THE PERFECT VILLAIN: Another chance with a system
Chapter 3: TRUTH

Chapter 3: TRUTH

Before Nevis could reply, the black flames shot through his head, killing him instantly.

Notice: New titles acquired—Demon Killer. Nemesis.

"Oh, you’re keeping tags? I couldn’t care less, though."

Vael looked back at the headless body on the ground. He immediately recalled Nevis’s shock at his use of the black flames.

"Claire, isn’t the black flames part of demonic arts?"

Notice: Negative. The black flames are a unique skill.

"Oh, I really didn’t know that. Could you give a notice whenever I acquire one? It’d be a pain if I use one in a scene that requires me playing along."

Notice: Affirmative.

Vael looked back at the body. He ought to bring it along, but the distance was far, and he had already exhausted his Teleportation skill. His only choice was to haul it back himself. He hoisted the body onto his shoulders and set off.

---

When he finally reached Erna’s chamber, he dropped the lifeless form onto her doorstep with a dull, heavy thud. The sound echoed down the hall, and a moment later, the door creaked open.

"Vael, what are you—" She paused, seeing the body on the ground.

She stared at the body, unable to comprehend how he had located Nevis so quickly. Looking up at Vael, her eyes burned with an intensity that threatened to tear the answers straight from his mind if he didn’t explain. Instead, she was met with a calm, untroubled expression.

​"I found Nevis, as promised. I’ll leave him to you. Do as you please." Without waiting for her reply, Vael turned and walked back toward his quarters.

​Behind him, the doorway remained silent—no footsteps, no door swinging shut, nothing. It was obvious she was still processing everything, and he couldn’t help a quiet smile.

​He had barely walked a short distance when his gaze drifted up to the crimson moonlight. It was truly breathtaking—and the first time he had ever taken it in fully.

The Demon Realm had a large crimson moon during the day and a purple sky at night. The only source of light was lightning flowing through the clouds.

He couldn’t tell if it was the first taste of victory that sharpened it, or if the night itself had simply reached its peak — but he stopped walking to look at it properly, something he hadn’t done since he’d woken up in this body.

As soon as he reached his door, he stopped and looked at the moon one more time.

Soon, I’ll return to the human world. But for now, this will be my first playground.

He walked into the room and headed for the hot spring in his chambers. He took off his clothes and entered the spring. Halfway through, he noticed a scar on his side—a sharp X-shaped cut. It looked like it spread a little further on its sides.

A birthmark?

He wondered briefly for a moment. Then the memory arrived whole — the slashes, the swiftness of the blade, the panic of it. His hand shot to his side and clutched there, fingers pressing hard into skin that had already healed. He held his breath until it passed. Then, a face surfaced behind his eyes—the wielder of the blade—Aurelian Veritas.

A small smile touched his lips as he fully relaxed in the spring.

I actually did that. A coincidence?

He stopped, if only for a fraction of a second.

Or was it planned from the start?

He reached for it, touching it gently. It was smooth, with no sign of a scar without looking at it.

—And I thought he died then. Well, he’s dead now.

He relaxed fully in the water, letting himself feel the warmth. Moments later, he rose out of the spring.

Only then did he notice the young male demon close to the spring. It was Langer, his attendant.

Was he there when I entered?

Vael walked out of the spring, and Langer handed him the towel without uttering a word.

"Langer, how long have you been waiting here?"

"Not too long ago, my lord. You sent me to the east, and I have just returned," Langer replied.

"East, you say?" Vael’s hand paused on the towel, still gripping the edge of it. He took a moment to recall why he had sent Langer to the east ward. Suddenly, the memories came rushing back—and a face he recognized from moments ago.

It all clicked into place. The flame demon he had put down wasn’t just a random demon—he had been sent. He was the liaison to the human. He was the traitor all along.

His grip on the towel didn’t loosen for three full seconds. Then his hand finished the motion it had started, wrapping it around his waist as if nothing had interrupted it at all. He didn’t utter another word—he simply headed to his private room.

"How silly," he giggled as he reached his room. "Who would have thought?"

He shut the door behind him and laughed until his shoulders shook — long enough that he had to brace a hand against the wall. He had twisted facts in less than a day since he transmigrated, and he had obtained success on his first threat, entirely by accident.

He laid back into his bed with only a towel wrapped around his waist, staring at the ceiling. He thought to himself:

The Demon Realm has seven Demon Lords, and each one has a faction. I am the child of a Demon Lord—one of the twenty Demon Lord heirs. Six have been killed by humans, and seven have been murdered by demon rivalry, leaving only seven more. Well, six now.

From now on, I should be more careful. It would be better if I don’t actively participate in murder.

He looked at the sky from the window, where the moon had begun to fade and a dark shade of purple slowly covered the heavens.

"Tomorrow will certainly be promising."

Vael muttered to himself as he closed his eyes.

---

Somewhere in the castle, Erna stood by a slab. On it lay Nevis’s body, bare. Her fingers tapped on the table, once, twice, then stilled altogether.

She looked toward the doorway, then back at the corpse. Her fingers found the edge of the table again and pressed flat against it, as though she meant to hold it still. For a long moment she didn’t move at all.

Then, quietly, to no one:

"Something isn’t adding up."