A Villain's Will to Survive novel Chapter 231

Chapter 231: Island of the Voice (1)

Sophien’s life had been confined to a single stretch of time—a poisoned chapter marked by death repeating without end. However, the truth behind those days, and the hand that slipped the poison into her cup, stirred neither anger nor interest within her.

Perhaps it was a kind of defense mechanism—one shaped, in part, by the presence of a certain professor who had shared that long season of death with her. In her memory, those days had been softened, blurred at the edges by time.

And even if she were to destroy everyone behind it, there was nothing to gain, no peace to be won. To Sophien, who was far more pragmatic than most believed, that made it worthless.

“The reason why... Your Majesty loathes the Scarletborn?” Ahan repeated.

However, Sophien harbored a singular loathing for the Scarletborn, as if something deep in her blood remembered them.

“Indeed,” Sophien replied, leaning back as a breath slipped from her lips. “The people of the Empire loathe the Scarletborn—for daring to live well, earning money through the power of demons, and dining better than they ever could.”

A hint of demonic energy flowed through the blood of the Scarletborn, and perhaps because of it, each bore powers infused with the unnatural.

Some could use telepathy to read thoughts as if turning the pages of a book, others could draw memories and sensations from the faintest touch of an object through psychometry. And there were those whose eyes alone—those cursed magic eyes—could awaken emotion with nothing more than a glance.

Unlike magic, which demanded years of study and discipline, the powers drawn from demons required neither. And so, within the Empire, many among the Scarletborn ascended to wealth through their inherent psychic gifts.

“But my reasons are not the same as theirs.”

Gulp—

Ahan swallowed hard, the silence pressing in like a weight on her chest.

“I don’t need a specific reason to ostracize the Scarletborn,” Sophien muttered, a faint smile touching her lips as her eyes wandered toward the sky outside the window.

“... Pardon me?”

“I loathe the Scarletborn. No reason needed.”

Ahan blinked slowly, as if her thoughts had fallen a step behind the world.

“That feeling grows louder with every passing day,” Sophien continued, a faint twist pulling at her otherwise expressionless lips. “It beats inside me now—like an impulse, like hunger. As if I were born for the sole purpose of loathing the Scarletborn.”

Loathe without purpose. Emotion without cause. In the end, the Scarletborn became the personification of Sophien’s flaw—a living reminder that she was not perfect, but fractured, and made whole only by what she lacked.

But then again, what of it? Sophien thought.

From the beginning, the title of the Empress was never meant for some perfect human being. It was merely one of many positions granted to those born into the bloodline of the imperial family.

“Of course, some among them once plotted to assassinate me—and Kreto as well. But a plot is just a plot. Whether it ever came to pass, no one will ever know. There was a time, when I was young, that I believed the Scarletborn were to blame for my curse,” Sophien said, taking a slow draw from her pipe, its ember flaring in the silence. “But none of it matters anymore.”

As a plume of blue pale smoke curled from her lips, Sophien lowered her eyes, while Ahan slowly raised hers from below to meet the Empress’s.

“... Ahan, haven’t I told you before?”

For a moment, the air in the bedchamber thickened.

“That perhaps I was never meant to be anything but a monster.”

Sophien’s crimson eyes narrowed like a hawk’s, curving into a predatory crescent drawn in blood, while a serpentine smile curled around Ahan’s waist.

“No, never, Your Majesty—”

Ahan could barely breathe, her skin damp and stuck with cold sweat. It felt as if blood was pouring in through the open window, flooding the ground beneath her—and in that rising tide, she sensed the quiet terror of drowning.

“... Hmph. That’s enough. Whatever the reason may be—my will remains unchanged. The Scarletborn will be suppressed,” Sophien said.

Tap—!

The tap of Sophien’s pipe against the table echoed through the chamber, breaking the tension like glass under pressure and making the weight in the air recede. Ahan exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and lowered her head.

“Even the Professor cannot stand against my will,” Sophien added, her voice as precise as a blade, carrying a warning to Deculein—one delivered in the name of the Empress.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I will take it to heart, and I’m certain Professor Deculein will do the same...”

It was Ahan’s responsibility now—to carry the Empress’s words, and with them, her will.

***

... It was late at night. The full moon had risen beyond the window of the Mage Tower, illuminating pale light across the stone. Somewhere around the thirtieth floor, Epherene was likely still locked in an all-night meeting.

