The Villain Bought the Female Lead - Ch. 51
“I specialize in spirit magic. I can even create two spirits myself?”
Next.
“Ah, ah, hello! I, I, I am…”
Next.
“Hahaha! It’s been a while, Alicia. I let my guard down during the class battle and gave you my back, but next time I’ll face you fair and square.”
Next.
Wait a minute.
I didn’t know what Leon was thinking when he applied. I let his application pass half-jokingly, but he was part of the student council. You couldn’t join the research group unless you left the student council. Was he planning to leave?
Anyway, he was skilled but uncontrollable, so he was disqualified.
“Sir… wouldn’t it be better to talk to them a bit more?”
“You can tell from their attitude and magical energy, just from simple greetings. No need to talk at length.”
“But don’t you feel bad for the applicants? You keep rejecting them so quickly, and I feel terrible.”
“It’s better to move quickly. The faster the interview progresses, the better. Emily, you lack the understanding of the bigger picture.”
“… it’s strange. His condescending tone makes me angry… but I don’t have the energy to argue. Am I getting used to this? … Serena, what do you think? Isn’t this process moving too fast?”
“… it’s fine.”
“I believe Vargan’s decisions are correct.”
“Frieda… how much did Vargan pay you?”
As the enthusiasm for the interviews started to wane, I looked at the next applicant’s profile and regained my focus.
It was the turn of one of the four candidates I had been eyeing.
“I’m Bantlo Troa Belliard. I’m applying for the archer position.”
Ranked 7th in the entrance exam, currently the strongest first-year archer, Bantlo.
He was also one of the few close friends of Erica, and he came to join Arbol Frutal.
“….”
Serena showed rare signs of discomfort and vigilance. She must have remembered the time she struggled against Bantlo in the archer competition during the class battle.
Bantlo smiled kindly, unfazed by her caution.
I knew his general personality.
“You wrote in your application that you wanted to learn from me. Did you think that would give you extra points?”
“No. My desire to learn from the famous genius, Sir Vargan, is sincere. If there’s any ulterior motive, it’s to build a closer relationship with you during the learning process, not any impure thoughts.”
“Your smooth talking is on Alicia’s level.”
“… Master?”
Alicia, standing beside me, blinked her large eyes in confusion. She genuinely didn’t seem to understand what I meant. Her innocent act was just like his.
Bantlo smiled warmly, trying to diffuse the situation.
Well, that was just a warm-up. Now for the real questions.
“Erica wouldn’t be pleased, but you still decided to apply. I know you’re quite close to my fiancée.”
“She may influence my decision, but she can’t determine it. And to clear any misunderstandings, I don’t have romantic feelings for Erica.”
“You must think I’m petty.”
“Anyone would be concerned if they saw their beloved fiancée with another person.”
“Beloved fiancée, huh….”
“Isn’t she?”
“Hmm….”
I pretended to ponder, feeling everyone’s eyes on me.
Alicia, trying not to look but sneaking glances, was particularly noticeable.
“She’s not as endearing as my familiar.”
“Familiar…?”
“Yes, nothing is more beloved than my familiar.”
“….”
Alright then.
That was enough about Erica.
There was something I needed to confirm with you high-nosed nobles.
“Arbol Frutal is a meritocratic society. I don’t know what privileges you’ve enjoyed in your territory, but they don’t apply here.”
“It was kindly stated in the recruitment guidelines. You’re saying the group I belong to will depend on my abilities, right?”
“Correct.”
Arbol Frutal existed for the endless development of its members. This was ultimately for my benefit, but still.
There were four groups.
Root, trunk, stem, and branch.
They were divided based on importance and the members’ combat abilities.
The root was the executive group of Arbol Frutal.
The trunk was the advanced group.
The stem was the basic group.
The branch was the beginner group.
Since there was a vast difference in individual abilities, assigning them to appropriate groups was necessary. The content they learned and the tasks they performed must differ as well.
Just like in reality where students were placed in classes that match their abilities when they entered school.
“It aligns with the ideals of Academia. We can’t nurture great warriors if we’re bound by social status.”
“So, even if you end up in the beginner group, <branch>, and others mock you, you won’t complain?”
“If my skills are inferior to other applicants, it’s a fair treatment.”
Was it that my personality strange? I liked how he said everything while smiling sweetly.
He seemed to speak beautifully, but he was essentially saying he wouldn’t consider it fair if others’ skills didn’t match up with his.
His confidence in his abilities allowed him to respond this way.
“You’re accepted.”
Bantlo looked somewhat surprised at my sudden acceptance.
