The Scum Villain's Self Saving System Novel Novels & Stories

And maybe it did. I stood in front of the bed, lifting my hand to touch Vincenzo, but it hung in the air. Vincenzo opened his eyes, looking at me with those cold, grey eyes. My blood turned to ice, it was like he was staring into my soul. He let out a yelp of pain. "Why did you save me, Scorpion? You should have just let me die! If you think doing this is going to make me snitch on my mother, you are wasting your damn time. Kill me now when you still got the chance, because if I get out of here, I will make it my life’s mission to kill you and all your minions."

I was beginning to think the man simply materialized in rooms, that he didn't travel between them so much as decide where to be and then be there. He was at the far end reviewing something on a tablet. He didn't look up when I came in. He had the ability to make not-looking feel like looking, which was a quality I was cataloguing with increasing attention. My first scene was the confrontation between the traitor and the villain. My character had been caught — not fully exposed, just suspected. The net beginning to tighten in the methodical way of someone very good at their work. The scene required the traitor to talk his way out, to stand inside the villain's scrutiny and hold still long eno

She hated the way everyone here was staring at her, it made her feel very naked and vulnerable, and then his own stares made her feel completely stupid and she felt her self worth dropping; guess she had to endure this for her mom’s sake as well. Suddenly she felt someone coming towards her, and suddenly hoping that it was Vincent, she turned only to meet the horrifying looking old man who stood there with a smirk on his face. Hello beautiful, I want to fuck you. He said simply and her eyes widened, and slowly her eyes moved to his pants only to see how hard he already was. She froze from what she had heard and saw, and then she took a seductive step closer to him, and whispered right to his

“Liam is a bully. I don’t like bullies.” “Mhm,” he rose to his feet and moved to stand near the wall of greenery. “You are a hero.” “Me?” I was astonished. “Oh, no. That’s Tarragon. She’s the hero. I’m just… me.” “No,” he turned back and offered me his hand. His palm was warm and calloused against mine and his arm strong as he lifted me to my feet. He smiled down at me and reached out to stroke a lock of my hair that had fallen free of its braid back behind my ear. “You are a hero. Every villain needs a hero, and you’re mine, Daethie. I think it’s safe for us to get out of here. What do you think?”

I used to be the cockiest rich kid in high society, but somehow I became the biggest simp in the whole circle. It was all because I was bound to a heroine conquest system. If I failed, I would be finished. To stay alive, I had no choice but to do everything Samantha said and constantly try to please her. Knowing I could give her anything she wanted, she took the sports car I gave her and went for a drive with her childhood friend, Charles Lindsey. Then she left me alone on the highway in the middle of a violent storm. "Samantha, my asthma is acting up. My medicine is in the car. Can you come back and get me?" She gave a cold, mocking laugh. I could also hear Charles laughing on the phone. "W

"Take your hand off the top of the system. The system isn't a cat, it's a system with code name 1712." The system escapes Sophia Marin's claws, going as far as possible to keep a safe distance from her. The system keeps a great distance as if she is doing evil affecting the system. "The system must have many interesting things like in the novel, right?" Reading many novels about such a system feels great. The heroine's golden hand is thanks to the system of reaching the pinnacle of life in all worlds.

"But you have no right to record our conversation and use it to manipulate me!" I let out an incredulous laugh and patted his chest. "I thought you were one of the youngest and most successful billionaires of our generation? Why does it seem like you lack common sense?" "What did you just say?!" I fiddled with his tie and smoothed out his coat before responding, "Mr. Scoville, in this world, everyone is cunning, sharp, and greedy. Everything can be evidence. Anyone can bite. Trust no one and question everything. Otherwise, you'll end up as the hunted, instead of the hunter– being the predator, you'll become the prey."

Oddly, it seemed like the name pleased him. "So Scar is a villain, I like that, I'm sure you know this by now, I love villains. I identify as one."

And that neglect had festered for years, rotting me from the inside. As I deepened my thoughts, my hands trembled violently. I reached for the glass on the table and smashed it against the edge, watching it shatter into glittering shards. My pulse thundered, and I pressed one jagged piece into my palm until blood welled, thick and crimson. The sting seared me alive, but the pain only sharpened my voice. “People call me the villain,” I hissed, staring at the blood dripping down my wrist, pooling on the floor. “But I am not the villain. I am the reckoning. I am the bitch fate never accounted for.”

My voice was a low, dangerous growl. A shadow moved behind a large, gray rock and a man stepped out. He was tall, but his body was twisted. He had a long scar that ran from his ear to his chin, making his face look like it was held together by string. He wore a coat made of mismatched furs—some dog, some wolf, some deer. This was Vane. The man who had broken my ribs and left me to die in a ditch when I was just a boy. He was the leader of the "Scavengers," a group of rogues who did anything for a coin.