Meanwhile, I sat in silence, listening to the trial run of the radio transceiver—a line running from the Imperial Knights’ Order in the Empire to faraway Rekordak.

— This is the Imperial Knights’ Order. Knight Deya, do you copy? What is the situation on your end?

— Rekordak remains secure. The monsters near the wall show no unusual signs, and the collision values remain low. At this time, there is no present threat.

Yulie’s voice from Rekordak came through the radio as clear as ever, like the sound of her own conviction. I listened silently, my fingers brushing over the bracelet.

───────

[Charred Bracelet]

◆ Description

: Charred Bracelet

◆ Category

: Damaged

◆ Special Effect

: The mark of the Track Location remained.

───────

It looks like nothing to the eye—charred, broken, barely worth a second glance. But to Yulie, it is likely her most treasured thing in the world, I thought.

— Understood. What is Knight Deya’s current condition?

Something in that transmission caught me wrong, and before I knew it, my brow had drawn tight.

— My condition... is that what you're asking?

— Yes, I was hoping to know the current condition of Knight Deya, the one holding the line at Rekordak.

I listened more closely, and the voice belonged to Gawain—Yulie’s junior and one of the Empire’s most respected elite knights.

— I am well.

— Have you been able to take your meals?

— ... Yes, I have.

Something in that casual exchange disturbed me—unnecessarily. Perhaps this, too, was part of Deculein’s personality. Perhaps this was why he pushed Yulie and those close to her away.

— I’m glad to hear it. The Empire has not forgotten you, Knight Deya. Should the expedition into the Land of Destruction be confirmed, we may be able to meet again.

As Gawain’s voice crackled through the radio, a thought took hold—quiet at first, but underneath it, something bitter began to rise, slow and sour, like a sickness without a name.

“... Should I kill him?” I muttered.

It was meant to be a line for official use, and yet he filled it with nonsense. If that’s Gawain, then he’s already disqualified in my book. I was right to put my weight behind Delic, I thought.

— Understood. Should anything unexpected occur, do not hesitate to report it over the line.

Just as Yulie was about to end the radio communication...

Bang—!

The office door swung open without warning, and I turned toward the sound.

“Oh?” said Adrienne, the petite Chairwoman, clutching a staff nearly as tall as she was. “Professor Deculein! You're still around?!”

“Is trespassing part of your daily routine now, Chairwoman?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.

“What?! Trespassing?! This is well within my rights as Chairwoman!” Adrienne replied, flashing a master key that could open every floor from the 1st to the 98th.

“... Is there a purpose behind your visit?” I asked, shaking my head.

“Not really! I was just bored!” Adrienne replied, skipping over to the seat across from me with a smile that said she knew exactly what she was doing. “Oh, and I heard you had the nerve to contradict Her Majesty~!”

God knows when she’d heard it—or how the rumor had spread so quickly—but Adrienne arched her brows.

"And where did you hear that from?" I asked, the corners of my mouth betraying a hint of distaste.

"Hehehe. So it is true! I was only fishing for a reaction—but you gave me more than enough!"

“... Fishing for a reaction?”

"Yes! The word came straight from the Imperial Palace. They say Her Majesty was in a foul mood the entire day—and the grand imperial hall? Tense enough to snap! Of course, I couldn’t help but wonder... was Professor Deculein the reason behind it all? And apparently, I was the only one who thought of this idea!"

Adrienne definitely had a gift for reading rumors and acting on them without missing a beat. That constant smile of hers had been nothing but a poker face. Before I even realized it, she had drawn out exactly the reaction she was looking for.

"And if I had to guess, I'd say it had something to do with the Scarletborn!"

"It’s confidential. I trust you’ll keep it that way, Chairwoman," I said.

“Hmm~?” Adrienne replied with a tilt of her head. “You’re asking me to keep a secret?! How adorably naive of you?!”

I remained silent.

“Hmph! I’ll just draw my own conclusions, then!” Adrienne said, narrowing her eyes.

"Treason? Me? Pfft! The Empire treats me far too well—they’re afraid I might run off to another nation! But more than that, isn’t it strange? Why does Her Majesty loathe the Scarletborn so deeply, yet offer such grace to every other minority?!"

Crackle—!

— Emergency report. An island has surfaced within the Empire’s territorial waters.

“Huh?!”

— There are reports from the island—of the long dead seen walking again.

— As of now—

— Oh! Professor! Yes, sir!

— Yes, Professor. Proceeding now.

— Yes, Professor.