Becoming the Terminally-Ill Villain Who Torments His Disciples

Even as he cried out and shut his eyes tightly, no pain came.

“Don’t open your eyes, Cielo.”

A familiar voice came from above. Reflexively, Cielo opened his eyes—and saw a hand extending from empty air, gripping Sol’s wrist tightly.

That hand didn’t move, as though determined not to act until Cielo closed his eyes again, but it clamped down on Sol’s wrist with enough force to snap it.

“How dare you—do you know who I a—augh!”

Crack.

With a loud sound, Sol’s wrist twisted grotesquely. The dagger slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.

As soon as Cielo clenched his eyes shut again, the weight that had been pressing on his shoulders vanished. But not knowing when Sol might attack again, Cielo instinctively curled his body up in fear.

“You… you dare… let go…!”

“The crown prince, you… all the ones who tormented Cielo always say the same sort of things.”

Ryan’s voice fell over Cielo’s head like a calm storm.

The sound of thrashing clothes, then soon after, Sol’s scream filled with pain.

“Can I kill this bastard, Cielo?”

But the voice directed toward him was impossibly gentle.

If not for Sol’s continuing screams in the background, it would’ve sounded like a whisper of love.

“You can take your time. Should I kill him—or let him live?”

At Ryan’s question, Cielo’s lips trembled.

Villains deserve to die.

The sins Sol and Pielago had committed weren’t ones that could be forgiven, even if they were torn apart limb by limb. Summoning monsters itself was a forbidden act, regardless of what they’d done to Cielo.

“…Please… I beg you…”

Just then, a faint voice brushed past Cielo’s ear.

He sharply raised his head and looked at Ryan. Ryan, who had cut through space to appear, still held Sol by the throat, a sword in his other hand.

His crimson eyes blazed, as though ready to drive that blade straight into Sol the moment a command was given.

“Ryan…”

“Yeah, say it, Cielo.”

“That man…”

Cielo’s words made Ryan’s eyes widen. Then, slowly, he nodded.

***

Crackle, crack.

Cielo quietly watched the burning villa.

After escaping the mansion, Cielo had asked Ryan to set fire to the villa—and Ryan had done so without asking a single question.

“…Will this bring you any comfort?”

The real Cielo, whose body had been taken and whose soul’s whereabouts were unknown.

Yet, at the moment Ryan asked if he could kill Sol, Cielo had undeniably heard his voice.

Maybe it was because he so desperately wanted to hear it. Or perhaps the real Cielo was still alive somewhere, reaching out to him.

While Cielo stared blankly at the burning estate, Ryan gently touched the cheek that had swollen badly and asked:

“Are you okay?”

His crimson eyes still brimmed with a deep killing intent, as if his anger hadn’t yet settled.

“…Yes. I’m fine.”

Whether he was fine or not—he wasn’t sure. Because the one who should be asked that question wasn’t him, but the real Cielo.

I hope you’re truly okay now.

Cielo hoped that the voice he’d heard at his ear truly belonged to the real Cielo.

“…There’s one left.”

He muttered and took a deep breath.

The one who tormented ‘Cielo’ the most.

Unlike Sol, who insisted he had to go easy on him because he might actually be a blood relative, Pielago didn’t like Cielo from the moment he contradicted him.

After branding him a bastard child, Pielago began to use direct violence. When they were young, he’d strike him in places hidden under clothes to avoid adult eyes.

But once he was caught hitting Cielo in the duchy estate and Typhon said nothing, Pielago grew even bolder. He began slapping him across the face, hitting his head—and sometimes even shoved him hard enough to knock him down just because he was “in a bad mood.”

Someone like that would surely move the moment he realized Sol was gone. Especially now that the estate had caught fire.

As soon as he grasped the situation, he might storm up to Cielo, grab him by the collar, and try to kill him.