kweenjaded

A slow, mocking clap echoed through the darkness. A voice—smooth, rich, dripping with amusement—purred into existence.

“The end?”

Laughter followed, low and sultry, curling like silk in the air.

“You must be kidding. Do you think a little thing like fate can stop me?”

A soft hum. A pause. Then a wicked chuckle.

“Love? Kindness? What use are such things when fear is so much sweeter? I was never meant to be saved, my dearies. This is no fairy tale.”

The voice sharpened, rich with delight.

“This is a villain’s tale.”

A gust of wind howled, the shadows trembled, and the air crackled with unseen power.

“And it is not over. In fact…”

A pause.

A single chime.

> [Ding!]



A cold, mechanical voice rang out, devoid of warmth yet brimming with eerie purpose.

[Greetings, Host. I am the Villain Reform System.]

[Your mission: To prove that even the darkest villainess can be redeemed.]

[Failure to comply will result in execution.]

Silence.

Then—softly, slowly—the villainess laughed.

And oh, what a laugh it was.

“Villain reform?” she mused, voice curling with amusement. “Nah.”

She tilted her head, grinning into the abyss.

“Let’s go full evil.”

> [Ding!] Villain Route Activated. Good luck, Host.]




---

Villian Reform?! Nah let's go Full Evil.

🎵 "And beauty realized that she was the beast." 🎵

System Rule #2: Approach villains with sincerity, for trust is the foundation of redemption.

Eleanor's Rule #2: Loyalty is not given—it is taken.

Lucas Carter was still signing books, his signature scrawling elegantly across glossy pages. Fans buzzed excitedly around him, their eyes alight with admiration.

Standing in line wasn't an option. So, I did the next best thing—I waltzed right up to the VIP section.

His soul nearly left his body. He quickly stepped aside.

Lucas glanced up, mid-signature. "Oh? You're still here?"

I tapped my nails against the table. "Obviously."

He smirked. "Didn't take you for the type to collect signed books."

I leaned in, voice dropping just enough to unsettle. "And I didn't take you for the type to sell fantasies to desperate people, yet here we are."

"Flattering." He set his pen down and closed the book. "What do you want?"

"Meet me at the club," I said simply. "Tonight."

He raised a brow. "That desperate for a drink?"

I tilted my head. "That desperate for your cooperation."

Lucas chuckled, low and knowing. "How intriguing."

I turned on my heel. "Don't be late."

The night was in full swing. Music thrummed through the club, lights casting a seductive glow over the dance floor. Bodies swayed, glasses clinked, and laughter filled the air.

Lucas arrived exactly when I expected him to—fashionably late, of course.

He approached the VIP booth where I sat, his signature smirk firmly in place. "So," he drawled, "you dragged me here instead of that oh-so-important book signing. Let's hear it. What do you need?"

I lifted my glass, swirling the liquid inside. Then, without preamble—

Lucas stared at me. Then, with deliberate amusement, he leaned in, voice rich with mock curiosity.

"My, my. You came all this way… to confess?"

I blinked, then sighed, exasperated. "Not in the way you're thinking."

He arched a brow. "Oh? Then, by all means, enlighten me."

I leaned forward, smile sharp. "You are intelligent. Dangerous. Unpredictable. And, above all, capable."

"You are too skilled to waste away in petty schemes. Your ability to manipulate and destroy is impressive. I respect it." I paused. "Which is why I want you under my command."

Lucas blinked. "Under your what now?"

A full-bodied, rich laugh that made heads turn.

"Oh, sweetheart," he said, wiping a tear. "That's adorable."

I frowned. "It's not adorable. It's strategic."

"Oh, of course," he drawled. "You want me as a… what? Your personal attack dog?"

"If you prefer that phrasing, sure."

He leaned back, regarding me with newfound interest. "And what, pray tell, do I gain from such a generous offer?"

I smirked. "Power. Security. And, most importantly, survival."

Lucas tilted his head, studying me. His expression was unreadable—thoughtful, amused, maybe even intrigued.

Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I have to say…" His golden eyes locked onto mine.

"…You're not the Eleanor I met two years ago."

My smile remained, but something in my gaze cooled.

Lucas exhaled slowly, then—he grinned.

Chapter 9