I Am The Game's Villain

Cleenah had first seen him when he was just a little boy.

Barely eight years old.

At the time, she hadn't given him much thought—why would she? He was just another child, running around, pulling pranks, and laughing without a care in the world. But fate had a way of drawing attention to people we'd otherwise overlook. And in his case, it was what she discovered about him that made her notice him at all.

He wasn't the only interesting child in the class. There was another—an unusual girl who had joined just recently.

She was different.

She stood out not only because she was new but because of her striking appearance. Her hair was the brightest shade of blonde, so light it shimmered like white gold under the sun. Her delicate features and quiet demeanor only added to the attention she attracted. But it wasn't just her beauty that made people stare.

She was blind.

On top of that, she struggled with English. Her accent was thick, the words hesitant on her tongue, betraying the fact that she had only recently arrived from Norway. Her father, British. Her mother, Norwegian. A divorce had left her in her mother's care, and now, she had been placed in this class—a foreigner in every sense.

And the children were not kind.

The girls mocked her hair, whispering behind her back and giggling at its unnatural creamy brightness. The boys mimicked her accent, exaggerating her words cruelly. No one approached her. No one sat with her. She was alone.

Still, she wandered the schoolyard with a small, hopeful smile, her cane tapping gently against the pavement. She would hear groups of girls chatting and walk toward them, eager to introduce herself—only for them to scatter as soon as she got close.

She tried the boys next.

They weren't just dismissive—they were cruel. Some pushed her, making her stumble. Others hurled insults before running off, laughing.

Despite being blind, she wasn't deaf. She heard everything.

And yet, she kept smiling. Kept telling herself that maybe tomorrow would be different. That things would get better.

But a week passed. Then another. And nothing changed.

Until one day, something did.

"Hey! Nyr! Look! She's walking with a cane like an old man!"

A young boy turned toward the voice. He had messy black and bright, curious green eyes.

Nyr glanced at his new classmate.

Until now, he hadn't really cared about her—or maybe that wasn't entirely true. He had been watching, observing her in silence, taking note of how the others treated her. But he had never spoken to her. Not once.

This time, he chose to.

Not out of kindness.

But to make the others laugh.

A grin stretched across his face as he strode toward her. Then, without warning, he shoved her.

"Ah!"

The girl stumbled forward, falling onto the ground along with her cane.

A few of their classmates snickered.

Nyr put on an innocent, apologetic tone. "Ah, sorry!"

She hesitated, lifting her head and looking around, trying to pinpoint his voice. Then, instead of frowning or lashing out, she simply smiled.

"It's fine," she said softly.

For a brief moment, Nyr stared at that smile.

Something about it caught him off guard.

Before he knew it, he reached out and grasped her hand, pulling her up.

"Here, stand."

"Oh, thank you," she replied gently as she accepted his help.

He already knew her name, but he asked anyway.

"What's your name?" Nyr asked even though he knew it already.

The girl's smile widened. "Naomi."

Was it fate?

Cleenah, watching from a distance, thought so.

It had to be.

For these two to stumble on each other after so many years...

After that, Cleenah had been observing Nyr for a long time, drawn to the story of his life, to the moments that shaped him—the worst ones.

She had seen Naomi's accident.

She had watched as Nyr changed. The once lively boy had become silent, withdrawn, a shell of his former self. By the time he entered middle school, he barely spoke. And when another accident happened… when betrayal followed… he was left even more isolated.

Yet, through it all, his family remained his anchor. His parents, always there. His younger sister, fiery and stubborn, the one person with whom he could still be himself.

Then high school came.

And so did Curtis.

For two years, that boy made Nyr's life hell, tormenting him in every way possible, driving him toward something between depression and an eerie numbness. And yet, his sister remained by his side, supporting him.

She was the only one who knew.

Not even his parents were aware of the bullying—Nyr had kept it a secret.

But then… he lost them too.

His sister. His parents. Gone.

Not an accident.

Murder.

Cleenah had seen what happened in that wrecked car.

Blood stained Leon Grimlock's fists. Tears streamed down his face—not of sorrow, but of rage. His body was battered, bruised, barely holding together. But he wasn't in the driver's seat.

He was in the passenger seat, teetering between consciousness and oblivion. He also seemed drunk, forcefully drunk by someone.

"Gladys… she kept crying your name, you know?"

A voice snickered in the dimly lit truck.

Leon's vision was hazy, his mind sluggish, but he struggled to focus, to see the man behind the wheel.

"I should have killed her and you right after you took my eye," the man continued running his hand on his right eye freshly stabbed. "But I thought keeping you alive would be much better, you see…Do you know why, Leon?"

He asked, but no response came.

"Because living will become worse than death for both of you."

He chuckled sadistically.

"Every time you fuck her, Gladys will remember my face—when I violated her. And you…" He sighed, almost in ecstasy at the thought. "You will live with the fact that you couldn't do anything about it. That you won't even be able to comfort her."

