Young Master's PoV: Woke Up As A Villain In A Game One Day Chapter 133 The Time We Committed Arson!

"Well, then, I'll get going," Michael said as he spun around to leave.

But just right then, I patted my pants as if searching for sothing lost in my pockets.

Then, my eyes widened.

"H-Hey, Michael," I called out.

He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Can I borrow your phone?" I asked, trying not to sound embarrassed.

Michael tilted his head. "What?"

"I—I think I misplaced the keycard to this room," I admitted. "Must've lost it sowhere."

"So?" He turned fully to face . "Just call the Residential Assistant."

"He's out," I said with a slight shake of my head. "And I can't call anyone… because my phone is in my bedroom."

Slowly, Michael's lips curled into a smirk. Then that smirk widened into a full-on grin.

"Oh, would you look at that!" he sneered. "And you were the one calling dumb a few monts ago! Haa!"

I pressed my fingers to my temples. "Are you going to help , or are you just going to be an ass about it? I really need to be sowhere."

He let out a mocking laugh.

"Fine. I'll help you. I'll even open the door for you right now." He paused, relishing the mont. "But first, you have to admit it."

Experience tales at My Virtual Library Empire

"...Admit what?"

"That I'm smart."

My brows shot up. "You're taking advantage of when I need help?"

"Yeah, I learned from you," he said smugly. "Besides, I'm not even giving you a bad deal. As I said, I'll pay you double what you spent on that sword."

I let out a forced breath while rubbing the back of my neck.

Looking around as if mulling it over, I eventually clicked my tongue in resigned frustration. "Okay, fine. But not twice, you'll pay four tis the price of that sword. Considering you're taking all my Essence Stones, it's worth it."

Michael blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just open the door. I'm in a hurry." I waved my hand dismissively, like the whole thing didn't matter anymore.

He narrowed his eyes skeptically but then grinned even more triumphantly than before. "Alright, say it then."

I shook my head. "Unlock the door first."

"...Fine." He strolled up to the keycard lock mounted on the wall beside the door. "You know, I could gloat here, but I won't. Because unlike you, I'm a nice person."

"Right, 'mister nice person.' Just hurry up," I said, tapping my foot impatiently. "And be ready to pay up."

Then, as he fiddled with the lock, I frowned. "What the hell are you doing anyway?"

He gripped the card swipe lock's fra and pulled it off with a tug. "Every electronic lock — keycard or biotric — has a point in its circuit. Trip it, and it opens."

As he spoke, he exposed the circuit beneath the panel and pointed at a small wire before yanking it free.

A faint beep sounded. The indicator light flickered from red to green.

And with a satisfied smirk, Michael pushed the door open.

"If you were smart like , you'd know that," he gloated, despite claiming he wouldn't. "Now, say it."

I sighed theatrically and stepped inside. "Fine. Just give a minute."

Michael frowned, following in. "No, say it right now."

I waved him off and walked to the living room. "Yeah, yeah, just hold on."

"Samael, stop stalling. You lost. Just admit it already and hand over the sword and Stones." He stepped in after , growing impatient.

I nodded absentmindedly to shut him up, then started opening doors, peeking inside each room, closing them back, and moving on to repeat the process.

Finally, I got to the bedroom, threw the door open, and headed straight for the wardrobe. Without any hesitation, I began pulling out piles upon piles of clothes from inside it.

"Here, hold these," I said, shoving an armful of those clothes into Michael's hands.

"Wha—?! What the hell are you doing? Just admit you lost and move on!"

"I will. Just give a minute."

Michael was about to argue again when he suddenly stopped, his gaze sweeping across the room.

The room was massive with a luxurious four-post bed as big as a boat.

The walls were decorated with tapestries and posters in shades of pink, the ceiling lights shifted between soft hues, and plushies sat on the shelves like collectibles.

Michael's frown deepened. "Wow, uh… Samael, I'm not judging, but your room is way girlier than I expected."

"Thank you," I said, shoving even more clothes into his arms until they nearly overflowed. So were everyday cotton, others fine linen, and so velvet soft to the touch.

Then, I led him across the living room and into the guest bathroom.

"Wait here," I said before disappearing.

When I returned, I had even more clothes in my arms and a decanter in my grasp.

"What are you… doing?" Michael asked, his voice wary.

Ignoring him, I began tossing the clothes into the massive bathtub before us. Then, I popped the lid off the decanter and took a sip.

The rum inside it tasted worse than the scotch I was used to drinking.

With a grimace, I shook my head in disgust and poured the rest of it over the growing pile of fabric in the bathtub.

Michael's expression shifted from confusion to sothing closer to fear. "Samael… what the fuck are you doing?"

"Wrong question, Michael," I said, plucking the clothes from his arms one by one and adding them to the heap.

"Okay, you're wasting ti! Just admit you lost! Why won't you admit it?!" His voice rose in frustration.

I shook my head again. "Wrong question."

Before he could snap at , his eyes landed on the next piece of clothing I took from his hands.

A pink brassiere.

His face went slack. Then his gaze dropped to the pile of clothes in the tub.

Panties. Skirts. Sumr dresses. Gowns. Lingerie.

There were so n's clothes too — shorts, trousers, vests — but overwhelmingly, there were far too many won's outfits.

