Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death-Chapter 62: His Smile

***

{Outside The Projection}

The hall, still buzzing from the Path Optimization bombshell, was finally starting to chill.

Most of the Magi were either muttering among themselves or had their faces stuck somewhere between disbelief and grudging admiration.

"Alright, fine."

Noor groaned, rubbing her temples like she was fighting off a migraine.

"Maybe the Sultan’s a fuckin’ prodigy. Whatever. Can we all agree we’ve wasted enough brainpower freaking out over this?"

Her pride was clearly taking a massive hit.

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She’d always thought she had him beat in this department—easily.

Especially after finding out about his whole Return By Death thing.

She’d chalked up his success to him abusing the Hell out of that "cheat."

Because come on, how could someone with infinite retries not just brute-force their way to the top?

But here he was, making her precious system—the one that practically handed her all the theoretical knowledge on a silver platter—look like a child’s toy.

The nerve.

"That’s one way to put it."

Zafar snorted, crossing his arms.

"But yeah, whatever. I’m done. Let’s just move on before I blow a fuse."

Azeem chuckled, finally looking like he could breathe after the mess that just unfolded.

"Glad to see we’ve come to terms with the idea that a ’clueless Sultan’ just redefined what a Magi should be. Nothing humbling about that at all~."

His sarcasm was thick enough to cut with a knife, and Noor shot him a glare that promised death if he didn’t shut up, her dark eyes screaming the words, "Say one more word, I dare you."

Roya, who’d been quiet for most of the argument, opened her mouth, about to add something...

[My Lady.]

But then—she froze.

Mid-breath.

Mid-sentence.

Her eyes darted around for a split second and landed on a hooded figure in the crowd.

[The one you assigned to attempt the Sultan’s timing combination during core absorption...]

The figure’s telepathic voice paused for a moment, seemingly still in disbelief.

[He just succeeded... The results are incredible.]

Roya’s stomach flipped.

’No way.’

For a fraction of a second, her calm exterior cracked, her eyes widening slightly before she slammed her mental walls back into place.

[...Share this with the rest and begin buying cores en masse. Just don’t make it obvious.]

[Understood!]

Straightening up, she fought to keep her composure, her mind racing.

’That kid actually pulled it off?’

’Just some nobody on death’s row?’

’Was it that easy?’

The implications were staggering.

’...Should I tell them? Or keep it under wraps?’

Her gaze darted over the hall, lingering on Azeem and Noor—the ones who had pushed her to run the test in the first place.

’No. They’ll find out eventually, and when they do, they’ll declare war on my monopoly. Can’t have that. Besides, it’s better to stay ahead of the storm.’

Taking a deep breath, she spoke, her voice cutting through the lingering murmurs:

"Azeem. Noor."

Both turned to her, eyebrows raised.

"You wanted proof, right?"

Her lips curled into a sharp smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Well, congratulations. My camp just confirmed it. Someone successfully replicated Malik’s timing during his core absorption—and it works."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

For a second, there was absolute silence.

Then—

"WHAT?!"

Noor practically roared, her throne wobbling as she bolted upright.

"Are you kidding me?!"

Zafar’s jaw dropped so hard it looked like it might hit the floor.

"...I thought so."

Azeem, who she expected to be most surprised, appeared to be expecting such news.

The rest though? Not so much.

"Get to the market!"

"Buy an Aether Core now!"

"Out of the way!"

"Move it, move it!"

"We’re not getting left behind on this!"

They erupted once more, and it wasn’t just yelling this time around.

Half the Magi in the hall scrambled for the exits, practically tripping over each other in their haste to leave.

"You heard her! Go! Get as many cores as you can carry and start testing this immediately!"

Azeem joined the chaos, barking orders at his camp while still sitting on the ground.

"Why are you still sitting here?! GO!"

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Noor was no better, snapping at her subordinates.

Zafar’s yes-men, meanwhile, were already halfway out the door, shouting over each other.

