I Enrolled as the Villain

I sat at the edge of my bed, gently turning the deflated ball in my hands.

"Hm. I should play this more often," I said softly, smiling to myself.

Then I paused.

The faint reflection in the ball caught my eye.

Not my face.

My left eye.

A subtle gleam

The Mythrigan.

The so-called Eye of God.

From what I'd read in the novel… maybe it really was.

I leaned closer, watching its glow pulse back at me.

"I wonder…" I murmured.

"How do you control something like this?"

I took a breath, then closed my eyes.

The basics. Just like in the novels.

Gather mana toward my eye.

I tried to gather the mana, but it felt strange like holding water in my hands. Not solid. Not heavy. Just a soft, buzzing current under my skin.

I didn't know what I was doing. But something was there.

Waiting.

So I focused deeper, threading that buzz through my mind.

It stretched.

Grew warmer.

Easier to hold.

For the first time, I wasn't just sensing mana. I was guiding it.

Slowly, carefully like threading warmth through a narrow tunnel.

At first… nothing.

Then a pressure

Just faint pressure.

Then something shifted. A faint pulse.

My eyelid twitched. The air around me felt just a little heavier.

I opened my eye.

The room didn't look different. But it felt different. I could see the fine dust trailing through the air.

The dying warmth left behind on the doorknob.

The faintest flicker of heat still lingering where I'd sat before.

"…Is this it?" I whispered.

Then, I saw something else.

A trace barely visible etched faintly into the wall. Like a lingering memory.

Something that shouldn't be there.

A footprint. Burned faintly into the mana flow of the room.

Someone had been here.

Recently.

I stood up slowly, heart beginning to stir.

So this is what the Mythrigan sees.

Then I saw a maid step into the hallway, her aura faint but oddly familiar like a shadow I'd seen before.

She was heading toward my room.

Wait… isn't that Elina? That odd maid?

I narrowed my eyes, drawing the mana threads around her. They outlined her more clearly now, like tracing memory with instinct.

No… her name isn't Elina. It's Elira.

Why didn't she correct me back then?

A soft knock came.

Then the door opened.

Elira stepped inside, her hands folded neatly, but her voice held urgency.

"Apologies,Sir Kael. I know you must be exhausted from the… Ultimate Kael Valery Academy of Excellence and everything else," she said, the corners of her lips twitching like she couldn't help herself.

"But I can't keep this from you any longer. The Elder Council and Lady Evelyne are holding an emergency meeting in the council chamber. You weren't invited."

I blinked.

My brow twitched.

They're meeting without me?

What are they planning?

Evelyne… I know she's still bitter about my decision, but to act behind my back? No, no calm down.

Breathe.

Think.

Don't jump to shadows.

"I see," I said quietly. "Thank you, Elira."

She paused at the door.

"…You remembered," she murmured, voice softer than usual.

I looked at her, then gave the smallest nod.

Then she bowed, stepped out, and closed the door behind her

I stared at the space she left behind for a moment.

"…It's time to settle this."

They think I'll just stay quiet. That I'll let them lead.

No.

I need to remind them who still holds this name.

⸻

I walked into my wardrobe chamber a space lined with robes of all colors, status symbols for every occasion.

I chose a white one, high-collared, with thin gold embroidery and the Valery crest traced in silver. Not overly grand.

"Elira said the meeting's in the emergency chamber…"

I closed my eyes, searching Kael's old memories fragmented echoes. He rarely attended such meetings. Barely cared to.

Still, somewhere in the back of my mind, the layout of the estate flickered a hallway behind the war room… a spiral stairwell that descended into shadow…

"…There."

The West Wing. Beneath the old command floor.

The emergency chamber.

I opened my left eye the Mythrigan humming with heat beneath my skin.

Gather.

Steady.

I poured mana into the socket, slow at first, then deeper as if threading light through a tunnel. The world began to shift.

And then I saw it.

Far beneath the estate faint, ghostlike signatures. Heat trails, Movement and Voices.

The council.

And Evelyne.

"…Found you."

I pushed further.

More mana. More focus.

Like weaving a rope between myself and that room a line of vision, of presence, of force.

And when the connection locked

I wasn't in my room anymore.

My body stayed seated on my bed…

but my vision, my presence, extended across the threads of mana threading through the stone and steel of the West Wing, down into the council chamber.

The air shimmered at the high seat of the room.

A ghostly figure faded into view.

Me.

Eyes open. Robe white. Silent and watching.

Kael Valery was watching from above.

And the room fell still.

—

Earlier

Evelyne stared at the flickering hologram.

Kael's image played on loop standing tall, coat swaying, calmly shaking hands with a row of wide-eyed students. One of them, a commoner, looked like he might faint.

Evelyne scoffed.

"What does he think he's doing? Shaking hands like some benevolent prince… giving speeches like the heir again…"

Her jaw clenched.

"That role was mine. He gave it up. So why?"

She leaned forward, eyes narrowing.

"Does he think this is a game? Is there some hidden plan? Or… does he just want to make a mockery of it all?"

But her glare didn't last.

A flicker crossed her face not confusion, but something older. Something harder to name.

Memory.

She remembered the Kael from before.

The cruel one.

The boy who burned bridges and never looked back.

Who laughed while others wept.

Who took what he wanted… and called it destiny.

She hated him.

And yet she believed in him.

Not for his kindness. He had none.

Not for his honor. He buried that years ago.

But for the Eye.

The Mythrigan.

The symbol that burned through kings and carved paths through history.

He was born with it. Chosen by it.

And the Eye did not choose lightly.

Back then, she followed him not because he was right…

But because he was inevitable.

If someone had to carry the weight of that cursed sight —

It should be the one strong enough to survive it.

But now?

Now he's different.

Softer.

Speaking of regret.

