Became the Villainess’s Guardian

Philip was not particularly conscientious.
And what was there to hide, he was somewhat aware of it himself.

To make it as a businessman in Londinium, one had to discard compassion and sympathy, lest others devour you.
Having acquired a cheat key through sheer chance, he thought it was only a matter of time before he became a first-rate entrepreneur.

His accounts and achievements did not lie. Philip was confident that while the path he trod might not be morally upright, it led to success.

However, the seemingly solid path of his life crumbled in an instant.

“Philip, is that you?”

“Embezzlement, bribery, illegal asset accumulation, and unreported taxes.”

“While there are more items on this list, it would be cumbersome to list them all, so I shall arrest you on the following charges.”

Apprehended by Chief Inspector Baldur, he was thrown into a chilly underground cell.
After a trial that raced by like beans popping in a fire, he was assigned a solitary prison cell.

He had been cast into a place he never thought he would set foot in.
Moreover, everything he had devoted his life to building ended up in the trash, causing his stress to soar through the roof.

In such a situation, his prison cellmate was perhaps his sole solace.

“Don’t you want revenge?”

“Of course. Against Chief Inspector Baldur, those who reported me, and even the judge!”

“Yes, that’s the spirit.”

While his reason acknowledged that his life had already hit rock bottom, his emotion cried out for vengeance.

And his cellmate knew just how to scratch that itch.
By echoing his sentiments, formulating concrete revenge plans, and offering sincere counseling to soothe his battered psyche.

Emboldened by his words, Philip decided to seek revenge, armed with the gun his cellmate had provided.
His life was already ruined, so what harm could come from taking a companion along?

And yet.

‘How did I even get out of prison?’

His head was spinning.
It felt like he was missing something.

Philip had the minor flaw of turning into a beast when drunk, but in other situations, he maintained a certain situational awareness.

Revenge or not, the moment he attacked an active police officer, he realized there was a lower depth to the bottom he had already hit in life.
And that harming civilians unrelated to his revenge would be akin to digging his own grave.

It felt strange, as if his body was not his own to control.
The floating, intoxicated sensation robbed him of any sense of reality. While he had never resorted to drugs throughout his life-ruining endeavors, he wondered if this was what being high felt like.

‘No, more importantly.’

He had been assigned a solitary cell, so why did he have a cellmate?

His thoughts were not coherent.

And by the time he became aware of this, Philip had already pulled the trigger a couple more times.
At a teal-haired girl nearby who had nothing to do with his revenge.

He did not even know why that particular girl among the bystanders.

A gunshot rang out.
There was no pain, but he felt a warm, acrid-smelling liquid splash his face.

Lightly brushing it with his fingers, they came away slightly stained with blood.

Edan took a couple of steps back. It was only then that Freugne realized where that blood had gushed from.

“Mr. Edan!”

“Freugne, get behind me!”

Edan pulled her back with his uninjured arm. Following his rough motion, Freugne’s head whipped around, and at the edge of her vision was Baldur, who had been shot first.

“Ugh, urgh.”

“Chief Inspector! Are you alright?”

“Ugh, yeah. My life… is still clinging on…”

Baldur was clutching his arm on the ground, groaning.
Blood was flowing, he seemed to be in tremendous pain, and he had temporarily been incapacitated, but at least he was alive.

Considering the close range, that wretched aim would have been more impressive had he merely grazed Edan from a distance.

However, the man did not seem inclined to surrender here.
Paying no heed to his surroundings, he began striding directly towards Edan and Freugne.

Freugne quickly scanned their vicinity. Since they had been walking in the middle of the street moments ago, there were no geographical features or obstacles to utilize.

No, perhaps not obstacles, but Edan had taken on that role himself.

He stood directly between the gun barrel and her, raising his uninjured arm.

While not blooming into the elaborate, trailing display of magic he had once shown, it nonetheless extended from his hand, illuminating the night street as if he too held a gun.

“Ah-”

Bang!

And then.
Edan stepped back once more before crouching down.
The spot where he sat was soaked in far more blood than before.

