I Can Be The Villain Mga Nobela at Kwento

the queen asked. "I don't think how I feel is of any importance." Evena answered. The queen laughed out loud. "You are very funny, aren't you Evena? The first thing you will learn here in Salvatore is to be polite. Now, let me rephrase my question, how do you feel about being here to serve me? And remember, don't lie because I will be able to tell." "I wasn't planning on lying. I hate it here in Salvatore, vampires make my skin crawl. I especially hate the fact that I am going to serve an heartless murderer like you." Evena replied bluntly.

It was clear everyone had been fixated on Marcel, but at his declaration, all focus was on Celia. All her life, she was the girl with the weakest presence in a room. The one no one noticed, and when they did, she was viewed with pity or disgust. Now she was the mate of a werewolf who killed their Alpha. A werewolf who dominated other packs. A villain, undoubtedly. Hadn’t things just become worse for her? “Move,” Marcel instructed Sheeva, but she didn’t obey. “Move,” he said again, his eyes glowing this time. Sheeva trembled, doing her best to fight against the intimidation that came with Marcel’s unbelievable power.

I was sick of this game. “I’m grateful I didn’t inherit your ambition. I won’t ever turn my children into pawns in this horrendous game for power. Not Daniele, not Simona, not Gabriel.” I touched my belly. “Because they all are my children, and I’ll fight everyone like a warrior to protect them of the horrors of this world, even if they come in the shape of my own parents.”

I’d be the villain. But I’d be the kind of villain who outlasted them all.

But the power I’d found here—power I’d carved out for myself—was mine to keep. And maybe, just maybe, so was Matteo. And if there was one thing I’d learned, it was this: the world would always cast me as the villain. So why not play the part—and win?

A chant not for her, but against her. “Villainess. Villainess. Villainess.” Seren’s stomach turned to ice. They weren’t wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She had just hijacked the heroine’s story. Kael leaned down, his breath hot against her ear, his voice pitched only for her: “Let them chant. A villainess…” His thumb brushed the line of her jaw, possessive and reverent. “…is far harder to forget than a saint.” The System hummed in satisfaction.

"Annabeth, please don't hit me. I won't tell Mom. Please. I'll give you all my money. Don't hit me. Don't burn me. I'm scared…" As she moved, Yvette accidentally exposed the burn scar on the right side of her face. It was grotesque and horrifying. The viewers caught it instantly, and the comments section went wild. "Does Annabeth have some kind of sick kink?" "Is she threatening her? Yvette looks like she's been abused since childhood." "Is she trying to scare both of them into backing down?" "No way! They can't back out now. Take it to the Supreme Court. Go all the way. Annabeth deserves to die!"

That there was no longer any way I could deny it. ...I was living inside the last werewolf novel I’d read... but I wasn’t the protagonist of this story. I was the villainess.

Viviana scolded softly, "Victor, stop doing this. Scarlett clearly didn't mean it. You owe her an apology." Victor pressed his thin lips into a flat line and looked at Viviana with a complicated expression. "I know exactly what kind of person Scarlett is. Viv, you can't keep being this kind." "I can't be at your side forever. If an enemy means you harm, you have to learn to tell for yourself." [Textbook villainess! Grabbing every chance to hurt the heroine!] [The male lead has his guard up. With him around, her little schemes are useless.] Looking at the comments, remembering how I had just been dreaming of going to see the sea with Victor, I couldn't help a self-mocking smile.

Elara's steps slowed without her permission. She knew who he was. Everyone in the kingdom knew who he was. Lord Kael Draven. The Black Villain. The man they said had burned three villages to ash without blinking. The man they said could not be killed, though no one could explain why. Guards spoke of him in low voices. Children were warned never to look him in the eye. And above his head, glowing faintly through the rain, was a number. 0 DAYS. Elara stopped walking entirely.