He understood my words but seemed unsure if it was appropriate to announce it now.
“… is that alright?”
“I don’t like dragging things out. I give clear results immediately. You’ll be in the <trunk> group. You would’ve wanted to be in the root group, but new recruits can’t join the executives. You’ll be promoted if you meet the conditions later.”
“You’re quite decisive.”
“If you understand, you may leave. There are still people waiting in line.”
Bantlo bowed lightly and left. He maintained his pleasant smile until the end.
Flip.
I checked the next applicant’s profile.
Although not as outstanding as Bantlo, a decent candidate was waiting.
“Hey… are you really going to accept Bantlo?”
“Bantlo is an excellent prospect. What’s the issue, Emily?”
“It’s not really an issue….”
Emily glanced at Alicia and Serena, then shook her head with an awkward smile.
“I understand you’re cautious because he’s associated with Erica, but there’s no need to worry.”
“That’s true… it’s just… hmm. Never mind. Let’s call the next person.”
Knock, knock.
The next applicant entered.
Many more applicants came and went after that.
The long interview finally ended two hours later.
***
“33 applicants in total. The number of members suddenly increased.”
“Yes. Master seemed to be in a good mood.”
“Did he…? I didn’t notice.”
“His right lip corner went up 1 mm at an angle. He was openly expressing his satisfaction, wasn’t hr…?”
“No, no. That’s impossible. How do you even notice that?”
Alicia and Emily were walking down the corridor after the interview.
Alicia looked at Emily as if asking, ‘How can you not know?’
Emily was momentarily speechless at Alicia’s pure gaze.
“Is it because you’re observant… or because you’ve spent a lot of time together…? Alicia, it seems you know everything about Vargan.”
“I still have a long way to go. I have much to learn to become a useful servant.”
“….”
Alicia clenched her fists, showing determination.
Seeing her, Emily remembered the situation from the interview. She had suspected it for a long time but never heard it directly from Alicia. She wanted to confirm.
“Alicia… may I ask you something?”
“Yes, what is it?”
Emily looked around. The corridor was empty except for them. It was the perfect time. Usually, Alicia stuck close to Vargan.
Emily tried to ask as casually as possible, so Alicia wouldn’t feel pressured and hide her true feelings.
“Alicia, is it okay for Bantlo to join? You know… Bantlo, Erica, and Vargan have a kind of… complex relationship.”
“A complex relationship?”
Seeing Alicia’s innocent reaction, Emily sighed and continued.
“Erica and Vargan are engaged, right? Bantlo is involved, creating a sort of triangle.”
“Yes…….”
Alicia’s voice gradually faded.
Emily thought Alicia didn’t understand, so she got straight to the point.
“Was my explanation too vague? I mean, Alicia, do you like Vargan?”
No.
She answered decisively, cutting off Emily’s question before it could continue.
“Uh…?”
Emily froze.
It was Alicia’s voice; one she had never heard before. It was different from the murderous aura she displayed when Liam and Vargan clashed.
In contrast to her firm tone.
Alicia still wore a faint smile.
Her smile, bathed in moonlight, usually excited and soothed those who saw it.
But at this moment, Emily felt that Alicia’s smile was artificially created. And desperate.
“If I startled you, I’m sorry. But I had to make this clear.”
Alicia spoke.
So resolutely.
“The feelings I should have for the Master do not include <that>. Nor should they.”
“But…”
Alicia noticed Vargan’s slightest actions and smallest changes like a ghost. She blushed at his little kindnesses and compliments. She spent her days thinking of him, doing everything for him.
It was too much to be merely the feelings of a servant.
If this wasn’t love, then what was?
Emily had a lot to say. She wanted to argue against Alicia’s statement.
But in the end, she swallowed her words.
“Is that… so…”
“Yes, Emily.”
Alicia’s smile.
That blue light that brightened the darkness.
“That’s how it is.”
It looked somewhat sorrowful.
***
In a bedroom, with all the lights off.
A shadowy figure shivered while wrapped in something. The faint sound of shallow, labored breathing made it seem like someone was in pain.
“Gasp… sob…”
The shadowy figure was the saint, Diphelia, trembling in fear.
She was so scared that she spent the night tightly wrapped in blankets. She had a slight fever. Whenever she closed her eyes, the memory from earlier replied before her.
As usual, a divine oracle came without warning.
But the scene was vastly different from previous ones.
A space engulfed in flames.
The Altife army surged in, massacring people, while the heroes formed a line, desperately trying to hold them off. Some of her academy peers were visible. Though their appearances and demeanor differed slightly from now, it was unmistakably them.