First, let us establish one fact.
I did not intentionally take the bullet for Freugne’s sake.s simply lack the reflexes to evade bullets faster than sound.
Of course, presidential candidates might be able to dodge an assassin’s bullet by a paper’s breadth without even looking, but unfortunately, I have yet to reach such profound heights.

Being a mage does not magically enhance one’s physical abilities or peripheral vision. A sad reality.

Bang!

“What was that sou-”

So by the time I turned my head at the first gunshot, the second bullet had already arrived.

Bang!

“Ughh…!”

Straight to my arm, no less.

Before I could comprehend the situation, a piercing pain erupted in my shoulder area.
While not exactly familiar, I at least managed to avoid collapsing and shrieking hideously, having experienced similar sensations during my research from time to time.

The snacks I had been cradling in my arms spilled messily onto the ground, and a scream erupted from behind.

“Mr. Edan!”

“Freugne, get behind me!”

“Why, why am I here…”

The man muttered incomprehensible words as he regripped the trigger with his finger.

While I did not know why this madman was here or had set his sights on Freugne and me as his next targets, the fact that his gun barrel remained trained on us made it clear he did not intend to end it here.

Should I evade first and then think?
No, that might put Freugne at risk instead. And if there was a danger of injury, it was better for me, with my faster recovery, to bear it.

“…Tch.”

Retaliating immediately with magic was slightly difficult.
Had I trained my entire life in preparation for this very moment, perhaps not, but all magic fundamentally involved some degree of delay.

The time required to channel mana, calculate the appropriate ritual in one’s mind, and manifest it was far longer than simply pulling a trigger.
If I had fully committed to the military mage tech tree, perhaps, but pitting a research mage like myself, who had been cooped up in a lab and penalized for allowing such a surprise attack, against a gun was simply unfair.

However, even if my mind had already judged it impossible, it was still worth attempting.
I raised my uninjured hand. Merely disarming him would suffice, so I did not necessarily need a powerful attack.

“Ah, it’s all over now. Because of some stranger I don’t even know, everything is-”

The man’s muttering bought me a little more time.
A thin wisp of flame flickered at the tip of my hand, having completed the mental calculations. With no time for aiming, I simply fired it straight ahead.

“Get lost!”

Crackle!!

Bang!

Simultaneously, I seemed to catch a glimpse of his brown eyes turning slightly reddish.
A familiar sight, but there was no time to dwell on it further. The gunshot echoed belatedly.

It is said that people often remain silent when in pain.
Like how they might screech when their back is struck, but only let out a deflated whoosh when their little toe collides with a door frame at full force.

I had once wondered if the same applied to gunshot wounds, and I was now conclusively verifying that theory.

It was a different kind of agony from losing a finger or a wrist.
A sensation of emptiness filling the void where something should have been.

Glancing down, there was a deep gunshot wound in my chest. From the location, it had likely grazed my heart.
Even through my black suit, the blood-soaked state was evident. Removing a layer of clothing would undoubtedly reveal an even more gruesome sight.

Healing had been the near-omnipotent power that had sustained my career thus far, but it surely had its limits.

What would happen if I sustained damage beyond a certain level? In other words, a lethal attack. How would critical hits and vital areas be judged?
Putting it crudely, what if my head was blown off? Or if not that, would I recover if someone force-fed me while in a vegetative state?

Perhaps questioning such game mechanics had no meaning in a reality that had become a game itself.

And what would happen if I died?
Would I retain my memories and enter a third life, return to my original world, or simply respawn? It was a problem I could not know without directly experiencing it.

While I had formulated various hypotheses, would I have been insane enough to gamble my entire life for the sake of verifying them directly?

Yet by some twisted fate, it seemed I would have the unwanted opportunity to test it out on this occasion.

“Ugh…”

“Mr… Edan… help…”

Would Freugne have no choice but to discreetly feed me something delicious?
Or perhaps I would simply die. I should go and confirm soon.

No matter what was said about the downfall of humanity or whatnot, human affairs were truly unpredictable.

I slightly raised my drooping eyelids to check on the madman.
Seeing the wisps of steam rising from him, I could at least be relieved for the time being.
And with Freugne’s tear-stained face as the last thing I saw-