Young Master's PoV: Woke Up As A Villain In A Game One Day

It was early afternoon.

The sun was hanging high in the clear blue sky, casting long shadows on the streets.

Today marked the sixth day of our mission.

I was sitting on a weathered roadside bench beside the church.

Yes, the same church I visited that day.

But today, I had no intention of stepping inside — not yet, at least.

Instead, I was watching some children play silly games on the street in front of me.

There were six of them, four boys and two girls.

They looked to be around eight to nine years old.

Since this was the inner city, where only the wealthy and influential people lived, the clothes these children wore seemed far better than those worn by kids in the slums.

But make no mistake, even here they weren't exactly draped in silk or gilded ornaments.

Compared to what noble kids wear in the Western Safe-Zone, their attires were still modest.

But by the standards of this region, their clothes looked clean, neatly pressed, and well-fitted.

Their faces were flushed and bright, their features soft, and their cheeks round — they were all clear signs of full meals and restful nights.

These kids lived lived comfortably.

It was enough to tell me that their parents were people of means — minor nobles, merchants, or perhaps officials with ties to the Knight Council.

I sighed.

For the past two days, I had been watching these children.

They attended the church school, and every afternoon, after their classes ended, they came here to play for an hour or two.

Their laughter rang out freely, unburdened, bubbling over like a spring after the thaw.

Today, they were playing a game called Hunter and Beast.

One of the boys was holding a wooden sword, playing the part of a gallant knight.

The other kids took turns pretending to be fearsome monsters.

The rules of their game were simple.

The knight had to touch all the monsters with his sword.

If he succeeded, he won.

The monsters could stop him by throwing softballs at him.

If the knight was hit thrice, he'd die and the monsters would win.

It was strange, watching them.

Their world felt so distant from mine — not in distance, but in spirit.

I never knew such carefree joy in my childhood.

I never played these games, never laughed like they did.

I was a stranger to the ease they took for granted.

Right then, when I was lost in my thoughts, a ball rolled too far from the kids, bouncing unevenly toward me.

One of the girls, her braids flying behind her, ran after it.

She stopped when she saw me, her bright green eyes locking onto mine.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice as polite as her upbringing demanded.

I bent down, picked up the ball, and held it out to her.

"Here," I said, offering a small smile.

"Thank you, sir," she replied, taking it carefully with both hands.

She lingered a moment longer than she needed to, her head tilted slightly as if studying me.

Did she see something in my face?

Something that made her uneasy?

"Go on," I said, my voice soft.

She nodded quickly and dashed back to the others.

I leaned back on the bench, my fingers twitching involuntarily.

Watching them play was strange for yet another reason.

In just a few days, hundreds of Spirit Beasts would be unleashed into the city streets.

Countless citizens were going to die, as a result.

In fact, the death toll would reach tens of thousands.

I could stop it if I wanted to.

But I wasn't going to.

Because if I stopped it now, this mission would be over, and I'd gain nothing from this venture.

So, I was putting my own ambitions before the lives of thousands.

My greed — no, my need for power — meant more than these people.

And so, I would let them die.

Because if I didn't, millions more would die in a future that I would be too weak to change.

I knew that prioritizing my thirst for strength was despicable, vile even, but I had no choice.

So, even if some of these children would die in the coming massacre… I would let it happen.

Another sigh escaped me.

And it was then that I noticed an old man headed toward me.

He was the same guy Kang, Michael, and I had met a few days ago.

He was guarding that village on the outskirts.

His name was Rob.

His face was full of deep wrinkles, but his hardened expression remained cold.

Every inch of him radiated an aura of sharp danger.

And though his back was slightly hunched, his every movement was precise and controlled.

There were no cracks in his stance, no vulnerabilities in his posture.

His deathly calm eyes swept over every detail with the unblinking focus of a hawk, making it nearly impossible to sneak up on him.

This man was, in every sense of the word… dangerous.

I almost thanked the gods he wasn't an Awakened — because if he were, he'd be a monster.

I kept my composure, watching him from the corner of my eye as he approached and sat on the other side of the bench.

He pulled out his communicator and started scrolling through the news article on it with no apparent interest in me.

A few minutes passed in silence, and then he spoke.

His tone was soft, as if he were speaking to himself.

But he wasn't.

He was talking to me.

"It's done.

"I gave him a sidelong glance.

I didn't need to ask what he meant.

I already knew.

A few days ago, I acquired three unwitting pawns when I visited a bar.

And coincidentally, all three of them were officers in the police force.

