Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death - Chapter 423: Walking Piece Of Chaos
Chapter 423: Walking Piece Of Chaos
***
{Inside The Projection}
Malik, now in a different room, sat before yet another long oval table.
Sinbad had claimed its rightmost corner, idly spinning a gold coin on its edge.
The metallic click-click of it turning and tipping filled the momentary silence.
Azeem stood beside them, hands busy spreading scrolls across the table.
Each was sealed with different marks—some smudged from travel, others crisp and fresh.
“In the past week… the Western Merchant’s Faction, the ’Fat Slug’ himself, tried to pull out of an agreement with us.”
He tapped a scroll with the back of his fingers.
“Thought he could squeeze us for more coin. I had him… reminded why that wouldn’t be in his best interest. Strongly reminded.”
Sinbad smirked without looking up.
“I’m sure he’s still sweating.”
Azeem went on:
“The rest of the council? Those we scared half to death a while back? They’re back to work. Slowly. Things are… not ideal, but they’re moving again. They’ve seen the mercy you’ve shown to Al-Sayf, how you’ve allowed them to safely migrate back to their home in the North, promising them protection as long as they kept out of the Holy City. And they realize that while you will continue burning the souls of people, they’re safe to work. So, trade routes are opening, collections are on schedule, and—”
A knock came, interrupting his report.
Malik gave a slow nod, and Azeem called without turning:
“Enter.”
The door creaked open to reveal Dunya, balancing a brass tray with a teapot and small porcelain cups, the steam rising from it curling in the air.
“Thank you for coming.”
Smiling at Malik, she moved with soft steps, setting the tray down away from the scrolls in a little space that seemed to be prepared beforehand, making it obvious that her coming with tea was a usual occurrence in every one of their private meetings.
“There was a resurgence of resistance.”
Azeem continued without pause, rolling open another scroll.
“Five tribes rebelled, and there were… demonstrations. Families gathering outside Farajah stations, demanding you step down and shouting for your head. They did it after we burned the town east of theirs. I think… no, I’m sure Roya’s behind most of it.”
Dunya, now leaning to pour Sinbad’s tea, glanced at Malik and hummed.
It was a faint sound, definitely hesitant.
Malik’s eyes shifted to her for a moment, assuring her, as did Sinbad’s.
“It’ll be fine. May we all get what we want… but never what people think we deserve.”
With that prayer from their little owl, every eye went back to Azeem.
“What about my other students? Zafar, Noor.”
Hearing their names, Dunya smiled faintly, done pouring Sinbad’s cup.
“Zafar is still wandering on his so-called training journey since becoming a Jinn.”
Azeem’s answer was measured.
“Noor…”
He exhaled through his nose.
“Her ambitions are getting… out of hand. She’s rushing into things, grabbing influence where she can, and trying to build her faction into something more. My Lord, I could crush her at any time, please, allow me to.”
Malik shook his head.
“Let her be. She’s needed.”
Azeem’s brow furrowed.
“I won’t ask for what—I know you’ll never tell me. But at least let me punish her a little.”
“Don’t rush.”
Malik’s tone turned a little colder as he glanced at Sinbad, repeating what he said once before:
“We’ll need time to build a cage for that little wolf. One so big she mistakes captivity for freedom.”
Azeem gave a small nod, rolling the thought over in his mind.
“I understand.”
He started to move on.
“Now, about—”
Interrupting him, the door opened once more, this time without a knock or pause.
A figure stepped in, cloaked from head to toe in black cloth.
Only her eyes were visible, almond-shaped, calmly watching the room.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Standing up in preparation for a fight, Azeem took a stance.
“Reveal yourself.”
The woman chuckled, and her hands rose, pulling the cloth back from her head.
Silver hair spilled out—long and smooth, catching the light in a way that made it seem alive.
Her face was as striking as any could ever be, paler than anything they’d seen.
Azeem’s eyes widened, and Sinbad stopped spinning his coin.
They knew it instantly.
“…Scheherazade?”
She smiled.
“It’s me~!”
***
{Outside The Projection}
In almost the same exact way, she flew before them all, revealing her face and silver flowing hair. While floating before the projection, her hair shimmered, every strand catching the projection’s light.