"I’m not waiting around for you idiots!"

"First one to confirm it gets free drinks for a week!"

"You think I’ll risk my life for fucking drinks?!"

In less than ten minutes, the massive hall was nearly empty, save for a thousand or so Magi who either didn’t have the resources to act or were too stubborn to follow the crowd.

Though a rare few of those were also more interested in the projection before them than a quick powerup.

"Well, that escalated quickly..."

Layla had a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"You realize you just caused a stampede, right?"

Roya, still perfectly composed, gestured to the now-spacious room.

"That’s why I told them."

Layla’s smile widened.

"Fair enough."

***

{Inside The Projection}

A fire crackled softly in the quiet night, the only sound breaking the stillness of a flat plain.

Malik sat cross-legged, watching the flames dance as Safira and Jasmine slept soundly on either side of him, both their heads laid on his lap.

He watched them for a moment, his gaze soft, before it shifted to the side.

There, just outside the glow of the fire, sat a boy.

Small, maybe just a year younger than Safira, with messy crimson hair and an expression he had memorized.

One that would’ve lit up his darkest days.

’...Sinbad.’

Malik blinked, his chest tightening.

It was his little brother.

The same one he buried not too long ago.

For a while, Malik didn’t say anything.

He just stared, his throat becoming dry.

The firelight flickered over the boy’s face, making him look... real.

Like he’d always been there.

It was weird.

"...Do you like them?"

Malik finally asked, his voice low and careful, like he might scare him off.

"..."

There was no answer.

Of course, there wasn’t.

He knew this wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be.

Sinbad was gone, buried in the cold earth.

This was an illusion, a trick of his mind.

But still, he couldn’t stop himself.

"They remind me of you."

His voice was as delicate as could be.

"Safira’s all fire and energy—kinda like you can be sometimes. Jasmine, though... well, she’s not as much of a stuttering mess as you, but hey, she’s getting there~."

His lips quirked into a sad smile.

"It’s like... I’m seeing bits of you in them."

"..."

"It makes me miss you so much... you don’t understand."

"..."

"You and Huda. It’s not fair, you know?"

"..."

"You should’ve had more time. Both of you should have."

"..."

"I wish... I wish I could’ve done more for you. Been more."

He laughed lightly, though there was no joy in it, just a hollow ache.

"You’d have liked them."

Talking like this...

"Safira would’ve dragged you into all kinds of trouble, and Jasmine would’ve just rolled her eyes and cleaned up after you two."

It felt good.

Like the weight in his chest was just a little lighter.

And yet... it was never that easy, was it?

"So, they’re my replacement, huh?"

A bitter voice cut through the air.

His head snapped toward Sinbad, his heart skipping a beat.

The boy’s face wasn’t soft anymore.

His features twisted into something unrecognizable, demonic.

His bright crimson hair darkened to blood red, his grin curling into something cruel.

His pink eyes began to bleed, and his neck was cut, flowing down blood like a waterfall.

"No!"

Malik stood, sending both Jasmine and Safira away, their heads hitting the dirt.

His hand reached out as if he could grab him, hold him, fix whatever this was.

"No one could replace you! No one!"

But the illusion didn’t care.

It didn’t listen.

It existed to torment him.

Sinbad’s figure dissolved into the shadows, melting away before his outstretched hand.

And then he was gone.

Malik stood there, frozen, his arm still reaching for nothing.

His chest heaved, and for a moment, he thought he might let the tears fall.

But none did.

They weren’t even there.

"Hah..."

Slowly, he let his hand drop.

His gaze shifted back to the fire and then to the two small forms that somehow didn’t wake up.

Safira and Jasmine.

They were just kids.

Kids who’d gotten stuck with him.

Kids who must be his responsibility, nothing more.

"I... I have no right to enjoy my time with them."

His voice was barely audible, but it was heard louder than anything else.

And with that, he sank back down, staring at the flames until sleep claimed him.