I Got Reincarnated as the Game's Villain

"FOR ALL THOSE WISHING TO PASS THROUGH THE GATES OF ADEN, YOU MUST FIRST POSSESS A FUNCTIONAL META-WATCH! IT MUST CONTAIN YOUR PERSONAL INFORMATION, INCLUDING A RECORD OF YOUR ABILITIES. REPORT TO THE REGISTRY OFFICE TO COMPLETE YOUR REGISTRATION!" bellowed a man dressed in military attire adorned with the insignia of Aden Academy.

The announcement reverberated through the crowd, causing a stir among those gathered.

…

…

"Ugh, this is going to take forever," complained one of the many people standing in the seemingly endless queue that stretched toward the registry office.

With the sheer number of people ahead, he couldn't even see the start of the line, let alone guess when it would be his turn.

"The line's not moving at all, and this sun is killing me!" another person whined, fanning themselves with a scowl.

Someone muttered behind them, "What's going on there?"

"Oh, great. Looks like we'll be stuck here for a while," groaned another in frustration. A person behind them tapped their shoulder and asked, "Who are they?"

The one in front turned, their eyes wide at the question. "Isn't it obvious?" they replied, raising an eyebrow as if the question itself was idiotic.

"Nobles, of course," came the matter-of-fact response.

"Tch. Even here, in the academy, there's no escaping inequality, huh?" someone else grumbled, glaring toward the opulent carriages moving past the main path.

…

…

"Haah… Haah… Haah…"

A young man with snow-white hair and striking purple eyes leaned against a wall, panting heavily. He stared at the never-ending line before him. From his position at the very back, he couldn't even spot the beginning of the queue.

'No way in hell I'm waiting in this line,' he thought, gritting his teeth in frustration.

The past month had been a whirlwind of danger, forcing him to narrowly escape death time and again. Only through mastering the Chronos Lock had he survived. Yet, his control over it was far from perfect. His body remained weak, and he had abandoned attempts to use his blessing after nearly destroying his mana pool during one reckless experiment.

Still, he had grown. His ether was denser, his ether pool larger, and his ether core purer. He was far stronger than the Amael of a month ago.

But it wasn't enough.

No matter how much progress he made, it always felt insufficient when compared to the major characters in this world. Thankfully, he had realized one crucial thing: his fear of encountering the protagonist was largely unfounded.

The protagonist had always crossed paths with Amael in the game because Amael had pursued the Magic Knight course. Their collision was inevitable on that path. But this time, he had chosen a different route—Alchemy.

It wasn't because he had a particular interest in potions or magical engineering. No, his decision was based purely on survival. The Alchemy Department had fewer major characters, and fewer major characters meant fewer opportunities to be dragged into the plot.

For now, avoiding trouble was his top priority.

"This line isn't moving," he realized with a sigh, glancing at the sun's position. He had already been waiting for nearly an hour, and he was no closer to entering the building.

Frustrated, his gaze drifted to the nobles' carriages rolling smoothly past the main gates.

'The nobles,' he thought, an idea forming in his mind.

Without hesitation, he stepped away from the line, weaving through the crowd until he reached a less-traveled path reserved for carriages. The ornate vehicles passed one by one, their polished surfaces gleaming under the sunlight.

'Now, how do I hitch a ride on one of these?' he wondered, his lips curving into a sly grin.

There was a reason no one even bothered to follow this path. Ahead stood a gate, heavily guarded by soldiers tasked with ensuring no one crossed on foot. Even carriages weren't guaranteed entry unless they bore a unique crest symbolizing the noble house they hailed from, regardless of race.

And that was his problem.

He needed to find a way into one of those carriages to secure an easy passage, rather than waste an absurd amount of time waiting in the never-ending line. According to his knowledge from the game, there were two gates.

One was for commoners.

The other, exclusively for nobles.

The commoners' gate was a logistical nightmare. Given the sheer number of people, it would take the entire day just to process them all and transport them to the academy. It was inefficient, crowded, and a test of patience he simply didn't have.

The nobles' gate, on the other hand, was a stark contrast—less congested, far more efficient, and infinitely faster.

But then...

"Huh?" he muttered, his attention snapping to a particular carriage that had stopped abruptly. Unlike the others, this one stood out with its golden designs embellishing every corner, giving it an air of opulence.

The coachman turned his head, fixing him with an indifferent look. "My lady requests your presence," the man said flatly.

A cold, ominous feeling crept into his chest. "Your lady?" he asked, stepping out from behind the tree where he'd been hiding. It was strange. Even though his cover wasn't perfect, it should have been difficult for anyone to notice him. So, who could this be?

