I Enrolled as the Villain Chapter 5: Evelyne Valery

"When I grow up, I’ll grow a pair of wings.

So no one will ever look down on again.

I’ll be the hero with the most beautiful eye in the world

an eye that sees through all lies, all pain.

A world where no one has to be sad.

A world where no one is treated like a god.

Just... people.

Just kindness."

"And... the end!"

I grinned wide. No one would expect such an incredible masterpiece to be written by .

Clutching the thin book to my chest, still warm from my hands, I bolted out of my room.

The mansion’s cold, polished halls echoed my footsteps. I passed painting after painting all the sa: eyes, more eyes. This eye, that eye.

Ugh. Boring.

"Hey, you!" I called to a passing servant.

He turned, bowing quickly. "Yes, young lady. How may I assist you?"

"Where are Mommy and Daddy?" I asked, bouncing on my toes.

His smile didn’t change, but there was a pause.

"The Lord and his Consort are attending an event for young Lord Kael, young lady."

Before I could stamp my foot, a loud noise echoed from outside.

I peeked out the window and saw him — Kael.

Draped in fancy white robes, a delicate, translucent veil over his face. He wasn’t walking. He was being carried, floating like a prince.

Mom and Dad were with him. They looked so proud.

They didn’t even notice I was watching.

"That’s not fair!" I yelled, stomping down the hall.

Rules be damned. If they wouldn’t co to , I’d go to them.

I pushed past the big doors and ran toward the shrine.

My little shoes slapped against the stone floor, echoing through the vast hall.

The ceremony was silent. Everyone knelt. Candles flickered. Soft music played.

Kael sat in the center, glowing and perfect — like so storybook prince.

My stomach twisted.

"Hey! I wrote sothing too!" I shouted, holding up my little book. "Why does he get everything? Why not ?"

All eyes turned.

Mom froze.

Dad stood abruptly.

Kael didn’t even glance my way.

Soone grabbed my arm a servant, maybe but I yanked free.

"Look! I wrote a story! It’s good! Read it!"

But nobody did.

Not even Mom.

They just... stared.

Not angry, not like when I knocked over vases or yelled at the cooks.

Different. Worse.

It felt like I’d stepped on sothing sacred.

Sothing I could never understand.

And then, sothing inside snapped.

I ran.

My feet thundered across the marble, scattering flower petals. Candles tipped, wax splattered, a delicate glass offering shattered beneath my heel.

Guards moved to stop — but hesitated. Like chasing here would be sacrilege.

I didn’t care.

I grabbed one of the golden cups filled with ceremonial dye and flung it.

Bright red splashed across the pristine white floor, staining Kael’s robe, the altar, the flowers.

I reached for another

But a hand seized my wrist.

Tight.

I froze.

Looked up.

Daddy.

His shadow fell over like a storm cloud, blotting out the sunlight.

"Daddy, look at . I—I wrote a..."

I held up my thin book, trembling but hopeful.

He didn’t smile.

"Evelyne Valery Kaezel."

His voice thundered across the garden, louder than the ceremonial bells.

"You disgrace not one, but two bloodlines."

I blinked.

My hands dropped an inch.

"You’re not a Valery. Not truly. No Valery child would disgrace this house like this."

Before I could speak, he snatched the book from my trembling hands.

The soft tearing of paper filled the silence.

With all the weight of judgnt, he flung it.

The little book spun through the air, pages fluttering like broken wings, and landed in the still waters of the ceremonial pond near the green field.

Frozen, I stared.

My words.

My wings.

My dreams.

Soaked and sinking into silence.

I didn’t cry. Not yet.

I just stood there, watching the ripples spread.

The book didn’t float.

Its paper wings darkened quickly, ink bleeding out like they were being erased page by page.

Behind , the ceremonial guards stood rigid unsure whether to look at or the High Lord.

No one moved.

No one helped.

My tiny fingers curled into tight fists.

"...It had magic," I whispered, barely audible.

My father said nothing.

"It had a world where no one had to bow. Where no one got left behind," I said louder, voice trembling.

"I wrote it for you. I thought if you just read it—"

"Enough."

One cold word.

I flinched.

Without another look, I turned and ran not to the halls, not to my room but toward the pond.

My shoes slipped on the stone path, but I didn’t stop.

I reached the water’s edge, knelt, and stretched out my hand.

Too late.

For a brief mont, sothing flickered in my reflection —

a golden flare in my eyes, like two small suns trapped behind tears.

No one noticed.

Not my father.

Not the guards.

Not even .

Maybe if I broke it, they’d see instead of him.

