I Am The Game's Villain



Stepping onto the Olphean territory, a sense of nervousness tingled within me. Over twelve years had slipped by since I last set foot here.

Well, maybe less for Mother, considering she frequently journeyed to Celesta to care for Elona and me. But my elder sister, she had been absent from my life for all those years.

Coming to terms with my older brother's death, after regaining all our shared memories, was an arduous feat. The confines of that dark, oppressive cell where I had been imprisoned were stifling. Yet, I endured.

Cleenah's support and Nevia's teachings sustained me through the ordeal.

Naturally, I couldn't allow Annabelle, Orlin, and Tihana to be ensnared in the same plight as me. I would never subject them to the consequences of my actions.

Annabelle was the only one who accompanied me. I could have taken Orlin and Tihana, but they were still too young, and I questioned my ability to care for them properly. I yearned for them to have the best, and that's why I entrusted Tihana to Aunt Belle and Orlin to Brida Teraquin. Gladys' decision to join Ante-Eden was hard to fathom, but I refrained from rash judgments immaturely about her. My knowledge about her and the events on Earth was still incomplete. Regardless, Orlin found his new home with Brida, not just because she was Kleah's sister, but also to provide her with companionship, and for Orlin's personal growth.

Parting with Tihana was even more challenging, given her strong attachment to me. Eventually, she relented, agreeing to be apart for a year. She chose to stay with Aunt Belle, who shared a kindred connection with me, akin to what she felt in my presence.

As for Annabelle, I couldn't bear to leave her behind. I needed her by my side for myself. She was with me for too long and she had become really mature after Mary left us so it was fine.

"The Garden doesn't appear to have changed much," I murmured, my gaze sweeping over the vibrant scene around me. Tulips of every color adorned the garden, a testament to Mother and Christina's affection for these flowers.

"Pardon me?"

My stroll down the garden path was interrupted by a voice from behind. I turned and encountered the sight of a graceful middle-aged woman in a maid's uniform, her watering can slipping from her grasp as our eyes met.

I vaguely recognized her – Helga, the Head Maid of the mansion. Though time had aged her somewhat, she hadn't transformed beyond recognition. During my childhood, she was instrumental in looking after Christina, and to a lesser extent, me.

"Young Lord…" Her voice quavered as tears moistened her eyes, her embrace wrapping around me.

"How have you been, Helga?" I managed a smile, despite the slight awkwardness.

"You..." Helga's voice wavered, her hand gently patting my cheek. "You've grown into a remarkable young man, Young Lord."

"Naturally," I responded, my charm seemingly scaling new heights.

[<Are you indulging in vanity again?>]

'Just stating the facts.'

[<You're getting more aware, though I'm not sure if that's entirely a good thing.>]

Before our conversation could proceed, Helga's soft laughter filled the air.

"Who?"

"Don't tell me…"

"Who could that be?"

One by one, maids and butlers arrived, curiosity evident in their expressions. The seasoned ones seemed to recognize me, their astonishment palpable, while the younger staff regarded me with intrigue.

"Shall we head inside, Young Lord?" Helga took hold of my arm, guiding me toward the mansion's elegant façade.

In due course, everyone would discern my true identity. Although officially acknowledged as Aunt Oryanna's son, those with a keen eye would soon recognize the reality. Yet, I believed the process wouldn't be straightforward. My supposed demise had circulated widely, and Aunt Oryanna's having a son named Edward was common knowledge.

Enemies might find themselves bewildered by this information, but for me, it translated to a valuable reprieve.

Upon stepping within the mansion, a familiar, nostalgic aroma swept over me.

It felt like decades since the last time I stepped into my House…

As I walked past the working maids, they cast curious glances in my direction, their cheeks reddening when our eyes met. Their bashful reactions weren't entirely unexpected.

"Y-You... Lady Melfina informed us of her visit, but she didn't mention..." Helga's voice trembled as she wiped her tears. "These past weeks have been so difficult for your mother and sister. Young Lord Connor... he's no longer with us."

"I'm aware, Helga," I replied softly.

With a nod, Helga continued, her tears flowing freely. "Since Young Lord Connor's passing, the mansion has been veiled in gloom. Lady Lydia seldom comes here, and your sister barely eats. I heard Lady Lydia tried to reach out to you, but your Falkrona House grandfather denied her."

"Grandfather?"

"Yes," Helga affirmed. "Lady Lydia was incensed by his refusal."

So, my grandfather refused my mother's request to meet me. Could it be he's genuinely concerned about my safety?

It's hard to fathom.

"Is Mother and Christina here?" I inquired.

"Miss Christina is in her room, and... Mrs. Lydia left this morning without disclosing her whereabouts," Helga replied somberly.

"I'll check on my sister. Could you prepare something to eat for Christina and me? I have a craving for fried pota—"

"Fried potatoes and meatballs, as usual?" Helga interrupted, a fond smile on her lips.

Grinning in return, I appreciated her memory. "Exactly."

Climbing the long staircase, I reached Christina's room, situated as it was before. I knocked on her white door adorned with tulip-themed decorations.

"..."

No response.

Knocking again yielded the same silence.

I grasped the doorknob, ready to turn it—

"What is it now, Helga? I've already told you I'm not hungry!" Christina's matured voice resonated from within.

"I'm not Helga, though."

Footsteps neared the door. "What?! How dare you intrude into my—"

Christina flung the door open, her amber eyes flashing as they locked onto me. Just as my memories portrayed, she had matured into a beautiful young woman, as expected of my sister.

"..." Her gaze froze, her lips parting in surprise.

"Well..." I ran my hand through my black hair. "My hair's different, but I thought you might—"

Before I could finish, Christina enveloped me in a tight hug. Despite the height difference, her face nestled against my shoulder, her tears dampening my shirt.

"I'm back, Sister," I murmured, gently patting her back.

Christina trembled, lifting her teary eyes to meet mine. "A-Amael... little brother..."

"Big sister?" I offered an awkward smile.

Her eyes widened before she grinned widely and embraced me once more.

Well, now it has been five minutes.

"My big sister, crying on her little brother's shoulder—ouch!"

"Shut up!" Christina pinched my shoulder before ruffling my hair. "You've grown so much... taller than me now..."

"Yes, but I'm famished. Let's eat first."

"Wait, I'm hungry too. I'll join you," Christina replied.

"But you just said you weren't," I said, raising an eyebrow.

"You talk too much, little brother." She gave my arm a playful tug.

As we strolled, I observed the color returning to Christina's pale complexion. She gripped my arm, as if afraid I might vanish.

"Thank you... thank you for being here, little brother..." She whispered softly.