When I Finished Playing the Terminally-Ill Villainous Omega C3

Chapter 3

I scoured the entire mansion. My breath lodged painfully in my throat from running without rest, and a fever that had barely subsided seemed to be rising once more. Even in an emergency like this, this frail body of mine was nothing but a burden.

Why had it only now occurred to me that even if I evaded the mission, there would always be someone else in this family to play the villain in my stead? I had always known the Hestian house was the soil that would cultivate Locke into a ruthless emperor.

Damn it. Where on earth did they take him?

Now I understood— merely changing myself would not alter the story. In that case, why not twist the narrative entirely, using the future I knew? If I could minimize conflict between Locke and the family, perhaps the Hestian household’s end could be rewritten.

And to do that, I had to separate Cassian and Locke.

Cassian was unhinged. He frequently did things no sane human would, and at times, he committed acts so deranged one questioned whether he was human at all. One of them was releasing the servants into the mountains whenever our parents were away— to hunt them with a bow.

I never knew— I rarely left the mansion. I only learned of it after Locke disappeared, through whispers of servants speculating why he had fled. It was then I heard Cassian was the one who had blinded one of Locke’s eyes.

The sky was already painted with evening hues.

In the distance, Éclat’s coachman was pulling the carriage from the stable and bowed to me when he noticed. I hurried over.

“Did you happen to see where my brother Cassian went?”

The coachman’s eyes darted nervously.

“So you did see him.”

“W-We lowly servants… one wrong word and we lose our heads, milord.”

I removed one of the rings from my finger and handed it to him. There was nothing clearer than material incentive.

“I won’t say it was you. I promise.”

The coachman hesitated only briefly before glancing toward an old stable now used as storage.

“Filthy little rat!”

Cassian’s cutting voice echoed from inside.

“You know what the real problem is? That ugly face of yours.”

I peered through the door crack. The interior was dim, and the stench of rot stung my nose.

By a feed trough where rainwater had collected, Cassian forced Locke’s face into the foul water, pressing down hard on the back of his neck.

“….”

Locke wasn’t responding— perhaps already unconscious. Cassian, seemingly infuriated by the lack of reaction, drew a dagger from his belt.

“Where shall I cut so that disgusting face becomes fittingly ruined?”

He yanked Locke’s hair up and grinned.

That madman.

Knowing full well a mission window might appear if I faced Locke, I still burst through the door.

“Brother!”

I seized his wrist just as he swung the dagger down.

“What?”

Rage flared across Cassian’s face.

He was the kind of frog who leaped higher the more one tried to hold him down— if stopped, he became all the more eager to torment. But then I realized— Éclat would be boarding her carriage right about now.

“Why are you still here, brother?”

“And why does that matter to you?”

His temper seemed far worse than before my regression— or was it just my mood? I forced my thoughts away and pressed urgently,

“Éclat is about to leave!”

“What? Already?”

At her name, his demeanor flipped instantly. A good sign— with just a little more nudging, I could get him away from here.

“With this lack of delicacy, brother, you will pine in one-sided love forever.”

By the time he reached the mansion, she would already be gone. I planned to feign innocence later: “I told you to hurry, didn’t I?”

“Damn you…”

Cassian gave Locke one last kick for good measure, and I grabbed his arm desperately.

“Hurry, or the carriage will leave.”

He straightened his clothes, clicked his tongue about how lucky Locke was, then slammed the door and stormed off.

I rushed to Locke.

“Are you alright?”

He wasn’t fully unconscious— or perhaps he had just regained awareness— for he slowly lifted his head.

Even soaked in filthy water, his beauty remained intact; if anything, the tragedy only made him look more striking.

He rubbed his brow, likely bruised from hitting the trough.

“What in the world— …hah.”

“You’re hurt? Let me see— ugh!”

The putrid stench hit me. The water had clearly rotted. I reached out with my sleeve to wipe his face, but Locke suddenly gripped my wrist with a stiff, wide-eyed expression.

At his feet, a whip lay tossed aside beside a crushed red rose. Seeing it, I assumed the trauma of Cassian’s cruelty had made him instinctively fear even my hand.

“Brother truly has a vile temper.”

I picked up the whip and flung it away.

“Can you walk?”

For a moment our eyes met. Locke stared at me without blinking— his gaze burning with fury. My body curled in on itself instinctively. His amber eyes alone made my knees weak.

Just days ago, his gaze wasn’t like this.

His rage toward Cassian had been redirected to me.

Look at that. If I hadn’t come, what would have happened?

Had Locke’s face been scarred— Cassian would have had his head lopped off before he even realized he was dead. The memory sent shivers down my spine.

I sat down— not too close, just far enough that even a reflexive swing wouldn’t reach me. Only then did I feel safe.

Despite sitting more than fifty centimeters away, I still felt compelled to help. Hesitantly, I extended my hand.

Locke stared at my awkwardly floating hand, then let out a short, incredulous laugh through his nose.

Once, before his return as emperor, he had lived cowering beneath us. Yet now he scoffed. Had he struck his head too hard? Or was my sudden friendliness absurd to him after all the torment?

“I-I was trying to help. Why are you laughing…?”

“And why are you here… now of all times?”

Did he mean I came too late?

“You can’t stay here. Brother— Cassian may come back. Let’s talk outside. I’ll help you walk.”

“Why would you help me?”

“…Huh?”

“You despise me, do you not?”

“What?! No, I don’t hate you!”

Startled, I forgot to be wary and shouted back.

But I meant it— not once had I hated him. I only followed the missions because I wanted to survive.

Locke stared silently, surprised. And soon I realized how ridiculous my claim sounded. Who would believe the person who tormented them didn’t hate them? I wouldn’t, if I were him.

Suddenly— crack. Something snapped under Locke’s hand. A twig, perhaps. I flinched and bowed my head reflexively, like a criminal awaiting punishment.

I may not have known him before transmigrating, but here, our statuses differed like heaven and earth. And I had seen him as emperor— my body remembered who he could become.

“I—I’ve been too harsh with you, haven’t I? I had a reason. You know I don’t have long to live, don’t you?”

Shameless excuses spilled from me breathlessly.

“I’m… emotional lately. Anyone would be— not knowing when they’ll die. Losing weight, growing hollow-eyed. I keep getting uglier, and you… you keep getting stronger and more handsome. I guess I got a bit jealous.”

I am so sorry!

The excuses wouldn’t stop.

Even after my rambling, Locke remained silent. He simply twitched the corner of his lip, rubbed his neck, and clicked his tongue quietly.

The unfamiliarity of that expression unsettled me. Then I noticed the scrape on his neck, and quickly fetched the jade ointment jar from my robe.

“Brother did this, didn’t he? Let me see your neck.”

Inside was a pale yellow salve.

Now that I no longer obeyed the system, whenever a severe mission appeared, I glanced at my heart counter and chose refusal. The penalty was seizure and injury— thus the medicine my mother had commissioned from an imperial healer.

I dipped my finger into the ointment and reached toward his neck—

Only for Locke to jerk back like I was some crawling insect.

“Have you gone mad?”