The Villain Bought the Female Lead - Ch. 95
Craine slowly entered the room.
There were no traces of other people inside.
Mana energy was swirling around, but it wasn’t human.
“They all went outside. I believe they also visited the church. Did you not see them?”
Vargan read Craine’s gaze and explained, but this only made Craine feel even more uncomfortable.
Once he started seeing things in a negative light, it seemed like everything was tainted by it.
“The familiars are quite active.”
Nearby, familiars that seemed to belong to Vargan were staring at him intently. The ones that didn’t pay attention were either shedding or sleeping soundly.
“Don’t you need to communicate with familiars regularly? You, of all people, should know that… oh, then again, maybe not.”
Vargan suppressed a small laugh.
Craine watched that smile with his dark eyes.
This too was displeasing.
“… I thought you were an honest person.”
“Is there a reason you’d think that?”
Craine’s eyes twitched for a moment as he recalled the past, but he suppressed it by closing his eyes tightly and calming down.
This was exposing a weakness for him.
“You rejected my offer to mentor you without hesitation. Normally, people would have tried to soften the blow or at least shown some regret. But you confidently used Helion’s name to insult me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that you felt that way. I didn’t mean to insult you, Mr. Craine.”
Vargan answered sincerely.
There was no falsehood in his words, and they were conveyed clearly.
“I chose Lord Helion because it was the better option. If not, I wouldn’t have declined your offer to mentor me. I did have some interest in your familiar techniques, after all.”
“So, you’re not honest; you’re just rude.”
Craine frowned at the way Vargan compared Helion and him, as if he were pointing out the difference in the performance of products.
This bothered him even more because he was acutely aware of the difference between him and Helion.
Vargan had a face that looked completely innocent, as if he had no idea Craine was upset.
… well, whatever.
After all, he hadn’t come here to complain about not being chosen as a mentor.
Craine glanced around the room again, checking the state of the familiars, and confirmed that no specific orders had been given to them.
He was highly skilled in familiar magic.
Though it was unlikely, if Vargan had known Craine was coming and had arranged these creatures to intimidate him, Craine would have noticed from their reactions.
He picked up a whip from the mess of familiar-related items scattered around and inspected it.
It looked brand new, as if it had never been used.
“Familiars are great. Don’t you think?”
Having calmed his emotions somewhat, Craine spoke more evenly. The tense expression he had when entering the room had now softened considerably.
“People are a hassle. To use them, you have to form relationships, and maintaining those relationships requires a lot of time and effort.”
He let the coiled whip hang down, and it stretched out like a snake, its tail touching the floor. With a light flick to the side, the whip snapped through the air with a sharp crack.
“On the other hand, relationships with familiars are very simple. If they behave, you reward them; if they don’t, you punish them. Once you master this balance, training most familiars is as good as done.”
“There’s some truth to that.”
“So, you’re not entirely agreeing.”
Vargan placed his chin in his hand and looked up at the ceiling as if in thought.
It was clearly a deliberate gesture, yet somehow, when he did it, it felt oddly natural.
After a moment, he spoke.
“Well, it’s a discussion involving emotions and education, so it’s hard to outright disagree. But… it doesn’t seem like that’s what you came here to talk about….”
“I’m here to verify the truth on behalf of the church.”
“The truth… I see. Alright, let’s hear it.”
Though the conversation could have prompted one of them to suggest sitting down, the atmosphere between them wasn’t conducive to that.
A faint tension hung in the air, like the morning mist.
Vargan indicated he was ready to listen.
“I hear you’ve made a <contract> with the Frikkanrisk?”
“Yes, the process itself was no different from contracting with a typical familiar. The only difference is that it’s not a contract in my favor but one with equal terms for both parties.”
“Equal terms? Hah, haha⎯!”
Suddenly, Craine, who had been holding back laughter like someone stifling nausea, burst out laughing.
“Lies! You’re lying⎯!”
He shouted in fury, his face turning red.
It was like watching a transformation, reminiscent of Jekyll and Hyde.
Surprised for a moment by the sudden change, Vargan soon seemed to enjoy Craine’s reaction and asked, his voice tinged with excitement.
“Lies? What do you mean?”
“You claim to have made a contract with Frikkanrisk on equal terms? That’s utter nonsense!”
He asserted this with conviction.
The Twelve Divine Beasts never made equal contracts or contracts that favored the other party.
There were many reasons for this, but one among them was an unwritten rule that prevented them from interfering with humans, causing them to instinctively reject such an idea.
