The Villain’s Twisted Bargain

“Kill you? If I killed you, how could I still make use of you?” Allen’s signature villainous smile, tinged with a hint of malevolence, spread across his face, though deep within his eyes, a flicker of imperceptible calculation remained hidden. “Allowing you to live, Marianne, that is your true punishment.”

He took a step closer, his blood-stained fingers, imbued with an irresistible force, gently brushed across Marianne’s pale, delicate cheek, leaving a vivid streak of blood in its wake.

There was no particular significance to this act.

Allen simply found it amusing to mar a beautiful girl’s face.

Such was the way of a villain.

They reveled in pointless acts.

“What would you think, Marianne, if I told you that in other timelines, you’ve killed me dozens, even hundreds of times?”

Marianne’s breath hitched abruptly.

Her gaze fixed on Allen’s eyes, those bottomless black depths that seemed to hold an endless cycle of suffering, leaving her unable to discern whether his words were mere madness or the stark, unsettling truth.

“The past me is dead,” Allen’s voice was low and chilling, infused with a heart-stopping weariness and a touch of madness. “The Allen de Laval you see now is a nightmare, crawled forth from a terrifying dream.

Marianne, you have your methods of vengeance, and I have mine.”

He cast aside the confiscated noble longsword, which landed with a sharp clang.

Then, with his blood-stained hand, he forcefully swiped across Marianne’s other clean cheek, making the crimson smear even more glaring.

‘Ah, now it’s symmetrical. Perfect!’

As Allen defiled the pitiful little maid’s face with his blood, he spoke in a cruel yet resolute tone:

“I will not forgive what you have done, nor will you forgive the past me.

Yet, as things stand, we are bound together by fate.”

“If you leave me, losing the protective veneer of the Laval family, the Inquisition will never let you go, and the Cult will hunt you relentlessly.

And I? Without your presence as a buffer, I would be crushed outright by some ‘Phoenix Overlord’.”

The smile on Allen’s face grew increasingly twisted.

“The two of us are destined to be entangled, until death do us part.

This is my deepest torment for you—I will force you to continue ‘serving’ me, to live well right under my nose.”

Marianne’s gaze, fixed on Allen, brimmed with hatred and resentment.

Yet, within her crimson eyes, a few glimmers of a desire to live also flickered.

‘That’s more like it.’

‘You’re a cover character for the game. If you died, players would accuse “Starlight Serenade” of cover fraud and flood it with negative reviews…’

‘Wait, why do I care about the reputation of this lousy game?’

‘If Allen could go back in time, he would definitely write a hundred-thousand-word, blood-soaked negative review!’

‘This game has far too many villain death endings!’

‘Even villains deserve basic human rights, don’t they?’

While Allen inwardly grumbled about the developers’ malice towards villains, his actions outwardly demonstrated the just desserts of a villainous character.

He leaned close to Marianne’s ear, his warm breath, tinged with the scent of blood, caressing her earlobe like a devil’s whisper:

“Despite detesting me, you are forced to reveal your vulnerability… That look in your eyes, it brings me immense pleasure!”

Allen’s words were akin to pricking the young maid’s delicate heart with a feather.

Marianne’s body trembled violently.

She averted her gaze from Allen, her head bowed low, her wispy black hair obscuring her eyes.

Only her fists, clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white, betrayed her humiliation and struggle.

Finally, Marianne forced out two trembling words from between her gritted teeth: “…Scum.”

“Yes, I am scum,” Allen admitted frankly, even with a hint of self-mocking ease. “We both know that.

Therefore, to exact your revenge on this ‘scum,’ you must live on for me, and the longer the better.”

Allen’s tone shifted, his voice dropping even lower, like a viper’s hiss, precisely striking at the softest, most cherished corner of Marianne’s heart:

“Speaking of which, Marianne.

My ‘fiancée,’ Livia von Stern, the daughter of the Border Count, will be visiting tomorrow… You know her, don’t you? And quite intimately.”

Boom—!

Like a thunderclap exploding in her mind, Marianne’s entire body jolted.

She abruptly lifted her head to stare at Allen, her deep, pond-like eyes instantly filling with extreme shock and terror—a terror far greater than any she had shown in the face of death!

“Wh-why…” Her voice was shattered, as if her very soul were trembling.

“I am a villain, after all! All your secrets are laid bare before me.”

Allen watched with satisfaction as Marianne’s face instantly drained of color and her eyes filled with unconcealed panic.

A twisted sense of pleasure surged within him.

‘Tormenting Marianne and Livia, these tragic lily couples, was simply the ultimate delight!’