—

From that mont, I gripped the sword like it was my pen.

My hands bled raw, ugly, unfit for ink.

But I didn’t let go.

I held the blade tighter, until the cold steel hilt beca the only warmth I had left.

My eye bled once a thin streak trailing from the corner, sharp and warm.

I didn’t flinch.

That was the cost of training a Lumigan before its ti. And I welcod it.

A servant approached, footsteps soft against the stone floor. He bowed low.

"Young lady—"

"Address properly," I snapped. My eyes glinted golden, sharp. Lumigan, Stage One.

He hesitated, then lowered his gaze. "Forgive ... Ma’am. I was sent to inform you that you’ll be representing House Valery at the upcoming World Summit. Since Lord Kael is deed too fragile, he cannot attend."

So in the end, I was the second choice. No surprise.

I turned, lifting the sword again heavier than before, but mine.

"Fine," I said quietly.

I’ll show him.

—

"So the World Summit has started..." I muttered, watching as empires tried to smile while counting the swords hidden beneath their robes.

"I sat beside my father, Kaezel Valery, watching the center of the vast silver chamber where the world’s leaders gathered — seated in a perfect circle. Kael sat quietly to my father’s left.

—

Zaric, Pri Minister of the small but fiercely independent nation of Belvenia, rose from his seat.

"We demand a comprehensive review of the Tier Classification System," he said sharply. "It is archaic, outdated and worse, it favors noble bloodlines. You call this fairness?"

Emperor Willhelm Artoria Valkcross of the Valkcross Empire didn’t rise.

"The Tier System isn’t biased," he said coolly. "It’s calibrated. Bloodlines shape potential. We simply acknowledge what nature has already given."

Chancellor Malakar of the Keshar Dominion leaned forward, armor creaking.

"Bloodlines, my ass. Valkcross nobles pump themselves full of dungeon trash and relic fus just to scrape into Tier Four then preach about destiny like they were born gods. Don’t talk to about nature. You built a damn ladder, painted it gold, and called it divine."

Chairwoman Elene Dais, head of the Hero Association of the Elaron Federation, raised a hand.

"Enough," she said diplomatically. "The world watches. The Tier System was designed to unify classification across all Awakened. The Elaron Federation upholds the Hero System a rit-based track built to support non-noble Awakened. But even we can’t ignore how skewed the numbers are becoming."

A silence followed Elene’s words. Not agreent but unease.

Zaric rose again, voice louder now.

"One of our citizens," he said, silencing the room, "was born Tier 1. Poor. Unremarkable. No noble na. No inherited blessing."

"And now?"

"He stands at Tier 5."

Murmurs rippled across the room.

"The System recognized it. No noble ties. No ancient blood."

He turned toward Valkcross.

"What does that say about everything you claim to be?"

—

Zaric’s words lingered in the air.

I watched from my seat, lips tight, spine straight.

Across the chamber, the elven delegate remained still, her pale features carved from silence. Not even her lashes flickered.

The dwarven envoy, thick-browed and weathered, tapped one callused finger on the armrest. Once. Twice. Then stopped.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

The Council Chair cleared her throat.

"As previously scheduled, the Awakening Evaluation will now comnce. The youth selected by each delegation will step forward not to prove dominance, but to demonstrate the future we all share."

Polite applause followed. Thin. Formal. Mostly for show.

—

I rose before anyone asked.

Eyes turned.

Even my father tilted his head, as if mildly surprised.

But I didn’t wait for permission. I walked down the platford steps not with arrogance, but precision. A blade in motion, quiet and clean.

The others sent their chosen. Nervous children. Noble heirs. So barely thirteen.

I barely noticed them.

They lined up. The showcase was monts from beginning.

Then I stepped forward.

Clearing my throat, I pulled a small folded page from my coat — my speech.

I looked at it.

Then, without hesitation, crushed it in my hand.

"Screw the paper. I don’t need this anymore."

My voice rose, cold and clear.

"Leaders. Emperors. Generals. Pretenders."

A pause. Sharp, deliberate.

"You sit here smiling while asuring children like cattle. You talk of Tiers, bloodlines, destiny as if power belongs only to those born into it."

My gaze swept the room, steel in my eyes.

"Let’s stop pretending. This isn’t a showcase. It’s a spectacle a carefully staged performance to prop up the idea that strength is inherited, not earned."

I stepped forward.

"I’m Evelyne Valery Kaezel. And despite the burdens of blood and expectation, I stand here to remind you all that potential can’t be chained to a na."

A beat.

"So watch closely."

I turned, hands behind my back like a soldier.

"And try not to blink."