Becoming the Terminally-Ill Villain Who Torments His Disciples

He said there was no way Cielo wouldn’t know. But not understanding what that meant, Cielo quietly studied Sol’s face.

“We used to do research together when we were young.”

“…”

“Right here.”

As Sol smiled softly with narrowed eyes, a splitting pain surged through Cielo’s head. And at the same time, a memory flashed before his eyes.

“To summon a monster, you need the blood of a sacrifice, right? Cielo, give me your hand.”

“Is that really enough, though? Cut it deep, deep enough to take a chunk out. He has healing abilities, remember? He’ll fix it himself.”

“Doesn’t seem like he can heal himself. Pielago, since you said so, I guess we’ll do it that way?”

A sharp blade glinted before his eyes. The sword slashed deeply across his palm, leaving a severe wound. The blood that dripped down disappeared into the floor, as if it were being absorbed.

At the same time, his heart felt like it was being torn apart. Drool dripped from between his parted lips. Sol laughed, saying it was amusing, and Pielago looked elsewhere, disinterested.

His cut palm hurt. His chest hurt unbearably. Even though his mouth was open and he was breathing, it felt like something was blocking him from the inside. He was dizzy.

“Ah, it hurts… it hurts…”

Even when he cried out in pain, no one responded. The two of them merely enjoyed watching Cielo suffer.

“Save me… please…”

His tearful voice scattered into the air. But no matter how much he begged or wished, no one came to rescue him.

“Oh, look at that. The blood completely disappeared. Doesn’t that mean the contract worked?”

“Hmm… but it doesn’t look like a real monster is showing up. Did we do something wrong?”

“Maybe we need more blood. Oh, but it says here that if too much blood is spilled, the subject might die.”

“Really?”

Sol asked, then reached for Cielo like it wouldn’t matter if he died. Even as Cielo clutched his bleeding hand and shook his head, even as he screamed no, they didn’t stop.

Pielago grabbed Cielo’s ankle as he tried to escape and yanked him back, grinning with his head tilted.

“Where should I stab you this time?”

“…Ah, ah, aaagh, aaaaaaah!”

Cielo jerked violently like he was seizing and then scrambled to his feet. Sol, sipping tea, smiled and said,

“Don’t tell me you forgot those precious memories we made together? If so, that would honestly make me a little sad.”

Sol smiled as he said that.

And in the memories that followed, Cielo saw the faces of Sol and Pielago, disappointed that he hadn’t died.

“…Ha.”

Cielo let out a hollow laugh.

These people never truly saw him as a brother. He had suspected something was wrong when they branded him a bastard despite him not being one, but he hadn’t expected it to be this hopeless.

“Research? How can you even call that research? What you did to me was torture.”

“…”

“Why did you call me here? To show me the place where you tortured me, just to scare me into obeying?”

Cielo steadied himself as he spoke. He was scared, terrified even, but he couldn’t let himself fall for Sol and Pielago’s games.

The fear etched deep inside his body—if he couldn’t overcome it, then he, too, would be stuck in this place. Just like the Cielo in the novel, who eventually broke.

“I’m different.”

He wasn’t, really. But he would be.

He would not be swallowed by the past that surged up like a wave, the way he used to avoid and run from it. Now, he would stand on top of that fear and defeat it.

‘I managed to do it. So you can too, Cielo.’

If he couldn’t face it alone, he would face it together.

Just like Ryan and Oscar, who had reached out to help him overcome his immense fear.

This time, it was his turn.

For the fake to reach out a hand to the real one.