Note: This is the continuation of the Epilogue through Medea's perspective and the final part of the side story.
***
The memories came unbidden, sharp, and vivid like shards of glass cutting through my peace. For a moment, the warmth of the present faded, replaced by the cold, unyielding darkness of who I once was.
I was Medea then. Not Lycoris. Not someone reborn, remade, or softened by time. No, I was a devil in every sense of the word—a villainess carved out of ambition and desperation. The Underworld had been my throne, and chaos had been my crown.
The sound of chains rattling echoed through the dimly lit throne room, a symphony of fear and submission. I sat atop the onyx throne, my fingers lightly tracing the sharp edges of the armrests. The weight of the crown of thorns pressed against my head—not physical thorns, but a crown made of the choices I had made, the lives I had taken, and the power I had seized.
Before me knelt a trembling angel, his wings torn and broken, their once-pristine feathers now drenched in the ash and soot of the battlefield. His defiance was admirable, even if misplaced. He glared at me, his golden eyes burning with disgust.
"You're nothing but a monster," he spat. "A destroyer of lives. A devourer of hope."
I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand as a wicked smile played on my lips. "A monster?" I echoed, my voice a velvet whisper that carried across the room like the hiss of a blade unsheathed.
"Perhaps. But monsters, you see, don't lie about their nature. They don't wear false halos or promise salvation they have no intention of giving. I, at least, am honest about what I am."
He struggled against his chains, the sound of metal scraping against stone filling the air. "You revel in destruction. You thrive on chaos. You are evil."
I stood slowly, the soft click of my heeled boots on the marble floor silencing the room. My crimson cloak billowed behind me as I descended the steps toward him, each movement deliberate, each step calculated.
"Do you know what I see when I look at you?" I asked, my voice soft, almost tender. "I see a being blinded by their own righteousness. Someone so certain of their morality that they cannot comprehend why they've fallen to their knees before me."
I knelt down, bringing myself to his level, and cupped his chin with a single hand. He flinched at my touch, but his eyes stayed locked on mine, hatred burning brightly.
"I was not born a devil," I whispered, my tone laced with something darker than anger—something more dangerous. "I was made into one by a world that chose to vilify me when I refused to bow. You call me evil because I refused to play the role of a pawn. Because I chose to wield power rather than cower beneath it."
The angel faltered, his breath catching, but he said nothing.
"Let me tell you something about power," I continued, standing and looking down at him. "It is neither good nor evil. Power is truth. Power is the ability to shape the world as you see fit. And those who have none—like you—are the ones who curse it."
I turned away from him, my cloak sweeping behind me as I ascended the steps back to my throne.
The devil, they say, is the villainess. But the truth? I am no villain. I am the reckoning they invited when they failed to see their own darkness.
***
As the night deepened, I felt the words flowing between us with a surprising ease. Caelus and I spoke of the world we now inhabited, the lives we had constructed from the ashes of others, and the experiences that had shaped who we were. Yet, beneath the surface of every sentence, there was an unspoken tension—a weight carried across lifetimes, simmering and undeniable.
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The Devil Is The Villainess (✔)
Fantezie❝Life is a game, and power is the prize.❞ Lycoris radiata was known as the devil, the most fearsome being in the modern world. However, one fateful night, she underwent miraculous transmigration into a romantic novel, awakening within the dying body...
