I Enrolled as the Villain

"The strong are always kind."

When Jessa said it, the silence didn't feel awkward.

It felt final.

Like the end of a sentence I hadn't realized I'd been writing.

The strong are always kind…

I wanted to laugh.

To scoff.

To say it wasn't true.

But the words stuck.

I stared at the floor, and slowly… I remembered.

I remember what I said to Lucia.

"Evelyne doesn't crush."

"She listens. She heals. And when the time comes… she'll bloom into something this House hasn't seen in generations."

She had every reason to hate me.

To take my place and humiliate me with it.

But she didn't.

She carried the heirship quietly.

Gracefully.

With a strength that didn't roar, but endured.

Then Arthur.

A boy who was once bitter — cynical, cold.

But with every step, every fight, he began to change.

He still looked angry sometimes.

Still carried darkness in his voice.

But his kindness started showing — not because he became soft,

but because he stopped fighting alone.

I saw it.

The way he offered Evelyne his hand through prison bars.

Not for recognition.

Just… to help.

No speeches.

No power.

Just a gesture.

Jessa's words echoed again.

The strong are always kind…

Maybe real strength isn't how much you can destroy.

Maybe it's how much you can hold back — and still choose to care.

That's what Evelyne did.

That's what Arthur learned.

And maybe that's what I'm still learning now.

I turned to her — small, trembling, hands still raw.

"…Thanks, Jessa," I said quietly.

"And…"

She looked up.

"…Sorry."

Her eyes widened a little. "Why?"

I smiled faintly, the weight on my chest easing just enough to breathe.

"For not realizing it sooner."

Then I stood.

Slowly.

I walked to the training room's far cabinet. The store room slide open.

Inside, a potion of minor healing.

A bottle of water.

Basic supplies, forgotten by most.

I reached out.

And they disappeared into my hand — not with light, or sound, but with stillness.

Shrinked.

Folded down to nothing.

I turned, walked back.

Jessa looked up at me — face pale, bandages loose, exhaustion in her shoulders. But her eyes… still bright.

I stopped in front of her.

No flourish. No warning.

I opened my palm.

And the air shimmered — just faintly, like mist catching sunlight.

Then the potion appeared.

Emerald green, glowing softly, as if it had bloomed out of nowhere.

The bottle of water followed, rising like it had been waiting in some invisible space between seconds.

Jessa blinked.

"…Whoa," she breathed. "How did you—?"

"Just a trick," I said quietly.

"Nothing special."

But she stared at the potion like it was sacred. Like I had done more than summon supplies. Like I'd just proven something she hadn't dared to believe.

"Is this… Mythrigan magic?" she asked, voice barely audible.

I paused, then shook my head.

"No. This isn't the Eye."

I knelt beside her and gently placed the bottle in her hands.

"This is just care."

As i said that i left the room and walked outside

The courtyard rang with the sharp clash of swords.

Screams. Grunts. Bruised arms. Bloodied lips.

Valery students circled in drills, striking like machines — not warriors. No technique. Just pressure. Just pain.

I watched for a moment.

Then stepped forward.

Boots echoing across the stone.

Dozens of heads turned. The clash of blades slowed… then stopped.

The atmosphere shifted.

Some students stiffened. Others lowered their swords in confusion.

I walked to the center.

And raised my Syncwatch.

"Request immediate medical dispatch to the Valery training ground," I said.

My voice didn't shout. It didn't need to.

Seconds passed.

Then

A low hum.

A shimmering ring of mana appeared in the air.

From it stepped two advanced healers, clad in white with gold trims — House Valery's elite medical corps. Behind them, a third figure arrived late, panting.

Elira.

Her eyes widened when she saw the chaos. She dropped her satchel and knelt beside the nearest injured student without a word.

The medics followed suit.

And still, silence held the air.

I turned.

Faced the line of bloodied students.

Some looked shocked. Others ashamed.

"I'm not here to scold you," I said quietly.

"But I won't let this continue."

I paused, then added,

"Look at you guys..i don't need my mythrigan to see whats happening"

"Do u guys remember what i say during my speech at the bew academy

The other valery students although tired noded

This place," i began slowly,

"was originally… not in my plans."

A few polite smiles. Someone coughed.

"But when I saw what it could become… I thought it might be worth doing anyway."

I glanced back at the incomplete academy walls steel bones waiting for skin.

"This academy isn't about legacy. It's not even about strength. At least… not just strength."

I paused, then added, quieter:

"It's about not ending up like me."

That one earned a few looks.

"I don't know how to teach. Or build schools. Or give speeches. But I do know what it's like to grow up afraid of the wrong people. And I'm hoping this place makes fewer of those."

The door slid open.

Soft footsteps.

Jessa stepped inside slower than usual, but steady.

Her arms were wrapped in cloth, her steps stiff.

But she was here.

Alive. Awake.

Elira blinked and rushed to meet her. "You shouldn't be—"

"I'm fine," Jessa smiled, her voice thin.

"I just… didn't want to miss this."

I let the silence settle again before speaking.

"…There's one more thing."

Some students met it head-on eyes glowing with faint, midnight hues.

Korigan. The eye of the moon. Cold. Precise. Brilliant in its clarity.

Others sat further back.

Their eyes lacked that glow. Or flickered only dimly, hesitant.

They didn't shine as bright.

Didn't get called forward first.

Didn't get remembered as easily.

But they were here.

And they were still standing.

And sometimes…

those are the ones who carry the most.

"In my eyes… I saw a future."

The room went still.

Even the medics paused.

Even Elira stopped what she was doing.

The young Valery students turned to look at me —

not as a commander. Not as the bearer of an Eye.

But like children waiting for a story.

"The One Who Walked Away… I understand now why he left."

"Because I've seen what he saw —

across the Three Eternities of dream."

There was a faint rustle — confused glances, unsure eyes.

They all knew the myth.

They all knew the Three Eternities.

But the dream?

"He didn't leave because he was above us. He left… because he saw something the world wasn't ready to face."

"But the future I saw the one he saw it doesn't make me want to walk away."

I paused, letting the silence settle like dust on stone.

I remember reading that chapter.

Arthur the Arthur in the novel stood before the One Who Walked Away. He learned the truth.

And then… he smiled.

Not out of joy. Not out of madness.

But because the truth wasn't cruel.

It was quiet. Simple. Beautiful.

And I smiled, too.

Alone. Sitting with that book.

Because I understood.

Odd, isn't it?

A faint smile touched my lips.

"And it made me smile."

The room was utterly silent now.

"Lucia once asked me what I saw in the future.

And the truth is…"

"I see a House this House — blooming with flowers. Under a clear sky."

"That's all."

And somehow, in that moment,

even the tired ones… the broken ones…

lifted their heads a little higher.

As the words left my mouth, silence followed.

Not the kind that demanded attention—

But the kind that settled into people slowly.

Like warmth after a long storm.

One by one, the young Valery students lowered their heads.

Some glanced at their hands.

Others looked down at their worn boots.

At the scratches on their practice swords.

At nothing at all.

And then softly, quietly, barely more than a whisper

"…Sorry."

Their voices weren't sharp.

They weren't proud.

They were small. Human. Honest.

And then

As if some invisible weight had been lifted from their shoulders

They sat down.

Collapsed gently to the ground.

Not out of exhaustion.

But like people forgiving themselves

For holding on too tightly.

For trying too hard to be perfect.

They dropped their pride like a sword too heavy to keep carrying.

And in that moment—

They weren't just Valery students.

They were just kids.

And somehow, that made them stronger.