Villain Hiring: Help! Author Wants Me Dead

A/N: A change in POV will be denoted by,

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"Noah!"

"Hurry up, or you'll be late!!"

I exhaled lightly, staring at the plain white ceiling above me.

Today was my last day of school, and our teachers had planned a farewell party.

A day meant for celebration, for moving forward.

But honestly? I wasn't interested.

The door creaked open, and in walked Ma—a name that had long replaced 'Grandmother' in my heart.

Barely reaching my shoulders, she carried herself with a grace that defied her years.

Her pink hair, tied up in a messy bun, reminded me of the cherry blossoms we used to admire together.

Despite her small frame, she radiated warmth, the kind that could make the coldest days feel like spring.

Her usual gown—a simple but elegant yellow wool dress—was covered in smudges of flour and streaks of chocolate.

No doubt the result of an early morning spent baking.

Grandma Sylvie believed that there was nothing in this world a good pastry couldn't fix.

And for her, maybe it was true.

She placed her hands on the back, her clear, black eyes filled with mischief.

"Are you planning to spend your last day at school sulking in bed?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or have you finally decided to take root and grow into the furniture?" 

A small, involuntary smile pulled at my lips. "I just don't see the point, Ma. What am I supposed to celebrate? People who barely notice me? A school that never felt like home?" I shook my head. "I'd rather stay here."

She sighed but didn't scold me. Instead, she walked over and sat beside me, brushing a strand of hair from my face with a tenderness I had grown used to. 

"I know, my boy," she said softly. "Life hasn't been fair to you. The clan turned their backs when they should have stood beside you.

They whisper as if you are lesser—because they fear what you might become. But hear me now, Noah."

Her black eyes locked onto mine, filled with unspoken determination. 

"You are a Romero.

Exiled or not, cast aside or not, you carry our name.

That name is not theirs to take.

It is yours to define."

I swallowed, something stirring deep within me.

"You have every right to be angry," Ma squeezed my hand. "But don't let them decide who you are. Don't let their rejection shape your future. If they refuse to give you your place in this world—take it."

Her words settled deep into my bones like fire lighting in the dark.

I wasn't weak.

I wasn't forgotten.

I was still here.

And I... had a choice.

"Now," she said, standing up with a playful huff, "you will go to that farewell party. Not for them. Not because they deserve your time. But because you deserve to walk forward with your head held high. Do you hear me, kiddo?"

I took a slow breath before nodding. "Okay, Ma. I'll go."

Her entire face brightened. "That's my boy! Now get ready—I've laid out your best suit, and don't you dare argue. You are a Romero, and you will look like one."

I chuckled as she turned on her heel and marched to the door, her energy infectious.

As the door clicked shut, I sat up, her words still stirring in my mind. If they refuse to give you your place—take it.

My gaze drifted to the small, unassuming book on the nightstand beside me.

The Book of Sin.

That's what was written on the half-smudged cover page.

A book that had been in my possession for as long as I could remember. 

It was the last 'birthday gift' my parents had given me.

A book that I always felt was calling out to me.

But no matter what I did, I couldn't open it.

I reached for it many a times, fingers grazing the worn leather.

But nothing worked.

Half assedly, I tried pulling the cover apart—gently at first. Then, with more force, but the book didn't budge.

It was as if there was a seal placed on it by some divine being~

I tried knives, heat, even mana-infused objects... but nothing worked.

Even now, as I pressed my fingers against its surface, I felt it—

Something was watching me.

Waiting.

But for what?

I gritted my teeth and tried again, pushing all my strength into it.

But the book remained closed.

Mocking me.

Denying me.

Exhaling sharply, I let it go.

It wasn't time yet.

And I didn't know when it would be.

But one thing was clear: this book held something. 

Something important.

And the day I opened it?

I was sure...

Everything would change for me. 

———————

The grand hall shone with a golden light from the chandeliers, casting a warm glow. 

Soft music from a corner mingled with the gentle hum of our conversations. 