She didn’t remember all the details, but the most striking figure stood out. In the blood-splattered battlefield, a woman with distinct white hair was singularly hunting the Altifes.
Alicia.
It was undoubtedly her. She was more mature than she was now, but her beautiful appearance remained the same. However, her demeanor and the weapon she held were different; she had an expression devoid of emotion, casting spells at the enemies with relentless indifference.
She was incredibly strong. Terrifyingly relentless.
“……”
Diphelia gripped her blanket even tighter. As the subsequent events came to mind, she involuntarily tensed.
The leader of the Altife army appeared, drawing everyone’s attention. He was smiling, enjoying taunting everyone on the battlefield with an arrogant grin.
His arrival plunged the world into darkness, and the heroes fell into despair. It wasn’t a mere metaphor; it was <despair> itself.
Those holding swords dropped them and writhed on the ground. Vomiting blood and screaming in agony was common, and many even attempted suicides.
Those with bows and accessories aimed their weapons and magic at their comrades. They shed bloody tears, screaming they didn’t want to. Like puppets being controlled.
In that horrific hell, Alicia charged forward like a beam of light.
She swung her staff at the cause of all this. Her magic parted the clouds and shook the heavens. Alicia was emotionless. Like a living machine, she coldly unleashed her spells.
The man opposing Alicia, the cause of all this, had his expression twisted. It seemed like he was cursing. The sneer that had been on his lips moments before was now contorted.
It was resentment, anger, lamentation…
And beyond that, it was hatred.
“Vargan…”
The future Diphelia, watching this, softly called his name. She didn’t cry, but it was clear she felt a profound wave of emotion, like witnessing a tragedy.
“……”
What followed was a battlefield too horrifying to watch with a sane mind.
In a massive ritual circle she had never seen before, people descended into a frenzy, and those who overcame it charge at Vargan.
However, the person Diphelia saw as the most insane was not those struggling within the ritual.
It was Vargan.
Facing numerous heroes and academy peers alone, he released overwhelming magic, seemingly consumed by uncontrollable emotions.
It was an irony.
The one who manipulated others was being consumed by his own emotions and heading toward destruction.
Even for Vargan, he could not withstand the combined might of the steadfast heroes. A massive magical sword pierced his heart. It was Alicia’s magic.
Vargan fell to his knees with a heavy thud on the blood-soaked ground. His disheveled, luxurious suit was stained deep red with his and others’ blood.
As Alicia’s magic dissipated, a hole remained in his chest where the sword had been. Blood poured from his mouth like a waterfall. Then, his crimson lips moved.
The golden knight, Arterion, who noticed something, frowned and hurriedly raised his sword. He planned to behead Vargan. In that brief moment, Vargan lifted his head and smiled. His eyes, filled with malice, cursed the survivors.
Although she was far away, as a saint, Diphelia understood what he said.
She knew the sentence he uttered at the end.
Rumble…!
Everyone noticed the anomaly.
Arterion, stepping on Vargan’s now-dead body, acted out of rage. The golden knight had made a mistake. Vargan should not have been killed like this. His death completed the spell.
Like pages of a book overlapping.
Like one world meeting another.
A massive distortion occurred in space.
The already exhausted heroes witnessed the supernatural phenomenon. The only certain emotion in their eyes was <fear>.
Diphelia’s trembling was also due to the appearance of the black army seen after Vargan’s death. Among them, there was an <overwhelming presence>. A complete being that made all other life forms seem insignificant.
A different league.
A different dimension of death.
As that being stepped onto the vile land.
The oracle ended.
“Gasp… gasp… cough…!”
Like being submerged. Diphelia struggled to breathe. She forcibly expanded her lungs to inhale and exhale. Still, it wasn’t easy.
It was terrifying.
So terrifying.
Too terrifying.
Was this the future that awaited them?
Was this the enemy they had to face?
Diphelia’s insides shook to the roots. She couldn’t see the way forward.
Not because she was blind.
The dark path etched in her eyes was a clear tragedy.
Even though the progression differed from the tragedy she saw ending with Vargan, Diphelia had no way of knowing. The saint who received the oracle was lost.
“Vargan… Vargan…”
She murmured Vargan’s name.
He might hold a clue. He must know something… but was it alright to bring this up? In the oracle, he clearly opposed the heroes and followed the goddess…
A deep night devoured by darkness.
A night where fear consumed dreams.
Saint Diphelia, unable to sleep, sought the right choice.
“Vargan… Vargan…”
Muttering the same words continuously.