The Devil is the Villainess

Rezef's expression twisted into a mask of fury as he crouched down, seizing Medea's chin with a vice-like grip, forcing her to meet his intense gaze. "Why did you do that?" His voice crackled with restrained anger, echoing off the walls of the dimly lit chamber.
Medea's laughter rang out in a chilling crescendo, reverberating with madness as she met his glare with a manic smirk. "Isn't it obvious?" she taunted, her words dripping with venom. "I despised her. I wanted her to suffer, to perish!"
The crack of Rezef's slap sliced through the air, the sound resonating with the force of his rage. He yanked Medea's hair roughly, wrenching her head back to meet his eyes once more. "I gave you a directive, a pact to uphold," he seethed, his voice laced with disdain. "Yet you chose to act independently, driven by your wretched desires. Are you truly so pitiful, Medea? Had you adhered to our agreement, we could have executed our scheme flawlessly, tearing them apart as intended!"
Medea's laughter twisted into a snarl of defiance as she seized Rezef's collar, her fingers trembling with fury. "Did you truly expect me to heed your commands?" she spat, her voice laced with contempt. "Who do you think you are to dictate my actions? None of this would have transpired if you hadn't ensnared me in your web of deceit. You could have played the hero, saving her from peril and securing our mutual gain. Do not feign innocence in this, for you anticipated this outcome just as much as I did."
A flash of hatred flickered in Rezef's eyes, a cold glint of disdain piercing through his steely facade. With a swift, merciless shove, he sent Medea crashing to the ground, eliciting a pained gasp from her lips. 
His gaze turned to his silent subordinates, a silent command passing between them like a shadow in the night. "Inflict upon her the depths of suffering until she surrenders her last breath," he ordered, his voice devoid of mercy or remorse.
Pride, Greed, Hypocrisy, and Foolishness of humans... extend beyond more than I expected.
Medea observed Rezef's frenzied reaction with a mixture of disdain and indifference, her crimson gaze cutting through the tumultuous emotions swirling around her. The spectacle of human frailty unfolded before her, each gesture steeped in desperation and longing—a spectacle she found increasingly tiresome.
With a resigned sigh, Medea's expression betrayed her profound boredom, a testament to the monotony of human drama that unfolded with predictable regularity. Love and power—such transient desires—seemed to be the driving forces behind their futile struggles, a spectacle that left her feeling utterly disenchanted.
As Rezef's anguish reached a crescendo, Medea's patience wore thin, her resolve hardening with each passing moment. With a measured tone, she addressed the prince, her arms folded in a gesture of detached indifference. "I have a plan," she declared, her voice cutting through the chaos with quiet authority. "Rest assured, your beloved is not a part of it."
Turning away, Medea fixed her gaze on the door, her expression inscrutable as she contemplated the unfolding drama with a sense of detached amusement. "However," she continued, her words laced with a veiled threat, "you may find yourself playing a pivotal role."
Before Rezef could formulate a response, Medea vanished from his sight, leaving behind a lingering sense of uncertainty in her wake. As the echoes of her departure faded into the ether, Rezef found himself grappling with the weight of her cryptic words, a harbinger of the tumultuous events yet to unfold.
This novel's plot is stupid. Everyone is stupid. It's tiring.
Medea found herself in the once-familiar halls of the obsidian tower, only to discover a transformed landscape. The tower, once shrouded in darkness, now basked in the glow of countless lights, presenting a more inviting and less foreboding facade.
As she wandered through the illuminated corridors, the distant murmur of voices caught her attention. Intrigued, she stealthily approached a partially open door, concealing herself to eavesdrop on the conversation within.
"I feel invigorated! To think that I'll have the opportunity to study under the esteemed magician of this tower, Sir Caelus!" exclaimed one of the youthful voices, brimming with excitement.
Echoes of agreement resonated among the group, each voice brimming with eager anticipation for the journey ahead. Their aspirations to contribute to Sir Caelus's legacy and to cultivate their prowess as magicians painted a vibrant tapestry of ambition and hope.
