Villain: Your Heroines Were Delicious-Chapter 213 - 1

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of the female dormitory at Otsuki University, casting long, pale streaks across the hardwood floor.

Kirara Hiyori sat perched at her desk, the tip of her pen tracing idle, repetitive circles on the margin of her notebook.

Her chin rested heavily in the palm of her hand, her gaze unfocused as she stared at a complex formula of series and parallel circuits, nodal analysis, mesh analysis, source transformation, and Delta-Wye conversion that she hadn’t actually read in over twenty minutes.

She was utterly, hopelessly absentminded.

Her thoughts were a chaotic swirl of the upcoming final exams and the vivid, electric memories of the nights she had spent with Seijirou.

Even now, in the quiet of the morning, she could almost feel the phantom pressure of his touch and the way the world seemed to narrow down until he was the only thing that mattered.

Just then, a small, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of her lips before she caught herself and shook her head.

"Focus, Hiyori. You’re a martial artist. Discipline," she whispered to herself, though the words felt hollow.

Just then, the heavy dormitory door burst open with a resounding bang, but Hiyori didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

It was her roommates—a trio of girls who lived as though every day were a neon-soaked music video—tumbled into the room, their voices overlapping in a shrill cacophony of excitement.

"I can’t believe it! I actually can’t believe it!" the tallest one, Mika, shrieked as she threw her designer handbag onto her bed. "Yosuke-senpai actually invited us! To his private penthouse party!"

"I know! It’s insane!" Saki squealed, already pulling a variety of tight dresses from her closet. "He’s like, the most popular, most unattainable man in the entire university! Every girl in this school would kill for this invite!"

"We have to go shopping immediately," the third girl, Nana, added, checking her reflection in the full-length mirror. "We need to buy something that shows off our womanly charms. Something expensive."

Hiyori turned her gaze slowly toward them.

The three of them were dressed in the quintessential gyaru style—bleached hair, heavy makeup, and skirts that were more suggestion than garment.

She had never really gotten along with them, after all to Hiyori, who valued the purity of the Shirohara school of martial arts, they weren’t just roommates; they were a constant, irritating distraction.

In her more honest moments, she thought of them as little more than sluts.

They treated the dormitory like a revolving door, bringing different men back almost every week.

Not to mention that the walls were thin, even the lack of discretion was staggering.

More often than not, Hiyori would find herself forced to pack a small bag and spend the night in a cheap business hotel just to get enough sleep to function the next day.

There was even that one night—the night that had permanently severed any hope of a friendship where they had brought three men back while Hiyori was already asleep.

She had woken up to the sound of heavy drinking and the unmistakable, rhythmic sounds of sex just a few feet away.

And when she had indignantly tried to leave, one of the men, fueled by alcohol and arrogance, had grabbed her arm and tried to force her to stay "to join the fun."

If she had been an ordinary woman, she might have been intimidated, and she might have cried or stayed out of fear.

But Hiyori was a student of Shirohara Ichibei.

She was a practitioner of Ki, a woman whose body was a weapon forged in the fires of the legendary Shirohara training.

She hadn’t screamed; she had simply applied a precise, anatomical pressure to the man’s radius and ulna until the bone snapped with a sickening crack, and she had left him howling on the floor and hadn’t looked back.

Ever since then, a cold war had existed in the room.

They didn’t talk to her, mostly out of fear and anger, but they certainly stopped bringing men back when she was present.

"Hey, Kirara-san," Mika said, breaking the icy silence.

Hiyori turned her head slightly, her expression flat. "Yes?"

"You should come with us," Mika said, though her eyes were busy scanning her own reflection. "Yosuke-senpai specifically mentioned that he wanted ’all the girls from our room’ to come. He’s very inclusive like that."

"That’s right!" Saki chimed in, tossing a glittery top onto Hiyori’s bed. "Yosuke-senpai is being incredibly kind to invite even a loner like you. This is your big chance to actually see how the other half lives."

"Come with us!" Nana added, smirking. "At least you’d learn to actually get a life instead of staring at those boring notes all day. You’re going to turn into a fossil before you hit twenty-one."

Hiyori’s brow furrowed.