I adjusted the hem of my gown, the soft fabric shimmering faintly in the light. It was a shade of lavender, with silver embroidery that glinted like starlight. 

My mother insisted it was perfect for the occasion, though I found it too expensive for my taste.

Still, appearances mattered in these circles, and I knew better than to argue.

"Lady Lyla, you look radiant tonight," a smooth voice interrupted my thoughts.

I turned to see Cedric, a boy from my class, bowing slightly as he offered his hand.

His blond hair was neatly combed, and his smile was practised to perfection. 

"Thank you, Cedric," I replied with a polite smile, ignoring his extended hand. "You're too kind."

He hesitated for a moment, his smile faltering, before he hit at me again. "Will you honour me with a dance later?"

"Perhaps," I said noncommittally, knowing full well I had no intention of doing so.

He was persistent, but I'd learned how to navigate these interactions without offending.

Cedric bowed again and drifted away, no doubt to try his luck with another girl.

As I watched him go, my gaze wandered across the hall.

Groups of students stood together, their laughter and chatter filling the spaces between the music.

Some were gathered near the food, others danced gracefully in the centre of the room.

And then there was Noah. 

He'd entered quietly, almost unnoticed, slipping into the hall like a shadow.

His ink-black hair caught the light as he moved, but his eyes remained downcast, avoiding the curious stares of our peers.

He was dressed perfectly in an outfit I could only guess his grandmother made him wear.

After all, he never was the type to dress up for anything. 

No one approached him.

Not a single person.

He lingered near the edge of the room, away from the laughter and the music, a solitary figure in a sea of piranhas. 

My chest tightened as I watched him, a flicker of guilt stirring within me. 

Noah D. Romero.

A noble in name but an orphan in reality.

Everyone had heard rumours of his clan disowning him—whispers of his "weak constitution" and the struggles of being unable to gather enough funds for an Integration. 

They said he was cursed, unworthy of his family's name.

And while I didn't believe in such superstitions, I couldn't deny the effect they had on him. 

He'd been a quiet boy for as long as I could remember, keeping to himself and rarely speaking unless spoken to.

It wasn't that he lacked intelligence or charm, no.

He had an understated elegance hidden from the eyes of the world.

But his isolation had made him a target.

His so-called friends didn't just tease him; they bullied him relentlessly, hiding their cruelty behind polite smiles and hollow laughter.

"Taking care of him." That's what they called it. 

As if their actions were some twisted form of tough love, a way to "toughen him up."

It was disgusting.

But I… I… didn't intervene. 

I'd convinced myself it wasn't my place, that getting involved would only make things worse for him.

After all, what could I do? I was just another classmate, another noble trapped in the rigid hierarchies of our world.

I bit my lip, my fingers curling around the stem of my glass. 

His situation was tragic, yes.

Losing his parents, being ostracized by his own family, enduring the constant ridicule of our peers…

it was more than anyone should have to bear.

But that was the gist of it, wasn't it? Tragic, but not my problem.

I straightened my shoulders, resolving to maintain my distance. 

And yet…

My gaze drifted back to him. He was standing near one of the wine fountains now, his hands clasped behind his back.

His expression was neutral, but there was a tightness in his jaw, a subtle tension that betrayed his discomfort. 

I sighed, swirling the wine in my glass.

What was it about him that made it so hard to look away?

It wasn't attraction, I was sure of that. It was something else.

Pity, perhaps. Or maybe a sense of shared loneliness. Despite the crowd around me, I often felt like an outsider, too, playing a part in a world that didn't quite feel like mine. 

"Lady Lyla," another voice interrupted my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. 

I turned to see Everett, a boy with a sharp jawline and an overly confident grin. "May I have the honour of this dance?" 

I forced a smile, nodding politely. "Of course, Everett."

As he led me to the dance floor, I cast one last glance at Noah. 

He hadn't moved, his solitude untouched by the festive chaos around him. 

My heart ached slightly, but I pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the rhythm of the music and the steps of the dance. 

It wasn't my place to save him. And even if it were, I wasn't sure he wanted to be saved.

***