new yorker donald trump stories

I never thought I’d end up being the villain. But now, it’s clear—that’s how the world sees me. The truth is, I never saw myself as the hero either. Deep down, I’ve always carried the guilt, knowing that people’s hatred for me might not be entirely unfair. Maybe I was never as good as I wanted to be. Maybe I really wasn’t the kind or noble one in the story. Still, I can’t fully accept being called a villain. It’s strange to wake up one day and realize that everyone, even those I once tried to protect with my life, now see me as the enemy. And as if that wasn’t enough, fate has decided to give me the biggest responsibility of all—saving humanity. The irony is almost laughable. Villains aren’t supposed to save the world. But who else should take on this task? The so-called hero? The one who used his power to collect women, harem as some called it? The one who, even with the strongest cheats, failed to do what needed to be done? So, I’ve made my decision. I’ll save this world—but I’ll do it my way. And if anyone stands in my way, they’ll understand why I was called a villain. [This revised novel, a departure from my debut "The Villain Side of the Novel," introduces an alternate plotline where Fray persists in the struggle for the throne. The narrative unfolds on a previously unexplored continent, a departure from the original setting.]