I Am The Game's Villain

He had to have a split personality. That was the only explanation.

Sometimes, he was a whining, petulant child, patient and smart, the very image of the boy everyone remembered. But then, on rare occasions, he became this—irritatingly arrogant, his words laced with venom toward everyone except himself. It was as though the moment he let this darker side show too much, something would snap, and heʼd revert to his usual, pitiful self.

It was like watching two halves of a fractured mirror reflecting entirely different faces.

That other side of him was at least amusing, I suppose. It was certainly better than dealing with an unsightly, whining brat.

”I swear, theyʼre worse than Utopia. Even you might be disgusted by your own people. Wait—are there even people you arenʼt disgusted by?” Amael raised a brow mockingly as he speared a piece of roasted meat from my plate and popped it into his mouth with exaggerated satisfaction.

I said nothing, opting instead to focus on the book in my hands. It wasnʼt that I wasnʼt eating—I just refused to eat in front of this man. It was too... embarrassing. The thought of being watched by him while I ate made my skin crawl.

And then—

-Guuurgle

The traitorous sound ripped through the room, far louder than Iʼd have liked.

”...”

”...”

My face flushed and I buried it in my book, mortified. Why?! Why now of all times?!

I ate this morning, didnʼt I?

Amael tilted his head, looking far too amused for my liking. ”Well, if you insist, Iʼll fetch you another plate.”

To my surprise, he actually stood up and walked away, his usual mocking grin replaced with something more neutral. He was back to his goody two shoes self.

He probably had some deep-seated trauma or psychological issue to explain this shift in behavior.

Five minutes later, he returned with a fresh plate of food.

”Here. Eat,” he said, sliding it toward me.

I gave him a sharp glare, pointedly ignoring the offering.

I didnʼt ask him anything.

Just treat me and get out of my room and then I will eat!

”What?” he asked, unfazed. ”You want me to feed you?”

Before I could respond, he skewered a piece of steak with his fork and brought it dangerously close to my mouth.

-Slap!

The fork clattered to the ground with a loud clang. I might have used a little more force than necessary; his hand was already turning red.

He glared at me. ”Oh, excuse me. Am I the one whose stomach just growled loud enough for all of Utopia to hear?”

”...”

I clenched my fists, my annoyance bubbling into rage. I am going to kill him!

Before I could act, he calmly picked up the knife, stabbed another piece of steak, and brought it toward me.

”Eat it. Now.” His voice was low, and his smile didnʼt quite reach his eyes.

”L–Leave me alone!” I shouted, twisting and thrashing, but he easily caught my wrist in his grip.

”Come on. Open wide.”

I pushed against his chest with my free hand, my fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. But he snatched that wrist too, trapping me completely.

How dare he!

I glared daggers at him, my knee itching to strike the sensitive target between his legs. Just as I tensed to attack, he froze.

I blinked, confused. His hands remained on my wrists, but his gaze…

”...”

”...”

We locked eyes for what felt like an eternity, the room suddenly quiet except for the faint sound of my uneven breathing. His expression was unreadable, but it made something stir uncomfortably in my chest.

Unable to bear it any longer, I looked away, averting my gaze to the side.

Then he spoke finally. ”You know... I never thought Iʼd find you cute one day.”

”...!”

My face burned, my chest tightening with a mix of embarrassment and anger.

Without thinking, I lashed out with my foot, driving it squarely into his stomach with every ounce of force I could muster.

”Die, human!”

”Ugh!” He groaned, doubling over as the impact sent him sprawling backward onto the floor.

The room fell into an eerie silence. For a long moment, there was no sound, no movement.

I hesitated, my heart pounding as a thought crossed my mind.

ʼIs he… really dead?ʼ

Carefully, I crawled to the edge of the bed. Peeking over the footboard, I spotted him lying there, sprawled on his back with one arm stretched out like a fallen warrior.

Then his head tilted toward me. His lips curved into a faint grin.

”Well, thanks. I feel better somehow,” he said.

My expression twisted.

Was this man seriously a masochist?

He didnʼt give me a chance to retort, instead hauling himself back up and sitting on the bed beside me to treat me.

I watched as he closed his eyes to focus.

”...”