She had heard of Koenji Yosuke and his infamous "matchmaking parties", and according to the darker rumors circulating through the campus underground, those parties weren’t about finding love.

They were dens of drug-fueled orgies, excessive alcohol, and things far more debauched.

And Hiyori had no interest in being a "specimen" for some wealthy senior’s amusement.

"Yosuke-senpai’s party... that’s the one everyone knows is just a glorified meat market, right?" Hiyori said, her voice cool and dismissive. "I’m not interested. I have better things to do with my time."

The three roommates froze, and instantly, the air in the room turned brittle.

"What? Don’t be so ungrateful!" Mika snapped, her hands on her hips.

"That’s right! Do you have any idea how many people in this city would kill for an invitation from the Koenji family!?" Saki added, her voice rising in pitch.

"I have a boyfriend. Sorry," Hiyori stated flatly, turning her attention back to her notebook.

Technically speaking, she and Seijirou hadn’t officially sat down and defined their relationship with labels like "boyfriend" and "girlfriend."

But in her mind, the distinction was irrelevant.

She had given her virginity to him; she had given her body and her soul with him, and in the traditional worldview she had been raised in, they were practically already married.

And her loyalty was absolute.

"So what?" Nana laughed, a sharp, cynical sound. "If no one talks about it, no one would ever know! Every girl in university cheats on her boyfriend at least once, right girls? It’s part of the experience!"

"Yeah, you’re in university now, Hiyori! Enjoy your youth!" Mika added. "Find yourself. Don’t chain yourself to one guy before you’ve even tasted what else is out there."

"Exactly!" Saki snickered. "And besides, is this ’boyfriend’ even real? It’s not just some imaginary guy you made up to keep people away, right? We’ve never seen him. You don’t have photos, not even calls... it’s a bit suspicious, don’t you think?"

The three of them chuckled mockingly, their laughter ringing like tin against the walls of the small room.

Hiyori didn’t flinch. After all, she’s not like them, and she didn’t feel the need to prove Seijirou’s existence to people whose opinions she valued at zero.

"I don’t care about what you think," she said, her voice dropping into that dangerous, low tone she used when she was seconds away from a strike. "Just leave me alone."

"You—!?" Mika started to retort, her face flushing with anger.

"Arrogant bitch," Nana muttered, turning away.

"Tsk. Whatever. Let’s go," Mika said, waving a hand in dismissive disgust. "Leave this boring girl alone. She can rot here with her books while we’re having the night of our lives."

With a final flurry of perfume and insults, the three of them swept out of the room, slamming the door behind them.

Hiyori let out a long, weary sigh of relief, the tension leaving her shoulders as the silence of the dormitory returned.

"Thank god they’re finally gone," she whispered, rubbing her temples.

She reached for her pen to resume her notes, but at that moment, her phone—placed face-up on the desk—lit up with a bright flash of white light.

It was a message from a number she recognised, but an ID she simply named "No-Name".

Hiyori frowned and picked it up.

As she read the short, cryptic lines on the screen, her heart stopped.

Subject: Kageyama Seijirou has been admitted to a hospital in critical condition following the 24th District incident. He was in the ICU. But now he has made a full recovery thanks to Shirohara Retsu.

"What!?"

Hiyori surged to her feet so violently that her heavy wooden chair tumbled backward, crashing into the floor with a deafening thud as her blood turned to ice.

Seijirou? Hospitalized? In the ICU?

She didn’t stop to think that the message says that he has already recovered, and simply inquired for more details as her thumbs flew across the screen, typing a frantic reply: Where is he exactly? Give me the room number!

A few seconds later, the phone buzzed again and the name of the hospital and the floor plan for the VVIP wing appeared in a detailed map.

Without hesitation, Hiyori threw off her oversized study hoodie.

She didn’t wait to do her hair or grab a proper bag and just shoved her feet into her sneakers, grabbed her jacket, before bolting out of the room as she ran down the dormitory stairs, her heart hammering against her ribs with a rhythmic, terrified intensity.

Seijirou was hospitalised, and although he seems to have already recovered, she couldn’t care less about that—she was going to him.