Why Am I The Villain?! Reincarnated in My Favorite Novel-Chapter 54: Convergence (1)

Darius strode through the night, his massive silhouette framed by flickering streetlights. A black sedan with tinted windows waited at the corner. He opened the driver’s door and slid inside.

He adjusted the rearview mirror, his eyes meeting a piercing gaze in the shadows of the backseat. A figure, motionless, stared back.

"Keeping tabs on me now?"

The figure tilted their head slightly.

"I’d like to know what this is about."

Darius frowned, his fingers tapping the steering wheel.

"What are you talking about?"

The Owl raised their chin, eyes narrowing.

"I didn’t tell the Council. I let you finish what you started. And this is how you thank me?"

Darius let out a dry laugh, his head tipping back against the headrest.

"Nothing proves that guy’s Zeref."

"I know it’s him. You must’ve confirmed it too."

Darius half-turned, his sharp gaze cutting through the mirror.

"You questioning my word? If I say I killed Zeref, he’s dead. That guy in there? Not him."

The Owl tilted their head, a cold smile curling their lips.

"Even so, he’s claiming the name. The Council will hear about it soon enough."

Darius shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Do what you want."

The Owl stared at him. Then their form seemed to dissolve, a wisp of black smoke rising from the backseat. In an instant, they were gone, leaving only a faint scent of ash in the air.

Darius chuckled, his fingers drumming on the wheel.

He started the engine, shifted into first, and the car surged forward.

City lights streaked by, a blur through the windows.

"How far did that bastard see the apocalypse?"

He touched his left cheek.

"No one knows. No one."

A bitter laugh escaped him.

The car sped into the night. Buildings flashed past, their drab facades lit by garish neon.

---

A heavy wooden door creaked open solemnly. Three figures entered a vast room bathed in harsh light from the ceiling. Silence fell instantly.

An old man led the way, clad in a long black coat. His time-faded eyes swept the room. To his left, a tall, lean man. To his right, a young woman with a serious face, her hair tied in a high bun.

The trio took their seats facing a semicircle of somber-faced men and women.

A man in his fifties, red tie over a dark gray suit, cleared his throat. "We’re listening."

The old man inclined his head. "Thank you for agreeing to this meeting."

A woman in a blue suit, wearing simple but expensive earrings, crossed her arms. "This isn’t about courtesy. It’s a matter of national necessity." Her tone was sharp, almost cutting, and she locked eyes with the old man. "You know we’re not doing this out of goodwill."

The old man, none other than Eamon, tilted his head slightly, his smile widening just enough to reveal a glint of amusement. "I understand, Madame Soren, head of Fion’s Warden Association. And I’m all the more grateful for it."

The man in the red tie laced his fingers. "Very well. So tell us: what does Zion want?"

Eamon glanced at his two companions, then fixed his gaze on the assembly. "We know who’s behind the Damos crisis. The one that erupted seven months ago."

A murmur rippled through the group, quickly silenced by a sharp snap of the central representative’s fingers. "We know that’s why you’re here. What we don’t understand is why you’re telling us, when Zion never meddles in our internal affairs."

"True," Eamon admitted. "But Zion has a stake in this."

A man in a military uniform, seated farther to the right, grimaced. "You’ve been getting awfully bold since we had to call on your services."

The woman in blue added swiftly, "I’m still offended. A clandestine guild, when we have the Senkai."

Another man turned to her. "You know why the Senkai couldn’t be deployed lightly."

The representative raised a hand, cutting off the discussion. "Enough, all of you." He turned to Eamon, his eyes piercing. "We’ve handled the Damos situation. As for who’s behind it, our own agencies are investigating. So why did you insist on this meeting?"

Eamon raised an eyebrow, his smile unwavering, though a more serious glint passed through his eyes. "Because you invited me, didn’t you? You wanted to hear what my colleagues and I have to say."

A man with white hair and thin-framed glasses leaned forward. "Zion has no business in our internal affairs."

"They’re useful," countered another, younger man. "Their neutrality could advance our investigations."

"Their neutrality is a facade," the woman in blue muttered.