Reaching for change.

And thats scared her more than anything.

Because for the first time…

He looked like someone worthy of the Eye.

And if that's true…

Then why does it hurt so much?

Then

A soft chime echoed in her vision.

[Council Notification: Emergency Session — Emergency Chamber]

Evelyne's gaze lingered on Kael's frozen face for a beat longer.

"…Tch. Let's see what they really want."

As Evelyne stepped into the emergency chamber, the heavy doors closed behind her with a faint hiss.

And at the center of the chamber lies a long obsidian table, six elders sat three on each side forming two silent fronts:

To her left: the Iridian Circle, dressed in rich silks and gilded emblems.

To her right: the Sons of the Unblinking, each clad in more subdued tones military gray. With one of them standing out wearing a robes and mask

And behind them all, elevated above the rest, the high seat where the Lord or Heir should sit remained empty.

Evelyne took her place at the center of the table.

She looked directly at the right side at the Sons of the Unblinking.

"So," she said, voice even but sharp, "what is it you truly want?"

No one answered.

She let the silence stretch for just a moment longer, then added:

"The heir has already given his consent. The transfer is in motion. Are you attempting to undermine that authority?"

Her gaze narrowed, landing specifically on General Matthias and the cardinal of the gaze Lucien

"Especially you."

Suddenly a voice answered

Azmat didn't even lean forward. He simply spoke efficiently.

"We're not questioning the heir's authority. We're questioning yours."

A flick of his gaze.

"You think approval means trust? It doesn't."

He tapped the table once deliberately.

"We don't need another show of strength. We've had enough of that with Evara."

A beat.

"And we don't need another snake behind a smile. That's Cassian."

Then his eyes fixed on Evelyne, hard as stone.

"We need someone who doesn't just speak of direction. We need someone who can walk it without leaving corpses behind."

Evelyne scoffed, voice sharp, barely holding back.

"And you think Kael is the one who can walk forward without leaving corpses behind? You speak of peace but do you even know what he's done? Stop pretending he's some competent savior!"

Suddenly, the chamber shifted. A faint rustle of robes.

Lucien the Cardinal of the Gaze stood.

His eyes burned with quiet conviction.

He raised a single hand, pointing at Evelyne not in accusation, but in unshakable belief.

"Do not speak his name with such contempt." His voice was calm almost gentle but the air in the chamber tensed around it.

"Kael Valery… is not perfect. He is not gentle. But he is chosen."

His voice rang like a bell.

Lucien took a breath. Then, softly:

"He went to the academy not for power, nor praise. But to walk among the next generation… and acknowledge them. With nothing but his presence, he gave weight to the overlooked. With a single glance, he saw through their gifts called them by name, Tier, Path."

His gaze swept the table daring anyone to argue.

"No scans. No files. Just the Eye."

"And not once… did he look down on them."

A pause. Then Lucien stepped forward.

"Tell me, Evelyne… what can your Gold Lumigan possibly see… that the Mythrigan does not already know?"

A pause.

"You see heat, and lies, and fragments of light. He sees truth. The truth of what could be not just what is."

"He shook their hands."

"He remembered their faces."

"He stood beneath the sun and spoke not of conquest but of regret."

Lucien's voice dropped, reverent.

"He said: 'This academy isn't about legacy. It's not even about strength. At least… not just strength. It's about not ending up like me.'"

He let the words hang.

"Tell me, Lady Evelyne… does that sound like a tyrant?"

Lucien looked skyward briefly, then back at her eyes fierce with faith.

"The Mythrigan does not return for nothing. The Eye sees through fate itself. Perhaps Kael's path is not conquest, but crucifixion. A chance for this house to change for once not through domination… but by bearing the unbearable."

He folded his arms once again.

"If redemption is rare… then so is the courage to accept it. Will we be the ones who turn away?"

Lucien's words left a silence that pressed harder than she expected.

Evelyne turned away before her face could betray what she felt.

Suddenly another sound step not from the right but from the left

Click.

The sound of polished nails tapping the armrest.

Adelina leaned forward, her golden earrings catching the light. The Cardinal's faith didn't sway her.

"Every rebellion,"

she said smoothly,

"has a price. And every heir we invest in… is a risk."

Her voice didn't rise it didn't need to.

"You don't gamble with the treasury, Cardinal. You calculate."

She turned her head slightly toward Evelyne, but her words remained aimed at Lucien.

"You speak of redemption as though it were a currency we can afford to spend. But what has he paid?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"A speech? A handshake? Nostalgia wrapped in symbolism?"

Then, with a dismissive scoff:

"He wants to build an academy? Then let him fund it. Not with myth. Not with sentiment. But with something real. Gold. Policy. Results."

Her eyes glinted with something colder than doubt expectation.

"House Valery's name isn't a tithe, it's a ledger. And right now, Kael Valery is in the red."

She folded her hands once more.

"Spare me your poetry, Cardinal. I run numbers. And myths don't pay salaries."

A chair scraped back.

General Matthias stood.

His voice cut through the chamber like a blade drawn in silence:

"Our army is made up entirely of Valery born."

"Each soldier. Each officer. All bear ocular gifts. And all of them…"

He glanced toward Evelyne. Then to Adelina.

"…believe in Kael Valery. Not because he's rich. Not because he's clever. Because he's Kael."

He let the name hang a symbol, not a man.

"You want policy? Fine. Gold? Fine. But you can't train belief."

He stepped forward once, firm.

"You don't manufacture a myth. You don't build a symbol. And you sure as hell don't replace one with numbers in a ledger."

His eyes narrowed.

"They follow him. Not you. Not the Circle. Him. That's the difference between leadership and legacy."

A pause.

"He may fall. He may break. But while he stands our banners hold."

Then he sat down.

No more, no less.