“If you’re telling the truth, does that mean you can see into others’ minds as if their thoughts were laid out before you? Can you see right through me right now?”
When one made a contract with a Divine Beast, they shared a portion of its power. The more advantageous the contract was for the person, the more power they received.
“Because the Frikkanrisk can see through the thoughts of any creature, be it human or monster! So, tell me, what am I thinking right now? What am I feeling, and what am I imagining? Go ahead, answer me!”
Craine was furious.
A beneficial contract with one of the Twelve Divine Beasts?
If that were possible, he would have done it long ago.
Perhaps he wouldn’t have tried to put Frikkanrisk into the chimera in the first place.
Even her husband, Aintern, hadn’t made such a contract, yet here Vargan was, spouting such nonsense…!
Right now, Vargan wasn’t just insulting him; he was mocking and toying with him! Otherwise, he wouldn’t be saying such ridiculous things!
“This is troublesome.”
Vargan flicked his fingers, holding his chin, and made a small sound, “Hmm….”
Then he asked.
“Are you sure you want me to say it out loud?”
“Yes, go ahead. I’ll listen carefully!”
Vargan smiled.
He spoke playfully.
“First, you’re extremely angry. Very, very angry.”
⎯Click.
Craine heard a sound in his brain like something snapping.
As if all the stress he had been accumulating over the past few days was finally breaking free. Craine, unable to contain himself any longer, began casting a spell. The creature that emerged from the summoning circle was a grotesque familiar.
“Joking is not advisable.”
It was a chimera.
It had the face of a lion, the legs of a horse, the wings of a wyvern, and a snake for a tail that moved freely. Its skin was as tough as armor.
Vargan raised his hand to stop Craine’s actions, chuckling.
“I only said <first>. I’m not done yet, but you’re in such a hurry.”
Then, I’ll give you the answer you want.
Vargan calmly assessed him as he spoke.
“I see a fierce mother tiger. Beside her is a man who appears to be her master and a tiger cub.”
“What?”
Ignoring Craine’s increasingly furrowed brow, Vargan continued his tale.
“A hunter appears out of nowhere and kills the man, taking the cub away. He took advantage of the mother tiger being asleep.”
Craine’s pupils began to dilate, but he refrained from reacting too strongly, listening to Vargan’s strange narrative as if it were a story being read aloud.
He felt like he couldn’t fully judge it until he’d heard everything.
“The greedy hunter, not satisfied with just the cub’s pelt, now aims for the mother. He teams up with a friend, another hunter, to bring her down.”
Vargan approached Craine, who was standing still, and took the whip from his hand, turning the handle upside down to hold it.
The blunt end looked like a microphone.
“The hunter loses his friend in the hunt, but he finally obtains the mother’s pelt, allowing him to survive the harsh winter. Quite a happy ending, don’t you think?”
Vargan smirked, raising one corner of his mouth, and held the whip’s handle up to Craine’s face like a microphone.
As if asking for his thoughts.
“Well? Doesn’t it sound familiar?”
“….”
“That should be enough proof.”
Instead of answering, Craine ground his teeth and grabbed Vargan by the collar, slamming him against the wall.
His hands trembled, but his eyes were sharp, like a blade, with the determination to kill his opponent.
This wasn’t just reading his own thoughts…!
“You, you… what nonsense are you spouting right now?”
His quivering voice made the words tremble as well.
“I’m not here to listen to your delusions⎯⎯!”
He pushed hard.
Gripping Vargan’s collar with increasing force.
His eyes glaring so intensely that veins were visible.
But, upon closer inspection, it could be seen that this was a defense mechanism to hide his own anxiety.
“What is it that you’re so afraid of?”
Vargan’s words were like venom.
“Are you scared of the cruelty and cunning of the hunter from the fairy tale I mentioned? Are you expressing intense emotions because you pity the dead white tiger and its master?”
The venom in his words was far more potent than the paralyzing poison Craine used when he killed Aintern, and it took effect immediately, not hours later.
“Or… are you afraid that your vile and treacherous crimes have been exposed?”
If so, that would mean you’re not even a villain or an evil person, but merely a pathetic supporting character pretending to be one.
As Vargan said this.
“I can’t understand a single thing you’re saying! Right now… I can’t understand a single word of your nonsense!”
He denied it clumsily.
Vargan interpreted it in a way that was easier to understand, as per his request.
“The white tiger was Frikkanrisk. Its owner was Aintern. The white tiger cub was their child. Do you still not understand?”
Vargan continued to psychologically pressure him.