Yes, I'm talking about those three unfortunate idiots I played poker with — Jones, Mark, and Lyle.

After taking them in as my underlings, I gave them simple tasks.

It wasn't anything too dangerous or complicated — just things like moving some papers, giving me bits of information, that sort of thing.

One of them, Lyle, had a specific role.

He had to pretend he was about to destroy a bag of documents.

He didn't know what was in that bag, only that it was something important.

Meanwhile, I kept a close eye on my team, especially on Michael.

So, last night, when Michael and Lily made their way to the police station, I gave Lyle a call.

I told him to look out for those two, make sure Michael noticed him, and then start running.

His job was to lead Michael to a back alley.

At first, Lyle was hesitant, suspicious even.

But I assured him I'd handle everything once he got Michael to the alley.

Maybe he thought I had some personal grudge against Michael and planned to ambush him.

Whatever he imagined, he agreed.

Not that he had much of a choice — I wasn't exactly asking.

But it's always better when the lamb walks willingly to the slaughter.

Less noise.

No struggle.

Fewer complications.

And so, Lyle did as instructed, dangling the bait just enough to catch Michael's attention.

Michael, predictable as ever, bit down hard.

He had a knack for sensing something wrong when everything seemed right — a quality that made him dangerous, but also easy to manipulate.

Once Lyle led Michael to the alley, I gave the order.

Not to him… but to Rob.

I asked Rob to kill Lyle.

The old man was a retired sniper, so taking a shot like that to assassinate someone wasn't exactly hard for him.

And so it happened.

A clean kill, no loose ends.

But why did I sacrifice my own pawn?

Because he had outlived his usefulness.

And also because I needed Michael and Lily to believe that the documents Lyle carried were genuine.

I needed them to look credible.

In reality, Michael was getting too close to the truth.

If I had left him unchecked, he would've unraveled everything and ended this mission within days.

I couldn't allow that to happen.

Not yet.

Not in this way.

So I gave him a piece of the truth, just enough to misdirect him.

I forged some papers — fake reports, records, blueprints.

While those documents were fake, the truth in them wasn't.

Well, not entirely.

And all those documents painted Overlord Everan as the mastermind behind the city's chaos — the culprit Michael was looking for.

That shifted Michael's attention entirely to what I wanted him to focus on.

Now he'd stop putting his nose where he shouldn't.

And if my instincts were right, he would soon make his move.

Which meant I'd have to make mine.

Oh, I loved this part.

The thrill of watching everything fall perfectly into place.

The game had begun.

I let a faint smile tug at my lips and turned to the old man beside me.

"Good job.

What about the others?

"He hesitated for a moment, then gave a very slight nod.

"They're taken care of as well.

"Since Lyle had to die, I couldn't let his comrades live.

That wouldn't be fair.

And loose ends were a luxury I couldn't afford.

So, I had Mark and Jones removed as well.

"Great.

" I turned back to watch the children playing.

"The money will be in your account in a few days.

I heard your son died recently, and your granddaughter's an Awakened.

You're collecting enough to send her to an academy, aren't you?

"For the first time since he sat down, Rob looked directly in my direction.

"So?

"I shrugged.

"If you want, I can arrange the funds.

I can even recommend her to the Apex Academy—"But before I could finish, Rob cut me off.

"No need.

"I raised an eyebrow.

He paused, then shook his head.

"I already have most of what I need for a good academy.

I don't need another deal from you.

"I studied him for a beat.

"How did you know I was offering a deal?

Maybe I was doing it out of the kindness of my heart?

"Rob scoffed, his lips curling into a bitter smirk.

"Men like you don't do charity without something in it for them.

"I blinked, then returned the smirk.

"There are no men like me.

"This time, Rob's scoff was laced with a venomous chuckle.

"Oh, there are always men like you.

Men who think they're above consequences.

Men who think they can do anything because they have power and money.

"I rolled my eyes.

"If you're talking about those cops, they weren't exactly saints.

They were corrupt.

You know what they did to a young woman—"Once again, Rob interrupted me before I could finish.

"Doesn't matter what kind of man he was.

You had no right to play god.

But you did.

And that's the kind of man you are.

"I took a slow breath, letting the words settle before responding.

"Okay, old man.

Sure, I'm disgusting trash.

But remember, I didn't pull the trigger.

"Rob stared at me for a long moment, and for a brief instant, I swear I saw the wrinkles on his face softening — just barely — before hardening once more.

He turned around and started walking away, but not before muttering under his breath, "And that makes me worse than you.

"