Medea's brows furrowed in intrigue as she absorbed the snippets of conversation, pondering the implications of Caelus's newfound endeavor. "So, Cael has decided to establish an academy? Is this his strategy to revitalize the tower?" she mused aloud, grappling with the implications of his initiative.
Just as she turned to depart, a sudden presence arrested her attention, causing her to startle with surprise. Standing before her, framed by the ambient light filtering through the windows, was Caelus himself. He appeared transformed, donning a pair of spectacles that accentuated his piercing purple eyes. His silver locks were elegantly tied in a low ponytail, and he wore a resplendent magician's robe adorned with an amethyst crest, a symbol of his newfound authority. In his grasp, he held a book, its pages brimming with untold knowledge.
Caught off guard by his unexpected appearance, Medea met his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. "What brings you to this place?" he inquired, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity.
Medea, attempting to deflect attention, averted her gaze from Caelus's scrutinizing eyes. Her nonchalant declaration, "I just happened to pass by," was met with a furrowed brow from Caelus, who seemed to have caught on to something more.
Caelus's perceptive gaze lowered to Medea's neck, where an unnoticed bruise lingered. He observed it keenly, a silent testament to his acute awareness of even the subtlest details. Meanwhile, Medea, unaware of his scrutiny, continued her attempted diversion, "Actually, I decided to come here because I want to—"
Her words were abruptly halted as Caelus's touch against her skin interrupted her. His hand rested on the bruised area of her neck, prompting a surprised look from Medea. She hadn't anticipated his gesture and questioned, "What are you doing?"
With a measured calmness, he addressed the anomaly, his touch sending a shiver down Medea's spine and it was strange. 
"I thought you possessed the ability to heal yourself," Caelus remarked, his tone betraying a subdued curiosity. "Why, then, do I find evidence of injury upon your skin?"
Caught off guard by his unexpected intervention, Medea's surprise gave way to a palpable tension as Caelus's magic surged through her, a cool wave of energy soothing the ache beneath her skin. She met his gaze, a flicker of defiance dancing in her eyes, as he withdrew his hand, his inquiry hanging in the air like an unspoken accusation. "Someone did this, right?"
Caught off guard, Medea took a step back, creating distance between them. She took a deep breath, attempting to regain composure, and retorted, "It's none of your business." The air in the room seemed to thicken with unspoken tension, as both figures grappled with the aftermath of the unexpected revelation and the unspoken connections that bound them.
The air hung heavy with the weight of unspoken truths as Caelus's probing questions pierced the veil of Medea's nonchalant demeanor. His persistent inquiry, though met with dismissive rebuttals, lingered in the air like a persistent echo, refusing to be silenced.
"Shouldn't you shield yourself from the harm inflicted by others? Aren't Devils meant to assert their dominance, rather than succumb to human whims?" Caelus's words, though delivered with a calm resolve, bore the weight of undeniable curiosity. He peered at Medea with a piercing gaze, his scrutiny unyielding even in the face of her casual dismissal.
Medea, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, grappled with the complexities of human emotion that eluded her understanding. His unwavering scrutiny unsettled her, prompting a momentary flicker of uncertainty to shadow her stoic facade. She couldn't decipher the enigmatic depths of his gaze, nor discern the true intent that lay concealed behind his probing questions.
"I didn't anticipate this," Medea confessed, her tone tinged with a hint of frustration. Her attempts to deflect Caelus's inquiry proved futile against the relentless persistence of his questioning. She found herself ensnared in a web of uncertainty, grappling with emotions that eluded her grasp.
And I don't understand why you were acting like this.
As she attempted to unravel the enigma of human emotions, Medea confronted the unsettling reality of her limitations. Despite her centuries of existence, the complexities of human sentiment remained a foreign terrain, fraught with contradictions and uncertainties.