One could only imagine how shocked he must have been to suddenly hear this secret, known only to Ami, in such a place.
Was it because of this?
“No…”
Craine released Vargan and stepped back, clutching his head, his eyes bulging as if they might pop out.
“No, no, no⎯!”
A voice so loud and unpleasant.
He screamed, having become a man driven to madness.
“It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me⎯⎯!”
His desperate plea was closer to a scream.
His attitude was as fickle as a reed swaying in the wind.
Once pathetic, now he was just pitiful.
“The voice… the voice made me do it…”
“How pitiful.”
“It was the voice that made me remember Frikkanrisk, that ordered me to kill Aintern, that told me to kidnap the child—everything! It was the voice… a voice I heard inside me that made me do it….”
As he listened to Craine’s tearful confession, Vargan’s demeanor turned icy.
He no longer considered him human.
“… you’ve lost your mind, Craine.”
Breathing shallowly, Craine gritted his teeth, his expression unstable.
Like someone suffering from the effects of drugs or alcohol.
He showed extreme symptoms of anxiety.
“Lost my mind? I went mad long ago. Ever since I started hearing the voice, my body hasn’t been my own! So… so, it wasn’t me… I didn’t want to kill anyone… it’s true, please believe me…”
He reached out with trembling hands, trying to grab Vargan.
Vargan didn’t push him away.
Considering something, Vargan softened his voice, removing the coldness from it.
“Are you saying that another personality within you gave you those orders?”
“It’s… it’s different… that wasn’t me. It was something separate from me… it’s true. It’s true…”
“Is that so?”
Vargan said.
His voice was calm, as if he had brushed off the heinous acts that had been committed.
“Alright, I’ll believe you.”
Vargan’s expression became one of kindness.
He reassured Craine by showing a sympathetic face.
Though the change in his attitude was abrupt, Craine, in his current state, desperately clung to any glimmer of hope.
“You’ll… you’ll believe me? You’ll really… believe me?”
“Yes, I saw sincerity in you.”
Vargan asked in a gentle tone.
He was cautious, knowing that Craine could become agitated.
The expression on his face was clearly a technique borrowed from Saint Diphelia.
“Help me believe you even more. Only honest answers can save you.”
“W-what… what do you want to know…?”
“Who moved your body, following the voice you heard inside?”
Craine hesitated.
He tried to decide whether it was right to say this here and now. However, in his current state.
“It was… it was me… it’s true I did it, but…”
He could no longer make the right decision.
This was partly due to the curse Vargan had slowly placed on him, but mostly because his psyche was extremely unstable.
He was already too broken.
“Is that so?”
Vargan smiled gently.
Then, he plucked the eyes out of a demon doll lying nearby and floated them into the air.
Facing the floating orbs, he declared.
He no longer paid attention to Craine, as if the matter was already settled.
[Craine, the sinner, has confessed his crimes!]
It was an advanced form of the video magic he had used to provoke everyone during the class competition. As he looked at it, Vargan spoke.
[For the crime of attempting to kill Frikkanrisk, one of the Twelve Divine Beasts, driven solely by your filthy desires! For the crime of killing her husband, the hero Aintern, who was also your comrade! For the crime of kidnapping their innocent child and causing the current situation!]
There were other crimes, but there was no need to reveal information about Ami here.
Vargan sneered at Craine, who seemed to be trying to comprehend the situation.
“… no way.”
Finally, Craine understood all the events that had transpired.
Everything that had happened here was being broadcast via video magic, and Craine had essentially confessed his sins.
And the place where it was likely being broadcast?
Probably the area where the most people had gathered in Dortmund at that moment.
“The square…!”
[And though he did not confess it, I charge him with destroying six villages as well.]
Craine, realizing what was happening, suddenly released a surge of mana.
Reacting to his mana, his familiar chimera began to swell like an inflated balloon and lunged at Vargan. Craine followed suit.
“You bastard⎯⎯⎯!”
Seeing this, Vargan snorted.
He hadn’t finished speaking.
[I hereby strip him of his title as a hero and sentence him to death.]
“Gah…!”
As if the building were collapsing, holes appeared everywhere as heroes charged in, subduing Craine and the chimera.
It all happened in an instant.
The heroes, who had been lying in wait, were veterans with years of experience, and they were just as furious as Craine.
They were the Helion team.
And they were the hero teams of Dortmund, including Yannik’s team, who were Craine’s former comrades.
Vargan stood calmly among them.
He was savoring the mid-conclusion of this story, which had progressed so effortlessly.