THE PERFECT VILLAIN: Another chance with a system
Chapter 38: Faceless

Chapter 38: Faceless

The next morning, Vael stepped out of the motel he’d rented the day before. Morning sun washed over him, blinding him for a moment before his eyes adjusted.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch — four gold coins left inside, one already spent on a month’s rent. That should buy him enough time to work his way into the upper class, or at least the middle, before he started tearing it down.

He stepped off the motel’s pavement and moved into the streets of Warstone.

---

He paid his old home a visit first. When he arrived, workers moved through the garden, tending it. The house itself looked well kept.

Like Cael’s, every hero’s home in Warstone rivaled a noble’s estate, and his had been no exception.

He stopped a foot from the property and stared at it, confusion creeping across his face. He’d expected the place to be ruined by now, handed off to some noble family — instead, there wasn’t a single sign of neglect.

As he studied the building, a young man approached from the garden, deep blue hair, dressed in fine attire — clearly someone of standing here.

"Are you looking for someone?" the man asked.

"Oh, no. Just wondering what happened. I’ve been out of the kingdom for six months and only just got back. I expected the place to look different after... the execution," Vael replied casually.

The man extended a hand, and Vael took it. "Lloyd. I oversee the maintenance of this house."

"Sir Lloyd. Niel — B-rank adventurer." Vael’s gaze drifted back to the house. "Could you fill me in on what happened?"

Lloyd’s eyes followed his to the house. "Frankly, nothing’s changed since then. Sir Aurelian still betrayed us, but the heroes petitioned the king to keep the house maintained — said that whatever he did in his final days, he’d saved lives before that."

"And the king agreed?" Vael asked, letting a note of displeasure creep into his voice.

Lloyd glanced back at him. "I’m as unhappy about it as you are, Niel. The king only agreed on one condition — the heroes cover the full cost themselves. They accepted." His gaze drifted back to the house. "Honestly, if the pay weren’t so good, I’d have burned the place down myself. That scum doesn’t deserve to be remembered."

"I see," Vael muttered, almost against his will. The heroes were the ones slowly rewriting the story. The king, the church, the people — they still clung to their absurd version of it, even now, even with everything laid bare.

Vael offered a polite bow. "Thanks for clearing that up. For a second there, I thought they’d cleared his name."

"Cleared him?" Lloyd spat. "How would they clear a traitor? If anything, they should’ve kept him alive, tortured him and his family until the pain killed them. That’s a fitting punishment for a traitor."

The words landed like a blow. He’d once given everything to these people. He’d fought a dragon for Warstone while the rest of the heroes scattered across the world. His wife had been days from giving birth, and still he’d left her side to save the same kingdom that would later brand him a traitor and slaughter his family. He’d wounded that dragon so badly it fled to the mountains, and the fight had cost him dearly enough that he lay unconscious for days — missing the birth of his own child while his wife wept, praying he’d survive.

All of it discarded, as if none of it had ever mattered to them. How could they treat him like that? He looked up at Lloyd and forced a bright smile. "Well, thanks for the information. I’ll get going now."

Lloyd nodded and turned back toward the garden. Vael watched him for a moment before heading into the city, one thought settling firmly in his mind. This kingdom wouldn’t get a quick death like Velroth’s. He’d give it exactly what Lloyd had suggested — long, and painful.

---

Vael wandered deeper into town until he found a local restaurant. He stepped inside, ordered the spiciest dish on the menu, and waited. Moments later, a young man brought it out, and Vael dug in without hesitation.

The spiciest thing on the menu turned out to be merely decent to him — bland compared to what he remembered, though still better than the rest of the food humans served. He’d barely started eating when a thought crossed his mind.

If he wanted to become a real problem for this society, he’d need an alter ego. A name. If he intended to be a world-class threat, he needed to claim a title for himself before someone else pinned one on him that he’d hate. And names, once they stuck, stuck hardest at the start.

As he ran through possibilities, Claire chimed in.

Claire: Would you prefer your current title, Lord of Deceit?

No, not good enough. I need something more iconic, memorable — something with teeth.

Claire: What about Demon of Disaster?

Can we drop the "of" titles? I want something sharper. More immediate.

Claire: What about the Perfect Villain?

No. That’s a goal, not a title. You’re usually better at this — you hand out titles for evolutions all the time, don’t you?

Claire went quiet for a while as he ate. Then, after a few moments, she spoke.

Claire: Faceless.

Vael’s spoon froze mid-air. A small smile tugged at his lips.

Perfect. That’s perfect.

He let out a quiet laugh, then went back to his meal. Just like that, they’d settled on a name the world would come to remember — and fear. Faceless.

---

Soon he stepped out of the restaurant, heading back toward the motel. Midday had already come and gone, and he still hadn’t covered everywhere he wanted to check. Nothing, it seemed, had really changed since his execution.

As he walked down the street, a voice called out behind him. "Sir Niel!"

He didn’t recognize it. He turned to find a man in a black robe, a golden cross splitting it into four sections. He knew that robe on sight. The Church. For a brief moment his mind scrambled, wondering if the real Niel had some tangled history with them before settling in Velroth. A problem he’d thought he’d already handled threatened to resurface. Then the man reached him and spoke.

"You’re Sir Niel, right? The one who went out with the hero yesterday?"

"Yeah, that’s me," he replied, relieved this wasn’t trouble from Niel’s past. "Something wrong?"

"Not at all," the man said, smiling. "Sir Cael recommended you to the Church, and I’ve got good news for you."

Good news, Vael thought.

The Church’s influence rivaled the king’s, the Supreme Saint sitting at its head, and a recommendation like this one could easily thrust someone into the spotlight — exactly the kind of attention he wanted to avoid, for now. Still, he knew the safer play was to go along with it, so long as he didn’t climb too high in their hierarchy. He should still be able to slip back into an ordinary life when he needed to. He looked at the man and asked, "What’s the good news?"

Without hesitation, the man answered. "The Supreme Saint has requested your presence."