‘Allen was already a villainous young master; playing the role of an evil cuckolder would be effortless, wouldn’t it?’

‘Yuri destruction is also a part of yuri; one simply must savor it!’

“You two had a promise, didn’t you?” Allen’s whisper slowly eroded Marianne’s defenses. “Perhaps on a sun-drenched afternoon? In a meadow blooming with wildflowers? What a beautiful, what a pure promise it must have been…”

His smile held a cruel playfulness.

“But now, she will become my ‘fiancée,’ and you?

You are merely my little maid.

Your statuses are worlds apart; your beautiful promise was destined to be an impossible castle in the air from the very beginning!”

Marianne’s body swayed, her face ashen as paper, teetering on the verge of collapse.

Allen continued to twist the knife, precisely targeting the deep-seated inferiority and despair within her:

“You joined the Cult, endured the agony of implanting the False Mark, and acquired that twisted power, all just to bridge the distance between you and her, to someday stand proudly by her side, to walk abreast with her, wasn’t it?”

“Stop indulging in such unrealistic fantasies!” Allen’s voice suddenly rose, imbued with a chilling dose of reality. “I tell you, Livia’s crest talent is unprecedented!

She is a born star, destined to soar above the heavens!

And you, even if you gain that twisted power, even if you pay the price of your life, you will never even touch the threshold at her feet in this lifetime!

You and I are the same, Marianne, we are both mere mortals!

Face reality!”

“N-no… that’s not it… I… I just want to…”

Marianne’s spirit was utterly shattered.

Every word from Allen struck like a heavy hammer against the softest, most cherished parts of her heart, leaving her utterly defeated and incoherent.

The pillar of belief that had sustained her life seemed to crumble piece by piece under Allen’s relentless words.

“You just want to be with her? Impossible.” Allen ruthlessly crushed her last vestiges of hope. “Even I know that this so-called engagement between us is purely her political exploitation of my bankrupt noble family!

She is no longer the pure maiden you remember.”

“The cesspool of the Royal Capital, the rules of the nobility, have long since transformed her into a calculating monster, as ugly as myself!”

“No—!!!” Marianne’s tears burst forth like a broken dam. “She’s not like you! She’s my hero!

She… she said… she would come to save me… Look… hasn’t she truly come?”

She sobbed uncontrollably, her entire being drained of strength, collapsing softly to the ground.

Under the moonlight, she resembled a lily battered by wind and rain.

‘Hero?’

‘The hero in your heart is my nightmare!’

‘I’m not some little monster; why should I be killed by a righteous Ultraman?’

‘Just because I was set up as the villain?’

The mere thought of Livia instantly ignited Allen’s fury.

“In your most desperate days, when you were tormented and scarred by the past me, when you were swayed by the Cult, eroded by the False Mark, struggling and sinking in pain and darkness—where was your ‘hero’ then?

Perhaps she hasn’t completely forgotten you, but merely…”

Allen deliberately paused, then looked down at the broken girl on the ground and sneered:

“You, Marianne, are not as important to her as you imagine!”

“Nobles are precisely such ugly creatures; am I not the best example right before you?”

“Enough… please stop talking… I beg you…” Marianne curled into herself, burying her face in her knees, her shoulders heaving violently.

Realizing the little maid’s spirit had truly shattered, it was Allen’s turn to grow tense.

Completely destroying Marianne’s psychological defenses would, in fact, be detrimental to his plan.

‘Damn it, it’s all your fault, Livia!’

‘Because of you, I’ve brought my personal grudges into this!’

‘In “Starlight Serenade,” neither he nor Marianne had a good ending.

The two of them could totally found a ‘Phoenix Overlord Female Protagonist Victim Association’.’

United by shared suffering, Allen’s remaining resentment towards Marianne transformed into pity.

Allen knelt down and, unexpectedly, extended a hand, gently pulling the trembling, tear-streaked Marianne into his embrace.

Marianne’s body stiffened for a moment, yet she did not struggle.

She simply wept silently in his arms, as if needing to shed every grievance, every pain, every despair.

“I can help you, Marianne,” Allen’s voice was like that of a devil tempting mortals to fall, full of insidious allure. “And only I can help you.

I can make it possible for you to be with her.”

Marianne’s weeping abruptly ceased.

She looked up in disbelief, her tear-blurred eyes brimming with vulnerability and a faint glimmer of hope.

“But on one condition: you must obey me.”

Allen held up three blood-stained fingers, his tone unequivocal.

“First, you must not die.

Only by living can there be a future.”

“Second, you must not reveal your past identity to anyone.

Remain tight-lipped to Livia, to everyone.