She stayed there, wearing the same smile.
A smile that promised nothing but trouble.
“It’s me~!”
Oh… the realization hit them like a million slaps in the face.
Now they understood. Of course ’The Lady’ was her. Who else could have cut down Roya as if she were a weed by the roadside? In hindsight, it was painfully obvious. But knowing it now didn’t make it any less absurd.
Scheherazade… Here.
Again, she was known to never come to the Holy Palace. Never did she meddle with the South, and never did she touch the North. Never. She was like a storm one could hear about in far-off seas—you didn’t expect to see it in your own sky.
So for her to be here meant only one thing: she’d come for their Sultan.
But why?… Did she—
“Yes, I knew about Ma—the Sultan’s severing of that curse’s root.”
The question hadn’t even finished taking shape in their minds before she lazily answered.
“Oh, and please, don’t ask why… I’ll be forced to kill all of you.”
That was it—that was the kind of chaos she was. The stories and rumors about her painted her as an icy and calculated bitch, but the truth was worse—or better, depending on how much you valued your heartbeat.
She was pure walking and breathing mischief, her presence always taking the spotlight, perhaps her way of dealing with old age, trying to make her life exciting by any means necessary, even if it led to death… both of herself and many millions of others.
If Zafar were here, he would’ve been on his knees, praying to God, knowing just how close to death he had gotten.
“Now, now…”
She went on, tone playful.
“Enough about me. Let’s look at our little wolf~.”
They didn’t listen to her.
Malik’s words were something they had already heard before.
It revealed just how much of a genius he was, but that wasn’t anything new.
Not at all. They’d always known he was clever enough to cage his enemies without touching them. Too clever, easily figuring out that Roya was the one feeding unrest like a farmer sowing weeds, but simply didn’t care enough to stop her, or rather, preferring that she kept going, helping her at times.
He knew everything since the beginning, and for the third time, that wasn’t anything new; it was only shown before them now, but still, knowing that he knew and seeing that he did were two different things.
It sounded a bit convoluted, but it was a simple concept.
What was ’new’ was this woman, who might’ve killed them all if not for Sinbad.
And so, before she could do anything reckless, his voice broke the tension:
“Let’s not. Go back to your corner.”
She actually pouted.
“Hmph.”
But she obeyed, dissolving into the air and reappearing in the same far back corner.
Those who’d moved away from her after Roya’s death did so again, huddling closer to the front of the hall.
At this point, they’d rather be closer to the projection—closer to the pain of Malik’s memory—than risk staying close to her.
They wanted nothing to do with her!
***
{Inside The Projection}
The silver-haired woman didn’t bother to acknowledge Azeem’s wide-eyed stare or Sinbad’s glare. Instead, her feet moved soundlessly over the stone floor, the black folds of her dress trailing behind her.
By the time anyone thought to move, she was gone from where she’d been and was suddenly there—behind Malik’s throne, her presence so needlessly close.
Dunya glanced up at her, more tense than ever.
“Hmmmm~.”
Scheherazade slightly leaned in, resting her gaze on the table.
“You’ve done well.”
Though her eyes turned to Dunya, her casual words were aimed at Malik.
“Reining in Noor isn’t a simple thing. Early Blessed like her are a nuisance… think they’ve already got the world between their fingers. Pulling tricks out of nothing, summoning whatever they want… all because they can twist that little Script of theirs.”
Azeem, who was just about to move, froze once more, as did Sinbad, while Dunya’s lips pressed together, her eyes shifting from Scheherazade to Malik.
Malik had yet to move.
Nothing in his posture seemed to indicate that he had even acknowledged Scheherazade.
Undaunted, her silver hair slid forward over her shoulder as she leaned in even further, her lips against his ears, her next words meant for him alone:
“And you know what that means, don’t you?”
The room held its breath until finally, Malik’s golden eyes rose to meet hers.
“She’s not of Fam Iblis…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
…Just like that, Noor’s biggest secret was revealed.
All because of the arrival of Scheherazade.
A walking piece of chaos.
Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com
