where are we going?” and “Are you hurting anywhere?”

I didn’t answer her.

Not even once.

I hissed. I growled. I kept walking.

I kept walking like a moody cat that hadn’t forgiven its owner for buying the wrong brand of kibble years ago. Sourced directly from MV6LEMP6YR.

Only in this case, the owner was my ex-girlfriend who had kissed someone else while we were still technically together.

…Okay, that analogy made no sense.

But you get my point.

Over the last few months — after gaining my past life’s memories, after realizing Lily was the main heroine in a game that had somehow become my new reality — I had told myself I wouldn’t feel anything for her.

I had told myself I’d treat her like any other useful character. A tool. A pawn. A powerful piece on the board to be maneuvered, exploited, and discarded if needed.

And I could’ve done that.

I could’ve done that easily!

You see, from a very young age, I had this… this personality trait. A quirk, you can call it.

I could turn off my emotions like flipping a switch.

And no — I’m not being poetic or figurative.

I mean I could literally shut it all off — fear, guilt, affection, sadness, love. All of it.

I could make it all go away in a moment’s notice.

It’s like yanking the power cord from an old machine. And the second I yank it, everything stops. Everything goes silent. And all that’s left is cold, mechanical logic that only cares about results.

That’s how I let thousands of people die in Ishtara. I dismissed the crippling guilt and hesitation I would’ve usually felt.

That’s how I fight without fear. I kill it.

Even during the massacre, when hundreds of Cadets froze up in paralyzing terror, I stayed calm because I shrugged the dread off like it was something to be shrugged off.

I don’t know what it is. A trauma response. A built-in coping mechanism. A curse… or maybe a blessing.

I don’t know.

The first time I consciously used it was when I activated the BloodWorm on Juliana.

I watched her scream and beg and convulse at the floor before me, blood leaking from her nose and tears streaking down her face.

While I felt… absolutely nothing.

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t hesitate. I just stood there — cold and quiet — looking down at her as if watching someone else’s nightmare unfold in front of me.

I felt like trash afterward. But not in that moment.

And I could’ve done the same for Lily.

I could’ve stopped feeling anything for her. I could’ve flipped the switch and used her like the asset she was.

I could’ve pretended to accept her apology instead of making things complicated.

…But I didn’t.

Because even after everything. Even after I swore I didn’t want to deal with her — even after I promised myself I didn’t care about what happened…

A small, stupid, vindictive, petty part of me still resented her.

And it resented her so much to stop caring.

So yeah.

I wasn’t exactly in the mood for a conversation.

We kept walking in silence occasionally broken by her one-sided chirping.

The jungle creaked around us. Some distant insect let out a wet screech.

The ground pulsed faintly underfoot, as though we were walking on the back of something that hadn’t fully decided if it was alive or not.

I continued to trudge forward even as Lily’s voice broke through the quiet hush for the nth time.

“So are you finally going to tell me where we are going?” She asked in her usual tone as we reached a small clearing. “You’ll have to tell me sooner or later, you know?”

And for the nth time, I ignored her.

Until—

“Alright, that’s it,” Lily took a deep breath and called out sharply. “You’re going to have to talk to me eventually!”

I simply kept walking.

Even the bugs seemed to hesitate. Like they knew the conversation was about to escalate and didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire.

“We’re stuck here, Sam!” she continued, her voice sounding a little brittle. “God knows for how long. For all we know, the two of us are the only ones here! You can’t just keep pretending I don’t exist!”

I continued doing exactly that.

I refused to acknowledge her presence — treating her like just another existential threat lurking in this jungle. And like all threats here, I had no intention of dealing with it… unless it gave me a reason to end it.

…Fortunately, she gave me that reason pretty soon.

From behind me, Lily manifested a Card, and a staff appeared in her hand.

It was a long, white staff — a little jagged at the ends like it had been carved from the bone of some giant creature by hand.

She then took three quick strides forward, spun around, and planted herself directly in front of me, barring my path like a very stubborn roadblock.

I blinked at her.

Then blinked again.

Then let out the deepest, most guttural sigh I’d managed all day.

My right eye twitched. “What do you think you are doing?”

“You’re going to fight me,” she declared, her staff held high.

I stared at her for a second before tilting my head very slowly. “What?”

“You heard me,” she nodded once. “You’ve always been good at fighting, Sam. That’s what you do. That’s all you do. When something bothers you, you fight it. When you can’t solve something with words or logic or patience, you beat it into the ground until it stops existing.”

My jaw tightened.

“You’re violent and aggressive. You think you’re complex, but really, you’re just hiding the fact that you don’t know how to talk about things.”

“Lily—”

“So fine. If talking my way doesn’t work for you,” she said, voice shaking now — not with fear, but with the kind of misguided frustration only friends can have for each other, “then we’ll talk your way. But you will talk. You won’t bottle everything up anymore. I know I hurt you. I’ve tried to apologize for it — again and again. And I’ll keep doing it until you finally hear me. Until you lash out. Scream. Curse. Or even punch me.”

…Wow.

Just wow!

The sheer audacity of this girl left me speechless!

My eyes narrowed to slits.

And in one fluid, infuriated motion, I grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her aside.

She stumbled a step but caught herself.

I resumed walking without looking back, mumbling beneath my breath, “Insufferable slag!”

Okay. In hindsight? Maybe I shouldn’t have called her that.

I went a bit too far.

Because that’s when she attacked me.

There was no warning.

No flare of killing intent. No shout. No preamble.

Just a faint shift in air pressure behind me—

And the whistle of a staff cutting through wind.

My instincts screamed at me.

I immediately ducked low, eyes flashing wide in disbelief as her staff whooshed over the top of my skull, missing my hair by mere inches.

“Are you insane?!” I snapped, turning around, my hands already rising up in a defensive stance. “You could’ve taken my fucking head off—!”

Lily raised her staff higher.

Her eyes were blazing now — not with anger, but with determination so raw and pure that it caught me completely off guard.

“We’re doing this,” she repeated.

And that’s when my patience finally broke.

My fists clenched.

My shoulders squared.

My lips pulled into a tight smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

I cocked my head just enough to crack my neck, then let out a low scoff that echoed slightly in the thick air.

“…Fine,” I muttered. “You want to talk with fists? Then I hope you brought a damn stretcher, because you’re about to get conversationed straight into the dirt.”

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