"...!" Leon trembled.

"Love and affection are truly useless emotions. You should just discard them and focus on getting revenge~"

The man said shifting his gaze ahead, his remaining eye narrowing with sick delight at the sight of the car in front of them.

A family of four sat inside.

The two children in the backseat bickered playfully, their parents watching with fond smiles.

The man's lips curled into a smirk as his gaze settled on the father at the wheel.

"By the way do you know why you won't be able to even comfort her, Leon?"

The man's eye widened in delight as he pressed his foot on the throttle.

"Because…" He licked his lips. "You're going to jail, Leon."

Then, in the blink of an eye, he vanished from his seat.

Leon's sluggish mind barely registered the movement before his eyes flicked to the car ahead.

He reached out—his hand grasping awkwardly at the wheel—but it was too late.

-CRASH!!!

The explosion tore through the night, engulfing the car in a hellish inferno.

By some miracle, Nyrel was thrown from the wreckage, barely surviving the blast. But the others—his parents, his sister—were burned to a crisp.

Cleenah watched the scene unfold in silence.

Time rushed forward.

Leon was arrested.

Then, shot by Nyrel.

Leon died from his injuries later.

Nyrel was taken into juvenile detention, branded both a criminal and a psychological case—a boy who had lost everything and, in his grief, tried to kill a man.

A year passed.

Finally, he was released. Free from constant surveillance, he could finally attend college.

And there, he met Ephera.

Cleenah's gaze shifted.

Ephera. The woman who had changed him.

Because of her, Nyrel slowly began to open up. He stopped caring about the opinions of others. He let go of the suffocating weight of the past.

She had molded him into the person he was meant to be.

Unfortunately… a few years later…

Cleenah watched that scene.

Ephera's death.

A blade pierced her chest. Blood pooled around her, yet… she smiled.

Her trembling fingers reached up, brushing against Nyrel's cheek.

"I… I love you…"

Her voice was soft, fragile—her last words before her body collapsed into the garden.

Nyr let go of the knife and held Ephera close to him.

He whispered something to her.

At that time, Nihil appeared.

His face was twisted in shock.

Time rushed forward again, years flashing by in an instant.

Until the moment Nyrel stood before him—the one who had sent him to another world. To Eden's world.

Everything had been leading to this.

A carefully orchestrated plan.

To change Samael's vision.

It would be slow. Painstaking. But with Cleenah, Nevia, and Nemes, it was possible.

Because Nihil's plan wasn't to kill Samael again.

That would be pointless. His twisted followers would only bring him back and Nihil wanted Samael alive back to his previous self.

That was why Nihil had chosen something far more effective.

A slow, inevitable transformation.

So that Amael and Samael would merge.

And from that fusion, a new man would emerge—one devoid of hatred.

Cleenah, Nevia, and Nemes had all accepted Nihil's plan—but each had their own motives.

Cleenah wanted to stop Lucifer.

Nevia wanted vengeance against Eden's rule.

And Nemes wanted Samael back. Not the kind one. Not the one Nihil envisioned. She wanted the Samael who had died filled with hatred and wrath.

Yet, as the months passed, both Cleenah and Nevia began to change.

Because of Edward.

He was as much a victim as they were—perhaps even more.

Nevia had been certain that Edward would one day rise against Eden. But now, she was no longer willing to force him onto that path. Instead, she chose to protect him, to lend him Fate rather than control him.

As for Cleenah… her change came just as swiftly.

She had known Nyr since he was a boy. She had known his true identity, his true purpose. And yet, when the time came, she couldn't bring herself to use him for revenge.

No. She wouldn't.

In the end, Cleenah may have been the first to truly share Nihil's goal—not in turning Amael into Samael, but in something far more profound.

She wanted to give Nyr his freedom back.

Not as Nyr. Not as Amael.

But as Edward—a man who carried all of Nyr's memories, all of his emotions, and yet was finally his own person.

After everything he had endured, Cleenah could not accept Nihil's plan. So she worked in secret, setting events into motion.

For the past two years, she had planned with Sylvia, sacrificing everything—her life, her very existence—to bring about the only future she could accept.

And she didn't care about the cost.

She had lived long enough, seen more than enough. If nothing else, she wanted to do one thing for Nyr—the man he was meant to become.

Because somewhere along the way, what she had once felt for him had evolved.

Not for Amael. Not for Samael.

But for the man who struggled.

The part of him that fought to understand who he truly was, the part that clung desperately to the belief that he was Amael—a selfless, altruistic man.

Cleenah knew the crisis raging inside him.

That inner turmoil wasn't just because of Amael's presence. It was because of everything—his past, his pain, his very existence.

But Cleenah didn't care about Amael.

She cared about him.

The man who, despite betrayal, despite unspeakable hardship, had stood back up—again and again, stronger than before.

And she knew he would do it again.

Just as Ephera had once helped him on Earth, Cleenah would help him in this world.

And then, at last, she could leave.

With a smile on her lips.