"Yes," the coachman confirmed, his tone devoid of further explanation. "I would advise you to accept the invitation. Refusing would be highly disrespectful." The man's hand hovered near the hilt of his sword, a subtle but unmistakable threat.

'Well, isn't this interesting,' he thought, masking his unease with an indifferent expression.

"Fine," he replied curtly, walking toward the carriage. He opened the door, only for his heart to nearly stop at the sight before him.

"YOU?!" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief.

The person inside didn't flinch. Instead, they gestured impatiently. "Sit. The other carriages are growing restless."

He frowned deeply. This wasn't just strange—it was downright dangerous. His impatience had led him straight into a trap.

'Well, great,' he thought bitterly, stepping inside.

This day was about to get much worse.

…

…

An unbearable silence stretched between us. I sat tentatively, my gaze feigning interest in the passing scenery outside the carriage window. Yet, I never truly turned my back on her—not with someone like her sharing this confined space. Her unpredictability was legendary, and lowering my guard for even a second could spell disaster.

Angelina Kira Augustus.

I still couldn't fathom how she was alive. How had she survived? The Dark Church agents should have ended her when I left her behind. Or… was my theory correct?

Had they been there not to kill her but to force her awakening?

By awakening, I didn't mean her initial bloodline revelation. No, like Lily, she had only grazed the surface with her first awakening. If she had undergone a second awakening, it meant she had fully realized her potential.

And if that was the case…

Please, no.

I prayed silently, hoping I was wrong.

She'd been unnervingly quiet since I entered the carriage—too quiet for someone like her. According to the game, Angelina wasn't the type to maintain composure for long. She acted the moment the impulse struck her, unapologetically reckless.

So why now? Why this eerie calm? Could it be she truly didn't recognize me?

Her voice broke the silence. "Your hair… has it always been this white?"

I hesitated. "… Why do you ask?"

"Just answer me."

I offered a noncommittal shrug.

"It doesn't suit you," she said, a faint grin curling at the corners of her lips—a grin I remembered all too well from the game.

She knows.

"I see," I replied flatly, refusing to give her more.

Without warning, she shifted, sliding across the seat to sit beside me.

What the—

I tensed, instinctively edging away. "What are you doing?" My voice was low, measured.

She followed.

"You remind me of someone I used to know," she said, her gaze locking onto mine. Those strange pink eyes gleamed with an emotion I couldn't quite place.

"A friend?" I asked, though I knew the answer.

"No." Her smile widened, sharp and unkind. "More like my worst enemy."

My jaw tightened. Ugh, fuck.

"I don't think you should be this close, Princess," I said, emphasizing her title as I shifted seats.

"But I want to," she whispered, leaning in again.

I grabbed her wrist, my patience fraying. "Your hands, Princess."

"Look at me," she purred, her voice dripping with an unnatural sweetness.

And I froze.

My pulse quickened as the realization hit me.

… Fuck.

She's awakened.

"What do you want?" I demanded, locking my gaze with hers. Avoiding her now was pointless.

She studied me with a predator's patience, her smile never wavering. "No longer calling me Princess?"

"….," I Kept silent, gazing right into her eyes.

"So be it." She turned away, gazing out the opposite window.

I watched her, trying to decipher her next move, but her face remained hidden.

"We've arrived, my lady," the coachman called from the front.

"You may leave," she said softly, her tone dismissive.

I hesitated, unsure of her intent, before stepping out of the carriage.

Well, it seems she didn't recognize me.

That's good.

…

…

Inside the carriage, Angelina bit down on her lip, suppressing a manic laugh. Her hands trembled, clenched tightly in her lap.

He's alive.

The realization nearly overwhelmed her. She didn't dare look at him again, afraid her emotions would betray her.

The bloodline ability she'd awakened gave her unparalleled control over emotions—both hers and others'. But it was a double-edged sword, amplifying her own feelings to dangerous levels.

She remembered it all too vividly. The day he abandoned her. The helplessness. The rage. The betrayal.

He hadn't even looked back.

Her nails dug into her palms as the memory resurfaced. If he hadn't fallen out of that window, she would've dispatched the attackers with ease. But his mistake had turned the tide against her.

The next thing she remembered was waking up in her room, told she'd been unconscious for three months. Amael was gone, presumed dead.

Yet here he was.

"Now then…" she whispered, a wicked smile creeping onto her lips as she watched him enter the building, his torn clothes drawing disdainful glances from the nobles around him.

"What should I do with you, Amael?"