𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

In Deep Shit

The cafeteria feels unusually empty, the few scattered students lost in their own quiet worlds. Classes are still in session, and Villain-sama and I are unapologetically skipping them. His hand rests lightly on the small of my back, fingers tracing idle circles against my shirt. He doesn’t look up, his gaze fixed on an open book in front of him—a book we both know he couldn’t care less about.

This is a performance, after all, and we both have our parts to play.

But my mind is elsewhere. Warning bells are blaring in my head like a fire alarm on overdrive. It’s been 45 minutes—no, 50 now—and still no message from Xavier. Not a word. Not even a single damn emoji. My phone, sitting just within reach, feels like it’s staring at me, daring me to check it again.

He’s just caught up in transport, I tell myself for the hundredth time. But my instincts are louder than my rationalizations. The media’s already plastered the Company all over the trending news cycle—headlines flashing like neon signs on every screen—and yet, silence from Xavier.

I feel Villain-sama’s fingers pause for a moment, then resume their hypnotic circling. His lips quirk up slightly, the faintest of smiles, but his predatory eyes don’t waver from their pretend study of the book. I force myself to focus, to breathe, to act normal.

"I’ll be right back," I say abruptly, gesturing towards the bathrooms. My voice is steady, but my pulse feels like a jackhammer in my ears.

Villain-sama lifts his gaze, dark and unreadable, before giving a silent nod. Then, surprisingly, his lips curve into a genuine smile. A rare one, warmer than the rehearsed ones he usually wears.

That smile makes my chest tighten in a way I can’t afford to examine. Instead, I smile back—small, tentative—and leave before I can give myself away.

The walk to the bathroom feels eternal, every step dragging out my anxiety. My hand hovers near my pocket, itching to grab my phone, but I force it down. No sudden moves. No slipping up.

Once inside, I check the stalls one by one. Empty. Thank God. I duck into the last stall, locking the door behind me. Finally, finally, I pull out my phone and press Xavier’s number.

The dial tone never comes. Instead, a robotic voice informs me that his phone is switched off.

My stomach drops like I’ve been punched. This isn’t normal. This isn’t Xavier.

I clench my phone tightly, fingers trembling as I navigate to my next option. The leader of the rogue scientists. If anyone knows something, it’s them.

I call. Again, no connection.

My chest tightens, cold dread washing over me like a tidal wave. This is bad. This is so, so bad.

I lean back against the stall door, staring at my phone as though it holds the answers. Something’s gone horribly wrong, and I have no idea what’s waiting for me on the other side of this unfolding nightmare.

Confused and disoriented—two words I never thought I’d use to describe myself—I stumble out of the stall, head down, lost in my own spiraling thoughts. I barely register the collision until I feel the solid weight of someone in my path.

“Sorry,” I murmur automatically, expecting them to step aside. But instead, I’m pulled into two strong arms, the embrace firm and deliberate.

“Careful there, love.”

My heart skips a beat, then drops into my stomach. I look up, and sure enough, it’s the one person I was hoping to avoid right now: Villain-sama.

His eyes hold that same unreadable intensity, but there’s something softer in his tone. Something that makes my skin prickle with unease.

“What are you doing in the ladies’ room?” My voice comes out higher-pitched than I intended, my nerves betraying me. I plaster a frown on my face to cover the rising panic. All I want right now is to disappear, to go home—not Faye's luxurious, old-money house or Villain-sama's posh apartment, but home. My world.

“You were taking too long. I was worried about you,” he says smoothly, his words as effortless as his charm. His arm stays firm around my waist as he steers me out of the bathroom. I don’t have to look at his face to know he’s lying. I’ve barely been in there five minutes, but Villain-sama always has his own agenda.

I glance up at him as we reenter the cafeteria, my nerves sharpening into unease. “Where are we going?” I ask when I see him grabbing both our books and stuffing them into his bag. My pulse pounds in my ears. I can’t face him right now. Not with Xavier’s silence gnawing at my sanity. Not when I might have to take matters into my own hands and track down the virus’s location myself.

“Classes are so boring today,” he says, his tone light but his voice carrying an edge that brooks no argument. “Let’s go home.”

I blink at him, stunned by his audacity, his complete disregard for the chaos brewing inside me. His words sound casual, but the firm grip on my wrist as he leads me toward the exit tells another story. Villain-sama doesn’t make requests; he makes demands.

And right now, I don’t know what’s scarier: the mess waiting for me if I don’t act quickly, or the predator walking beside me, whose motives are always just out of reach.

I rack my brain for an excuse to leave his side and make my way to the rogue scientists' lab to figure out what’s really happening, but my thoughts feel sluggish, as if some external force is blocking my normal brainpower. Ever since I came into this world, my instincts haven’t been as sharp, and it’s starting to mess with me.

By the time I snap out of it, we’re already in his car, the scenery outside blurring past. I blink, disoriented, realizing I’ve been so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t even notice the route we were taking. That is, until now.

We’re not headed to his apartment. My stomach tightens. Instead, we’re taking another road—a path I know far too well. A path he shouldn’t know exists. It leads to the rogue lab where I’d meticulously planned to destroy his precious zombie virus.

The realization hits me like ice water. I fight to keep my expression neutral, my hands resting casually in my lap, though my pulse is hammering in my ears. Slowly, I slide my hand to the door handle and give it a gentle tug. Locked. Of course it’s locked. It’s perfectly normal for a car to be locked, but right now, it feels like I’m a lamb in a predator’s den, and the wolf is already salivating.

Stay calm. Think.

I grab my phone and, with as much subtlety as I can muster, share my location with Assistant Uno. My message is short and to the point: Pick me up or report me missing if you don’t hear from me in 30 minutes. I hold my breath as I wait for a reply. Relief washes over me when his response comes almost immediately—a simple thumbs-up emoji. Somehow, that tiny icon feels like a lifeline.

“Are you waiting for someone’s reply?”

Villain-sama’s voice cuts through the tense silence, smooth and composed. My heart stutters. I glance at him, forcing my expression to remain indifferent, though my grip on the phone tightens.

“Not really,” I say, my voice deceptively light. Then, as if the thought just occurred to me, I add, “Did you know the company I was interning at got reported? They’re facing some pretty serious charges.”

I watch him closely, hoping for even the smallest flicker of surprise or concern.

“Is that so?”

His tone is maddeningly calm, as though I’d just mentioned the weather instead of dropping a bomb about his company. No shift in his posture, no change in his expression—just that same infuriating, unreadable mask.

My jaw tightens. Of course, he’s not rattled. Villain-sama never shows his hand. And yet, the fact that he’s driving me straight to the rogue lab tells me more than he probably intended.

He knows.

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