The tension in the air crackled as Medea's words hung between them, poised on the brink of confrontation. Yet, before she could retreat into the shadows, the voices from the nearby room surged, drawing nearer with each passing moment. As the clamor grew louder, Medea's instinct urged her to flee, to conceal herself from prying eyes. But as she moved to slip past Caelus, his hand closed around hers, halting her in her tracks.
The unexpected touch startled Medea, arresting her motion and drawing her attention back to Caelus. She regarded him with a mixture of irritation and bewilderment, her gaze searching his face for any sign of intent. Caelus, his demeanor unwavering, whispered a single word, "Stay."
The command hung in the air, its weight pressing upon Medea as she struggled to comprehend its significance. "What?" she countered, her voice edged with disbelief. Yet Caelus remained resolute, his tone calm and measured as he reiterated his request. "I won't ask questions anymore. So, stay."
Perplexed, Medea found herself at a crossroads, uncertain how to respond to this unexpected plea. As she stood still, hand in Caelus's grip, her mind churned with conflicting thoughts. Why should she heed the words of someone who had manipulated her so thoroughly just the day before? Wasn't rejecting him the natural course of action after the revelation of his machinations?
Attempting to extricate her hand, Medea found herself met with Caelus's unyielding grip. He tightened his hold, silently urging her compliance. With a resigned sigh, she allowed herself to be pulled along, stumbling slightly as they navigated through the newly assembled students.
"It's Sir Caelus! and he's with..."
They all take a look at Medea and widen their eyes in awe, "He's with his lover!"
After extricating herself from the student's mistaken grip, Medea's resolve solidified, fueled by the indignation sparked by the baseless accusation of her supposed romantic involvement with Caelus. As the students stood bewildered, Caelus's serene smile belied the tension that simmered beneath the surface.
With a calm demeanor, Caelus addressed the stupefied students, his words a balm to their rattled nerves. "Continue your studies. Another examination awaits," he announced, his voice carrying an air of authority that left the students reeling in shock.
The students, still reeling from the unexpected encounter, watched in stunned silence as Caelus and Medea strode away, their bewilderment palpable in the air.
Medea's inquiry pierced the air, laden with a mixture of incredulity and confusion. "Where exactly are we headed, Cael?" she questioned, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to align in her mind. Caelus, his gaze fixed ahead, responded with a terse clarity. "To my quarters," he replied, his tone betraying little emotion.
The weight of his words settled upon Medea like a heavy shroud, igniting a flurry of conflicting thoughts within her mind. To his quarters? The implications of such a gesture set her thoughts ablaze, her mind racing with a torrent of unspoken questions and apprehensions.
A flicker of disbelief danced across Medea's features as she struggled to comprehend the gravity of their destination. What awaited her behind those closed doors? Her imagination ran wild, conjuring scenarios both tantalizing and unsettling, each one more provocative than the last.
As they continued along the dimly lit corridor, Medea's thoughts veered into dangerous territory, her mind alight with possibilities both thrilling and terrifying.
Her unease mounting, Medea voiced her uncertainty, her words laced with a hesitant tremor. "What... What are we going to do there?" she stammered, the question hanging heavy in the charged atmosphere between them." The sudden shift in her demeanor did not escape Caelus's notice, prompting him to halt in his tracks and turn toward her with a discerning gaze.
The air crackled with unspoken tension as Caelus confronted Medea's unspoken thoughts, his words laden with a subtle undercurrent of uncertainty. "Were you perhaps entertaining thoughts of a different nature?" he queried, his tone tinged with a hint of apprehension.
Medea's frustration bubbled over, her voice tinged with irritation. "My mind would wander to other possibilities when you're being so cryptic!" she retorted, her annoyance palpable in the air between them.
Caelus, his expression a mask of stoic disbelief, regarded her with a level gaze. After a moment of silence, he clarified, his tone reflecting a hint of patience, "I intend to have a private conversation with you, about matters that cannot be discussed in the open."
Now, Lycoris, you're acting like one of those humans you met!