BJ Villainess Chapter 172

* * *

Valhalla was filled with the fresh vitality of early summer. Students in light attire gathered in small groups on the lawn or at outdoor tables, studying in a scene reminiscent of painting.

 

Among them, there was definitely a group that stood out. It was Damian’s group. The mixed-gender group drew attention as an envious object. This is because they consisted of students from respectable families who were talented and attractive. Damian was the only commoner among them, but he became the center of the group because of his overwhelming ability and good looks.

 

They gathered at an outdoor table and talked with each other in a free manner that would be just like this if there was a masterpiece that depicted youth. In the meantime, Damian was alone, staring quietly into the distance and not engaging in conversation.

 

“Damian? Are you okay?” A pretty cute looking woman looked anxiously at Damian. There was no gold rose brooch on her chest. That means she’s not a member of Demisa, but it was obvious she had a crush on him.  She tried to touch Damian’s forehead with a concerned expression.

 

Damian felt a surge of annoyance before her hand could touch him. Years of training allowed him to quickly muster a smile, gently pushing her hand away to avoid upsetting her. “I’m fine. Just spaced out from studying for the exams.”

 

It wasn’t funny at all, but the woman burst out laughing.

 

“Does a smart kid like you study for exams?”

 

Damian found her attempts to make an intimate joke exceedingly annoying.

 

Then, a man with an energetic appearance intervened and joked. “My grades are always terrible because a guy like Damian even tries. Don’t you think so?”

 

“Agreed.”

 

“Hey, Damian. I’m just laying the groundwork for you to stand out. You know that, right?”

 

Damian smiled mechanically at the men who were jokingly throwing in comments. Being with them wasn’t just boring but exhausting too.

 

As Damian’s gaze became increasingly cold, one of the men, laughing and tossing a ball back and forth, spoke up softly.  “Oh, there’s Theresa.”

 

The word made the surroundings quiet for a moment. Damian’s eyes turned to the street, slightly away from the outdoor table. Between the trees lining the path, a familiar figure could be seen. Theresa was walking slowly, possibly studying as her eyes on the book.

 

She might bump into something.

 

Theresa was a bit… no, quite careless. If he were by her side, it would be okay for her to walk like that while focusing only on her book, but not now.

 

“Isn’t she going to trip?”

 

Not only did Damian feel Theresa’s actions were precarious, as someone casually mentioned it.

 

Damian struggled to suppress the urge to snap at them to stop staring and just look away.

 

Then, a damn wind blew. Theresa, who raised her head for a moment, brushed her hair, which had been tousled by the wind to behind her ears. The sight of her soft hair waving like a plush carpet disturbed his mind.

 

“Wow…” Someone inevitably let out a sigh of admiration.

 

Once Theresa caught their attention, it wasn’t easily diverted. They now deliberately to made Theresa the topic of conversation.

 

“Has anyone seen the butterfly wings?”

 

“I haven’t seen it yet. Damian probably has. How was it?”

 

The man who just asked noticed Damian intently watching Theresa and flinched. To interpret it as mere observation would be understating it, given Damian’s persistent and somewhat chilling gaze. Feeling as if he had seen something he shouldn’t have, the man awkwardly changed the subject.

 

“So… Those butterfly wings on her shadow are the Squire family’s arcane magic, right?”

 

“There’s still no precise information. The Squire family seems to be still figuring it out.”

 

“Regaining the lost arcane magic after 100 years… Is the Squire family heading towards another golden age?”

 

“Hmm. Maybe.”

 

The women reacted indifferently, pretending to be uninterested. They were seething with jealousy from the moment Theresa appeared, as Damian had watched her non-stop.

 

The prettiest among them tried to divert Damian’s attention. “Damian, do you want to study with us today?”

 

Everyone looked at Damian.

 

Damian stared obsessively at the receding figure of Theresa before suddenly standing up. “I’ll be leaving first.”

 

“What? Damian!”

 

Despite being called from behind, he didn’t give a single glance back and chased after Theresa. He was aware that his own behavior was strange. He was human too after all. Thus, it was natural for him to be drawn to pretty and cute things.

 

It should have been just that much. But at some point, he distinctly felt the change in the way others looked at her. As if it wasn’t just him who found her pretty and cute, others, ignorant of their own feelings, began to feel the same. Unlike him, who tried to hide his feelings, there were those who openly showed theirs.

 

Professor Ilya Bernstein. The way he looked at Theresa was etched vividly in his mind. Damian gritted his teeth involuntarily.

 

“What are you doing, Damian?”

 

“…”

 

Unless it was a special occasion, he was always passing the back gate of the quiet East Wing. Damian stopped and looked with a cold gaze at a man standing in the corridor between buildings.

 

The man was Edie, a member of Stigmata and, at the same time, a student of Valhalla. He was also tasked with monitoring Theresa Squire.

 

“Why is the watchdog of Libby Squire chasing after my target?” Edie did not hide his displeasure with Damian’s unexpected behavior and asked again.

 

Then Damian smiled. “I have a personal business.”

 

“Don’t you use that disgusting smile only when you’re luring Libby Squire?” The voice was full of scorn and hostility.

 

Edie was always like this. A fool that desperate to oppress Damian, flaunting his noble background.

 

Damian realized that Theresa was no longer in sight and rubbed his face. It was an action that clearly showed his annoyance. Edie’s mood soured even more.

 

“Are you daring to be annoyed with me now? I’m the one who lost my target because of you.”

 

Damian took off his glasses and rubbed the corners of his eyes. Suddenly, severe fatigue overwhelmed him, making even his voice low and subdued. “You should have just followed quietly as usual. I don’t understand why you chose today of all days to show yourself and pick a fight.”

 

“Ha. You’re not asking because you don’t know, right? Rode himself ordered me personally to monitor your approach to Theresa.”

 

In the first place, it was Edie himself who reported to Rode Constantine about Damian’s strange behavior. With a smirk that only those who have caught someone’s weakness can have, he taunted, “Go back and sell your smiles to Libby as you always do.”

 

Damian was in a very bad mood, not because he was being treated cheaply. It was just the thought of Edie monitoring Theresa’s every move and watching her continuously that suddenly made his blood rush to his head. Even though it was a duty that Stigmata was supposed to perform, his anger flared uncontrollably.

 

“So,” Damian’s eyes flashed dangerously, like those of a snake baring its fangs. “Why did you unnecessarily report such a thing, Edie?”

 

“Ugh!”

 

Edie was caught by the jaw before he even sensed Damian’s approach. The terrible pain, as if being crushed, made his eyes roll back.

 

“If you had kept quiet, I might have let you live a bit longer.”

 

Edie’s body slumped. He was dead. Thud! His body, discarded like trash on the ground, was dragged down by earth crawling up over it as if the ground, animated like a living creature, swallowed the corpse and then flattened out again.

 

“…”

 

Damian looked at the ground with an expressionless face. This was a power unknown to him. Yet, he had naturally manipulated mana to clean up after himself, as if he had done such deeds hundreds of times before. What was even more puzzling was that he didn’t find such actions strange.

 

Why?

 

Why wasn’t I afraid of this unknown change? Instead, feel almost like laughing?

 

Damian put his glasses back on. Even though his expression appeared much softer, something fundamentally seemed to have changed, making him look quite different from before. Something was changing.