Maybe I really am a Villian

“Whyareyoutryingtokillme,Princess…?”Thesilver-hairedboy’svoicewasfaint,barelyaudibleoverthesoundofhisownraggedbreathing.Helaysprawledacrossthecoldmarblefloor,hisbodydrenchedinbloodthatslowlypooledbeneathhim.Theblonde-hairedgirllookeddownathim,herblueeyesdevoidofwarmth.“It’snotmyfault,Asher,”sherepliedinanindifferenttone.“Thisistheresultofyourownstubbornness.Isimplyaskedyoutojoinmyfaction…butyouinsistedonremainingneutral.Ican’tallowawildcardlikeyoutoroamfree.”Asherletoutaweak,breathlesschuckle,thesoundtingedwithmockery.“Idon’tthink…that’sthewholetruth,Princess.”Forabriefmoment,hergazesharpened.“…You’reright.Thereisanotherreason.”“Andwhatisthat?”heasked,hisvoicetremblingbuthiseyessteady.Herlipscurledeversoslightly.“You’reapatheticfool.Someonewithenoughtalenttograsppower…yetnodesireforrevenge.”“Revenge?”Ashermurmured,asiftastingtheword.“Forwhat?Mymother’sdeath?Andagainstwhom?”“Againstthedemonswhocausedit.”Alow,brokenlaughescapedhislips.“Haha…Princess,don’tjoke.”Hisbloodstainedfingerstwitchedagainstthefloor.“Webothknowthetruth.Theonesresponsibleformymother’sdeatharetheImperialFamily…andtheChurch.Theyfearedmyfamily’sgrowinginfluence.”Herexpressionremainedunchanged.“Andyet,itwasdemonswhostruckthefinalblow.Youfeelnohatred—nottowardthem,nottowardtheChurch.Shouldn’ttheybeyourenemies?”Asherslowlyturnedhishead,hispaleeyesmeetinghers.“No,Princess…Idon’thaveenemies.”Afaintsmileappearedonhislipsdespitehiscondition.“Ionlyhaveobstacles.Anditseems…yourfamilyandtheChurcharebecomingjustthat.”Asubtleshiftpassedthroughtheair.“Sowhatareyougoingtodo?”sheaskedcoldly.“Destroyus?”“Ofcourse,”hewhispered,asifstatingsomethingobvious.“It’llbeahassle…butIthinkitmightalsobefun.”Hereyesnarrowedslightly.“Andhowexactlydoyouplantodothat?Byhauntingusasaghost?”Hissmilewidened—strangelycalm,almostamused.“You’llfindoutsoonenough.”OneofthefourPlatinumRankknightsstandingbesidethePrincesssteppedforward.“Princess,wedon’thavetime.Wemustfinishthisnow.”Shegaveasmallnod,hervoicedevoidofemotion.“Doit.Icannolongertoleratehispatheticexistence.”Withouthesitation,theknightraisedhisblade.Asingle,cleanstrike.Asher’sheadfell,hisexpressionfrozeninthatsameunsettlingsmile—asthoughhehadjustdiscoveredanewgametoplay.“Disposeofthebody,”thePrincesssaid,turningaway.“I’mgoingtosleep.”Withthat,spacedistortedaroundher,andshevanished.TheNextDayClassS—MainClassroomMorningsunlightfilteredthroughthetallwindows,illuminatingthequietmurmursofelitestudentsgatheredinside“Goodmorning,Princess.”Thevoicewaslight.Casual.Familiar.Herbodystiffenedalmostimperceptibly.Standingneartheentrance,perfectlyalive,wasAsher.Smiling.Notasingletraceofinjurymarkedhisbody.Forthefirsttime,aflickerofdisbeliefcrossedherotherwisecomposedmind.Impossible…I’mcertaintheoneIkilledyesterdaywashisrealbody.Notaclone.Notanillusion.Thenwhat…isthis?Ashertiltedhisheadslightly,hissilverhaircatchingthelightashissmiledeepened.“So,Princess…”Hiseyesgleamedwithsomethingdangerous—somethingplayful.“Ourgamebeginstoday.”