Marianne, the head maid of the Laval family, is your entire identity now.”

“Third,” Allen gazed at the girl in his arms, so fragile and vulnerable, yet ignited by a faint spark from his words.

An evil yet redemptive plan began to coalesce in his mind.

“You must go and fulfill your promise.”

“Eh?” Marianne was utterly bewildered, her tear-filled eyes fixed on Allen, completely unable to grasp his meaning.

“I will no longer bully you.

From this moment on, our relationship will be that of ordinary, respectable master and servant.”

Allen’s tone held a peculiar serenity as he reached out, gently wiping away the tear stains from Marianne’s face.

“While Livia is still my ‘fiancée,’ please foster a good relationship with her, rebuild your bond.

Then, let her take you away from the Laval family, to live the life you once promised each other.”

Marianne stared blankly at him, as if listening to an impossible fairy tale.

“As recompense for this transaction between us,” Allen met her gaze directly, “you must ensure she protects me, protects the Laval family, and allows me to live.

It’s fair, Marianne; we each get what we need.”

Just then, a flash of insight struck Allen’s mind, a mind whose suspicious nature was carved into his very bones.

He hadn’t seriously considered his engagement to Livia before, but upon closer thought, this marriage was fraught with peculiarities.

Livia becoming his fiancée might not be a change in the timeline at all.

He finally remembered: the political marriage alliance between the Stern family and the Laval family had existed in every single cycle!

Livia von Stern had indeed been Allen de Laval’s fiancée, a setting never mentioned in the original “Starlight Serenade” but one that genuinely existed!

This was certainly interesting.

For what reason had the development team deliberately hidden this setting?

Allen de Laval was clearly a mere cannon fodder villain, yet the creators had specifically designed a thousand ways for him to die.

How could a simple plot device character warrant so much screentime?

‘Something’s wrong, very wrong!’

The original work had never explained why Allen harbored an almost obsessive fixation on Livia, to the point where he was riddled with death flags.

If, perhaps, Allen was not initially a villainous plot device but an important character connected to Livia, then his obsession would suddenly make sense.

‘Could it be that there was an internal grudge within the development team?

Did someone particularly despise Allen de Laval, not only deleting his storyline but also devising a thousand ways for him to die?’

If Allen’s conjecture proved true, then Allen de Laval was genuinely the most tragic character in the entire game, without exception.

Setting aside these external speculations for now, Allen’s engagement had come to naught in all previous cycles.

Yet, precisely this time, Livia intended to visit him of her own accord.

‘Why?’

Allen had dealt with Livia far too many times; he understood her personality intimately.

She was less like the protagonist of an otome game and more like a battle maniac who had wandered onto the wrong set.

Her pursuit of justice bordered on obsession, and her desire to defeat monsters, level up, kill, and seize treasures was no less intense than that of a male-oriented web novel protagonist.

Livia lacked the typical ‘love brain’ common to otome game heroines; her personality could even be described as asexual.

If players chose not to pursue a romance route, Livia would navigate the academy arc alone and then proceed directly into the single route.

‘The single route was the true essence of “Starlight Serenade”!’

‘The plot of this route could be summarized in just three words—’

‘Fight, thrill!’

Of course, this route also had a Bad End: if Livia continually betrayed the justice in her heart and made wrong choices throughout the story, she would ultimately *become a demon lord*.

Livia on the romance route was far less powerful than her single route counterpart.

Livia’s willingness to pursue an ordinary romance indicated that her maidenly persona had not yet been supplanted by the power-obsessed, fanatical one.

It was precisely for this reason that Allen intended to bring Livia and Marianne together.

Defeating normal Livia was already challenging enough; if she transformed into the power-crazed battle maniac of the single route, Allen wouldn’t have enough lives to spare.

‘Livia actively coming to visit Allen—did this mean she was currently still an ordinary maiden with romantic inclinations?’

‘It’s perfectly normal for a naive, sweet noble daughter to take an interest in her fiancé, isn’t it?’

‘If so, this was a tremendous stroke of luck for Allen!’

Allen couldn’t help but sneer inwardly.

‘Good luck?’

‘That damned woman has absolutely no interest in the weak!’

‘Naive and sweet?’

‘She’s a violent character who can smile while strangling cultists! She’s utterly disqualified as an otome game heroine!’

Allen recalled Livia’s persistent questioning from the previous cycle—

“Allen de Laval! What did you mean just now by… the cursed crest bloodline?”

She had been so agitated then, agitated enough to kill him.

‘Something is strange.’

‘Livia, could she, like me, retain memories of the cycles?’

‘Otherwise, how would she know there was a problem with the crest bloodline?’