Michael's face twisted in horror. "Oh, god! Whose rooms are these?!"

I smiled and gave him an approving nod. "Now that's the right question. See, Michael, when a door is locked and soone doesn't have the key, it usually ans they're not supposed to be in there."

"Why the fuck—" His voice cracked as his panic escalated. "Whose rooms are these?!"

Instead of answering, I summoned a Card. A fla arrow materialized in my hand almost instantly.

Michael's eyes went wide. "Samael, don't—"

I lowered the arrow. And the mont it touched the rum-soaked clothes, flas erupted.

Orange and hungry, the fire crackled as it spread, licking at silk and linen with a burning greed.

Thick black smoke curled upward and heat swelled against our skin.

Michael stumbled back, eyes wild in alarm. "Samael! What the fuck are you doing?!"

I dusted off my hands, tossed the last of the clothes and the decanter itself onto the fire, and turned to him with an easy smile. "Winning."

For a second, he just stared at , uncomprehending.

Then the realization hit.

"You—" He choked on his words, glancing between and the growing inferno. "Oh, you son of a bitch!"

I nodded approvingly. "Correct. Now, let's review what just happened."

Michael clenched his fists. "You're insane. Do you even realize whose room this is?!"

"Of course I do!" I gestured at the burning pile. "This is Thalia's dorm, in case you hadn't figured it out. Princess Alice and Prince Willem also live here… for whatever reason."

Michael inhaled sharply, his entire body tensing. "Y-You are burning the clothes of royalty?! Samael, that's arson! Are you trying to get us both killed?!"

"Killed? No. Expelled? Maybe." I shrugged. "But let's be real. If anyone's getting expelled, it's you."

His head snapped toward . "What?!"

I took a leisurely step toward the door. "Think about it. Right now, you're standing inside Thalia's apartnt, surrounded by burning evidence. You broke in. The security is going to trace the lock override back to you. The lock had your fingerprints all over it, after all."

His breath ca sharp and shallow.

He scanned the bathroom, frantically searching for an escape, a loophole — anything.

Then, slowly, his face twisted into a mix of fury and… begrudging respect. "You… set up. You fucking lied."

"That's what manipulation is, Michael." I leaned against the doorfra, arms folded. "Oh, and… I never lied. That's the best part. I never said this was my place. And I really did leave my phone in my bedroom."

His jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might crack. The firelight flickered in his eyes as his mind raced.

"Now, do you see the problem?" I asked. "You underestimated . You lost. You didn't control your emotions. Your ego made you easy to exploit. Your arrogance made you vulnerable to sothing this simple. You may be strong, but strength alone doesn't win battles — especially not when your opponent is playing you instead of the ga."

He had nothing to say to that.

So, I continued.

"Now, let's go over our little ga's rules." I lifted a finger. "One — you had to make admit you were smarter. Didn't happen. In fact, you're even dumber than I expected."

Michael's eye twitched.

"Two — I had to manipulate you." I lifted another finger, gesturing to the very incriminating situation he was now in. "Well… mission accomplished."

I spread my arms. "And three — if neither of us won outright in two days, you still would've won. Except, well… I won. So, that's that."

Michael sucked in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. "You smug, conniving—"

I held up a hand. "Ah, ah, ah. Just say it, Michael. Two little words."

He glared daggers at , but he knew he was trapped.

He could fight . Hell, he could probably take in a physical match.

But this wasn't a battle of fists. It was a battle of wits. And in this arena, I had him dancing on my strings.

Finally, after a long, seething silence, he ground the words out through clenched teeth. "You. Won."

I grinned, stepping aside. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it? And I can gloat, but I won't. Because today, I have also decided to be a nice person."

Michael shoved past , frustration radiating off him like heat from the flas.

Smoke was already thick in the bathroom, making it hard for us to breathe. We coughed as we made our way toward the exit.

Then, I paused. "Oh, and one more thing."

Michael shot a warning look. "What?"

"We're sticking to the original deal. And if we get caught, I'll take all the bla. This is non-negotiable," I said through a few coughs.

Michael stared at , breathing hard.

He looked like it physically hurt for him to accept that he'd lost to . "No. I still propose changes to the original deal. I want all two thousand Essence Stones and the books I'll ask you for from the archives. That's also non-negotiable."

The look in his eyes told this ti he wasn't bluffing.

I rolled my shoulders. "Fine."

He lingered in shock as if he expected to retaliate a little. "Wait, what?"

"I said fine," I repeated. "I accept your terms."

"Just like that?" He squinted. "You're seriously handing over all your Essence Stones just like that—"

Then, another realization dawned upon him and his expression darkened. "Wait… you have more Stones than you told , don't you?!"

I nearly laughed.

"Yes," I admitted, grinning ear to ear. "I have around six thousand. You could've asked for more. So here's another lesson – if a deal seems too easy, don't take it."

Michael pald his face, visibly restraining himself from strangling or jumping into the fire himself. "I'm going to fucking kill you one day."

"You can try," I said cheerfully. "But first, we should leave before the smoke detectors kick in. I an, I live here. What's your excuse for being covered in soot?"

Michael glanced down at himself, then cursed. "Fuck!"

With that, we both bolted down the hall as the smoke flooded Thalia's apartnt behind us.

And that… was the ti we burned the clothes of literal royals.