Villain's Odyssey: Enslaving heroines, Conquering Villainesses Chapter 2: Torment Begins

"Why didn’t they just sentence him to death?! He killed Sarah—he killed so many people, yet they just let him walk free?!"

Voices lded together in outrage as a young man walked down the hallway, his head bowed—not in sorrow, but in quiet acceptance. His hands hung limply at his sides.

Silver hair, shoulder-length and untad, veiled his eyes from the nacing glares cast his way. He wore a sleek, white long-sleeved shirt with a small chest pocket on the right. Black, slightly baggy jeans clung to his legs, paired with simple black shoes. He was leaving the Academy.

He had lost everything.

"I sll nepotism," soone muttered, though their glare remained sharp and defiant.

"That can’t be. I heard from my father that he’s been disowned by the Nevanas," another countered.

"That’s expected. He dragged their na through the mud. I’m surprised it took this long for them to cut him off," soone added with a scoff.

"But that doesn’t an they have no hand in his freedom. Disowned or not, they wouldn’t let soone who once bore their na die a pitiful death," another voice chid in.

"Maybe. But still, there’s no concrete evidence that he actually—"

"Just shut up. Finish that sentence, and I dare you to get caught in the fallout," soone snapped, silencing the previous speaker.

"He’s the only suspect. He tried to kill another student, for crying out loud," soone else said, their voice thick with disgust. The young man they were talking about didn’t react. He seed immune to the murmurs that echoed around him, or perhaps... he just couldn’t hear them anymore.

Slowly, surely, he was losing his grip on reality.

"That’s enough to get expelled, but not prosecuted. They need more evidence for that. Bastard’s just lucky," another spat bitterly.

Suddenly—

He stopped.

His gaze fell on a pair of shoes blocking his path. Eyes trailing upward, his breath hitched as he took a step back.

"Ansley," he muttered, his eyes locking with the last people he wanted to see right now.

"I knew you couldn’t be trusted from the start," ca the venomous voice of Aden—the third prince. Stepbrother to Isabelle. A bastard he’d been at odds with since childhood. "I knew you were trash. But I didn’t know you were this much of a monster. You killed hundreds of students. You killed your own kind!"

"I... didn’t kill anyone," he muttered. Then looked Aden dead in the eye. "Auston is still alive."

"Well, that much is true," ca another voice—Ethan, the son of Duke Vincent, a noble of high standing. "But that doesn’t change the fact that you compromised the system. You caused those deaths. You’re the reason Angelica is fighting for her life."

Azalea didn’t even bother replying. What was the point? They were never going to believe him. Maybe that’s why Isabelle hated him now. Angelica—her twin. Well, fuck her. He didn’t care what she felt. Not anymore.

He felt...

Nothing.

That suffocating, gnawing feeling in his chest?

It was gone.

He didn’t care.

Not anymore.

Even if she stood in front of him now, he would’ve walked past like she was a stranger.

After all, this wasn’t the first ti he’d felt betrayed.

Not in this life.

Not in the one before.

A person he once trusted more than himself...

"I’m ashad we once shared the sa na. That people used to call you my brother." The contemptuous voice belonged to Ansley—his stepbrother.

One of the very people, like Ashley, that he would’ve gladly sacrificed his life... if it ant he could inflict upon them the worst pain imaginable.

They had made his childhood a living hell.

He stared directly into Ansley’s eyes. There was only one emotion left within him.

Hate.

Only hate.

Nothing else.

Pure, undiluted hate.

But he sighed.

Then turned and walked past them.

However—

"Where do you think you’re going?" a voice asked, followed by a hand gripping his wrist.

"Let go, Aden," he said calmly. He was weak. He knew that. If they decided to beat the hell out of him right now, he wouldn’t be able to fight back. And truth be told... he didn’t care.

"Not gonna happen, Az. Not until I put you in the sa condition as my Carlla."

"So that’s what this is about. Prince Simp," he muttered.

Then—BAM!

He was slamd against a locker. The young man pinning him there wasn’t even trying to hide his fury.

"Let. Go," he muttered.

"You bastard! She called you her friend! She always defended your pathetic ass! And this is how you repay her?!" Aden scread, his fist glowing with ether as it punched into the wall just beside his head, hard enough to crack it.

"Argh..." he grunted. Blood dripped from the back of his head, and the world tilted as dizziness set in.

’Carlla...’ he thought faintly.

She was the only one who hadn’t tried to beat him to death.

But that was probably because she was in the infirmary.

If Isabelle could slap him in front of everyone—could nearly kill him before being restrained—then Carlla would be no different.

Andrew.

Leon.

Castor.

His "bros," as they used to call each other...

Even they didn’t look at him the sa anymore.

"Let go..." he muttered again.

"Or what?" Aden growled, his fist drawing back. "Or what, you fucker?!"

Crack!

A punch to the face this ti. Everything blurred. Darkness swallowed his thoughts for a brief second before he regained sothing resembling clarity.

But by then, he could barely see.

"Beat him up. I want him crippled," soone said.

And then—

He was plunged into a world of pain.