‘If that’s the case… her purpose in visiting Allen… is it to test him?’

Allen suddenly understood.

Was her approach to the Laval family, her approach to him, also for Marianne? To pull her out of the Cult’s abyss?

Was Marianne’s complete liberation from the Cult not a crucial part of his plan?

If he could facilitate a Happy End for Marianne and Livia, would this world, this “script” revolving around Livia, cut him some slack?

Considering the possibility of Livia retaining her memories, Allen added to Marianne:

“Speaking of which, Marianne.

You might encounter some strange things during your interactions with Livia.

For example, you might find Livia deliberately playing dumb, pretending not to know you, or acting completely ignorant of your past promises.”

He watched Marianne’s eyes grow confused again, and explained: “If you truly encounter such a situation, please don’t be surprised, and don’t expose her.

She has her reasons for doing so.

Just cooperate with her, and play dumb yourself.

I just like to see her… hmm, getting all worked up for nothing.”

“You…” Marianne looked at Allen, her gaze incredibly complex, a myriad of indescribable emotions intertwined. “Why do you know even these things?”

She felt as though all her thoughts and secrets were laid bare before Allen.

This feeling of being completely seen filled her with terror, yet in her despair, a morbid sense of reliance also bloomed.

Almost coquettishly, she lightly thumped Allen’s chest with a weak fist, her voice tearful and carrying a hint of reproach she herself hadn’t noticed:

“Why… why are you… so gentle… at a time like this… even though… even though you’re such a scum…”

“Wait…”

Allen had no mind to savor Marianne’s flustered expression, tinged with both anxiety and the faint stirrings of being ‘conquered’.

He suddenly felt something was amiss.

So cold… a sluggish coldness permeated his limbs.

And… why did he feel nothing when Marianne struck his chest?

No pain, no itch, not even a clear sense of touch?

This could not possibly be Marianne ‘coquettishly’ hitting him; her body language still clearly conveyed resistance and struggle!

Could it be? The False Mark Knight’s ability wasn’t merely concealment… but—

Perception suppression?!

Allen belatedly lowered his head, looking at his blood-soaked clothes…

The viscous dark red had long since drenched the fabric, even pooling slightly on the ground!

The False Mark Knight’s ability had suppressed Allen’s pain and blood loss, but now, as its effect faded, the delayed agony and icy weakness instantly overwhelmed him like a tsunami!

‘What the hell!’

‘I actually… screwed up… in this place?’

‘Damn it! What kind of joke is this!’

‘It’s all your fault, Livia!!!!!!!’

“Marianne…” Allen was about to say something when the world before his eyes violently spun, all sounds rapidly faded, and darkness surged forth like a tide.

He couldn’t even utter a complete sentence before his body completely lost control, collapsing softly forward.

“Young Master Allen!” Marianne’s terrified scream echoed in his ears.

The anticipated cold impact of hitting the ground never came.

Instead, he fell into a soft embrace, carrying the faint, clean scent of soap—Marianne had caught him.

Marianne looked at Allen, who had instantly lost consciousness in her arms, his face pale as paper, his body rapidly losing warmth.

Her mind went blank.

The young master who had moments ago commanded everything like a demon, speaking cruel yet strangely redemptive words to her, was now as fragile as a broken doll.

Those words, those promises, those plans concerning Livia… how much of it was sincere? She didn’t know.

But she knew that this scoundrel of a young master, who had just spared her life and offered her an absurd yet hopeful path to survival, was now on the brink of death.

Fear instantly engulfed her mind, far more intensely than when she had faced his killing intent earlier!

“No… don’t die… you can’t die…”

Marianne’s voice was choked with sobs.

She fumbled, trying to press down on the still-bleeding wounds on Allen’s body, but didn’t know where to begin.

Those fatal wounds, previously masked by perception suppression, were now relentlessly devouring his life.

“Didn’t you promise… to help me…”

Why… why did she hate him so much just moments ago… yet now she was so terrified of losing him?

Was it because he promised to fulfill her pact with Livia? Or was it because… after seeing through all her wretchedness and despair, he still extended that twisted olive branch?

She couldn’t tell.

She only knew that she had to save him!

For that promise, for that possible future he spoke of, and also for… that nascent sense of responsibility within her, mixed with guilt, fear, and an inexplicable emotion.

“Someone—!!!”

Marianne used all her strength, clutching Allen’s cold, heavy body, and let out a heart-wrenching cry towards the brightly lit main manor.

Her voice echoed through the silent courtyard, filled with unprecedented panic and despair.

“Young Master Allen… is dying!!!!”