Chapter 1

A villain is a noble role.

At least, that’s how I see it. Why? Because a story only gains true richness when a villain exists. Without someone to embody evil, the role of good, of the protagonist, cannot truly shine. Where there is sunlight, shadows must fall. Where there is a “high,” a “low” inevitably follows.

A villain breathes tension into the narrative, sets events into motion, and propels the story forward. More than that, villains give readers someone to despise, uniting them in shared scorn, spurring heated debates and discussions that bring the story alive. And in doing so, the tale gains renown.

Yet the moment when a villain shines brightest is not when they stand alone; it is when they stand beside the protagonist. Because of the villain, the hero grows. (And that growth isn’t always in a purely noble sense.) The hero comes to cherish bonds they once took for granted, gains life lessons they would never have known otherwise, and moves forward.

In short, a villain is an indispensable force that steers the protagonist toward their happy ending.

So, I believed. Which led me to conclude that, in truth, the hardest, most burdensome role in any story wasn’t the hero’s, but the villain’s.

What I didn’t know then… was that I would one day awaken as that overburdened villain myself.

******

June—when the last whispers of spring fade and the first breath of summer begins.

“Company, attention!”

The commanding voice thundered across the hall.

This was a joint auditorium within the Empire’s military territory. Soldiers, clad in pristine uniforms, stood beneath banners bearing the Empire’s emblem. Their sheer numbers filled the vast chamber to the brim.

“Salute the newly inaugurated Commander-in-Chief!”

The booming order rang out again, and in perfect unison, the soldiers saluted. Like clockwork dolls wound tight, not a single motion faltered, not a single angle wavered. And through that sea of rigid tension, one man strode forward with measured calm.

Black hair, deep brown eyes. [Read on RanaTranslations🌸] Beneath his thick brows shone a gaze stronger and firmer than any soldier present. Among his comrades, he stood like the Empire’s flag itself, cutting a path as the ranks parted for him.

A long black cloak billowed at his back. The medals adorning his shoulders and chest glittered beneath the light, and the violet sash slanting across his torso blazed with imperial authority.

With an expression as unyielding as stone, the man approached the stage. Above, the Imperial flag and the royal banner crossed in an X, presiding over the ceremony. He cast them a brief glance before ascending the platform.

There, the outgoing Commander awaited. The man saluted crisply, and the superior returned the gesture with a gentle smile. Then came the word that echoed through the hall:

“At ease!”

“Take care of the army, Theo.”

“I shall uphold your command.”

With a smile, the Commander unpinned a golden insignia from his own chest and affixed it to Theo’s uniform—a badge in the shape of an eagle, the very symbol of the Empire’s military might. It was an honor reserved for one man alone: the one who stood at the absolute summit of the army.

The ceremony continued to flow smoothly thereafter. Soldiers and officers alike congratulated Theo, and he, in turn, returned their words with gracious thanks.

“…Luke.”

When all was done, Theo turned to the generals assembled behind him. Of them all, the first hand he extended was toward Luke.

“Well done.”

Light brown eyes lowered to the offered hand. After a beat, Luke’s lips twisted into a crooked smile. He clasped Theo’s hand firmly.

“Mockery, is it?”

“…You don’t seem all that pleased about my inauguration.”

Not pleased? On the contrary, he was delighted. But Luke buried the truth beneath that warped smile. He let Theo’s hand fall with a snap and strode off the stage, down the steps, and out of the hall before anyone else.

“Did you see that? [Read on RanaTranslations🌸] Captain Luke just brushed off the Commander’s hand!”

“Still the same, right to the end. But wasn’t the outcome already decided?”

“He must be seething. After all, he tried every trick in the book to claim that position for himself.”

“Serves him right. Reap what you sow, and all that.”

Whispers rippled among the soldiers, hushed but sharp.

Yes. Retribution. Poetic justice. There was no better way to describe it.

Outside the hall, Luke clenched his fist. As always, the story had played out as it should: the protagonist triumphed, and the villain suffered defeat.

And that, precisely that, was the ending Luke had so desperately desired.

“Damn, that dragged on. Helping the protagonist succeed is exhausting work.”

Scratching at the back of his head, Luke tore off the cumbersome cloak.

The story was over. The ending was behind him.

Now, it was time to leave… and begin writing his own epilogue.