𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

Series Of Blunders

I never thought the day would come when I’d admit this, but I miss the bee system.

Not because I feel some twisted nostalgia for it—no, let’s not go there. But right now, I’d give anything to have its infuriating red book of rules in my hands. Or better yet, a PDF I could scroll through. Was that really too much to ask? The thought makes me want to slap my forehead.

I need answers. What happens if I leave this world right now? Am I even allowed to? Or worse, could I… die to escape? Would that even work, or would the system punish me for trying?

The virus is gone. The mission is technically complete. It’s late, one of those nights where the air feels heavier, dragging you down with unspoken thoughts, and we’ve just arrived at Villain Sama’s apartment.

My head is a mess. Questions swirl in endless loops—confusion, frustration, and a nagging sense of unease. I want clarity, but Wilde seems hell-bent on doing anything except giving me that.

Not that I’m surprised.

My nerves are still raw from earlier—the fiasco at the lab is a memory I’d very much like to delete from existence.

It plays in my mind anyway, uninvited.

It all started as Wilde was leading me out, his grip firm, as if I were a flight risk (which, to be fair, I was absolutely considering). And, of course, in my rush to leave the lab alive and intact, I forgot one very important thing.

I didn’t tell Uno I was safe.

I’ve made my share of blunders since arriving in this world—more than I’d care to count—but this one might take the cake. Because just as we were stepping out into the quiet night, we were greeted by an unexpected sight: Uno and an entire team of bodyguards.

The man himself strode forward like he owned the place, exuding charisma in a way that immediately commanded attention.

I’d never met Uno before, but he wasn’t what I’d imagined. Dressed in a simple white tee and cargo pants, he shouldn’t have been anything remarkable. But somehow, he was. His presence was magnetic, a quiet authority that made the world seem to pause for a moment.

For the briefest second, I wondered if he was actually a main character in disguise.

Then again, almost anyone could outshine Caden. Let’s be real, the man’s only redeeming quality is his trust fund.

Uno approached us with calm, measured steps, his gaze sharp and assessing.

“Miss,” he said smoothly, offering me a polite nod, “I’m Uno. I came to ensure your safety.”

His tone was perfectly neutral, but Wilde’s reaction was anything but. I felt his hand tighten on mine—a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes.

Wilde saw Uno as a threat.

Great. Just what I needed.

I could almost feel the tension crackling in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife. Deciding not to fan the flames, I ignored Uno’s extended hand and kept my reply curt.

“I’m fine. Sorry for not informing you earlier. I’ll talk to you later.”

Uno’s face didn’t betray any offense, but the faintest flicker of amusement danced in his eyes as he withdrew his hand. My top priority was to end this embarrassing fiasco as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, Wilde’s gaze burned into the side of my face like twin laser beams. His presence loomed, radiating silent authority and irritation, but I refused to meet his eyes. I didn’t need another layer of tension to deal with.

The moment stretched unbearably long before Uno gave a slight nod and retreated with his team, his demeanor unshaken. The contrast between his composure and Wilde’s palpable irritation wasn’t lost on me.

I exhaled once they were gone, though the unease in my chest remained. The storm was over, but its effects lingered—and I had a sinking feeling this was far from the end of the chaos.

Back in the present, I’m seated on the couch, my foot tapping impatiently against the floor. A mental list of questions is ready to fire, and there’s no way I’m letting Wilde off the hook tonight. I need to know where I slipped up—purely for future reference, of course. It has nothing to do with the curiosity gnawing at me like an overzealous cat.

Wilde, meanwhile, is in the kitchen, moving around like we didn’t just stop the apocalypse he himself orchestrated. Pots clink and pans sizzle, and while I want to be annoyed at his casualness, the sounds bring an uninvited sense of calm. It’s a routine I’ve grown used to over the past two months—a fragment of normalcy that, despite everything, soothes me.

He steps out of the kitchen, balancing two plates as he begins setting the table with the ease of someone far too comfortable in his role. My guilt flares. Sitting around like a lazy sloth while he does all the work feels wrong, especially after everything that went down today.

So, I force myself up and join him, grabbing the plates and cutlery, even if the frustration simmering in me hasn’t entirely dissipated. When I place the plates, it’s with a little more force than necessary, the clatter echoing my mood.

Frowning, I keep my head down, silently fuming at the universe, at my failure, at him.

But then I hear it—a warm chuckle that slices through the tension like sunlight breaking through a storm cloud.

I glance up and find Wilde watching me, his usual mask of indifference nowhere in sight. His gaze is soft, his expression open, vulnerable even, and his eyes... They’re windows to something I wasn’t prepared to see.

Adoration.

No, not for me. For the body I’m inhabiting.

He loves Faye Lozero.

“When did you find out?” The question escapes before I can stop it.

“So impatient,” he murmurs with a teasing smile, moving back toward the table to finish setting it.

Of course, I’m impatient. I have five days left. This man is infuriating.

I raise an eyebrow, silent but pointed.

He sighs, a sound of resignation, and moves with purpose around the table, placing the final pieces of the dinner setup. I follow behind him, two steps back, like a shadow waiting for its moment.

“When you first approached me,” he starts, voice measured, “I thought it was to rile up Caden. I didn’t mind playing along because, frankly, you were entertaining.”

A soft chuckle escapes him, and though I bristle at his casual tone, I stay quiet. This part I already guessed. He wouldn’t be the Villain if he couldn’t see through at least some of my intentions.

“But then…” he pauses, his brow furrowing as if he’s sorting through memories, piecing together fragments. “I saw the way you looked at Caden—disgust, plain as day. Faye would never—”

He cuts himself off, his expression faltering. For a moment, he looks almost… lost.

Then, as if pulling himself back to the present, he continues, his voice steadier now. “The Faye I knew would never go against the Lozero family. She was too loyal. Too predictable.”

His movements are precise, practiced, as he pulls out a chair for me and gestures for me to sit. When I do, he gently pushes me in, his hand lingering on the back of the chair for just a second too long.

It’s not over. I can feel it in the way his gaze lingers, the unspoken words hanging heavy between us.

And for the first time in this mission, I wonder if I’m the one who’s underestimated him.

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