The leader nodded. "Fine. Tell us. What does Zion gain by coming here?" He leaned forward, his voice dropping an octave. "And I warn you—lies won’t be tolerated. Your organization is powerful, but don’t underestimate our ability to harm you, even if we can’t match your strength."

Eamon didn’t flinch. He scanned the room slowly, one by one. Then: "To maintain balance."

No one spoke.

He continued, "Zion thrives as long as the world remains stable. We have contracts in over forty-seven countries. Networks, partners. A war, a collapse, and our entire operation is at risk."

The military man sat up straighter. "So you only care about your profits."

"Our survival," the lean man at Eamon’s side corrected calmly.

The representative frowned, his fingers stilling on the table. "Balance? Be more specific."

Eamon leaned forward slightly, his gaze sweeping the assembly. "The Damos incident was just a symptom. A crack in a much larger structure. It’s only the tip of the iceberg." He paused. "An iceberg that threatens to upend the global order. And that, ladies and gentlemen, doesn’t suit Zion’s interests."

Madame Soren narrowed her eyes. "An iceberg?"

The lean man to Eamon’s right coughed, drawing attention. "If I may..." He opened a briefcase at his feet and pulled out a tablet, sliding it toward the center of the table. "These are intercepted reports. Everything points to an organization operating in the shadows, far beyond Damos."

The military man snatched the tablet and scanned it quickly, his face tightening. "This is speculation! Nothing concrete."

The young woman to Eamon’s left spoke up. "Not speculation. Facts. We have names, dates, locations." She opened a folder and passed a stack of documents to the representative. "See for yourself."

The representative flipped through the pages, his brows furrowing deeper with each line. He looked up at Eamon. "If this is true, why didn’t you contact us sooner? Why wait seven months?"

Eamon shrugged, almost casually. "Because we had to be certain. Zion doesn’t take unnecessary risks."

A council member asked, "What is this organization, exactly?"

Eamon fixed him with a stare. "Shadow Hand."

The representative kept flipping through the documents. His jaw tightened. He slowly raised his eyes to Eamon.

"So, according to you, this organization... Shadow Hand... has set up a base in the heart of the Empire, in the underground?"

Eamon nodded without hesitation.

"Exactly. And it’s grown through their drug—a synthetic substance that boosts neural activity, temporarily enhances physical abilities, and, most importantly... becomes addictive after the third dose."

A red-bearded council member, his beard neatly trimmed, shot up in his seat.

"You’re saying the Damos crisis was a test?!"

Eamon gave a slow nod.

"A live experiment on a controlled, isolated population. The behavioral mutations it caused weren’t random."

The lean man at his side took over.

"As you can see on the screen, the organization has infiltrated underground trade networks. They’re not just selling a drug. They want to infect the system. Their economic influence is growing at an alarming rate."

Madame Soren scanned a document, her brows furrowed, then looked up at Eamon.

"You’re implying Shadow Hand already has a grip on the Empire’s underground?"

"Not entirely," Eamon replied. "But their progress is staggering. That’s why the Empire recently launched a purge of the underground."

"Yes," confirmed a weathered-faced man, "we’ve received reports of that operation. It seems the Empire is already working to counter Shadow Hand."

The young woman to Eamon’s left interjected.

"That was the idea, yes. But tell me, how does an organization rise so quickly? Overnight? And by sheer coincidence, the Empire responds with a purge at exactly the same time?"

The representative frowned, crossing his arms on the table.

"You’re suggesting Zion suspects the Empire of..."

Eamon cut him off calmly.

"No. But it’s clear the imperial family is involved, at some level."

The lean man spoke without pause.

"Historically, the Empire was governed by cooperation between noble families and the imperial family. That balance kept things in check. But in recent years, the current Emperor has been dismantling the great noble houses."

The young woman continued.

"The nobility, though weakened, remains influential, especially in the Empire’s parallel networks. They founded this country. Their ties to the underground are real."

A white-haired council member tapped the table with a finger.

"So... the purge is aimed at severing ties between the nobility and illegal networks?"

"Possible," Eamon conceded. "But it doesn’t fully explain Shadow Hand’s growth."

Madame Soren, still focused on the documents, looked up.

"Then what’s Shadow Hand’s role in this dynamic?"