Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death - Chapter 433: Lost In Madness
***
{Inside The Projection}
The room felt smaller every time Malik opened his eyes.
Layla remained asleep on the bed, incredibly pale under the thin blankets.
He stood with his arms loose at his sides, watching her chest rise and fall… counting the seconds left in her hourglass, a breath that went ever shallower.
Droves of people came in from all over Fam Iblis.
One after another, after another, after another.
First, the priests, every one of them in white, muttering spells Malik didn’t care to follow.
They had the windows open, allowing fresh air in, while they cooled her with ice. Some incense was also burned, supposedly to help clear her airways.
It did not.
They prodded, examined, and prayed.
Yet nothing they did helped.
Their voices were polite at first—
“My Lord, we believe…”
“My Lord, if I may be frank…”
“My Lord, forgive me, but—”
By the fifth visitor, they stopped dressing it up.
“The Lady’s not going to…”
By the tenth, they all spoke the same single sentence:
“The baby is taking her life.”
They never looked him in the eyes after saying it…
Though it was more because they physically couldn’t.
Neither could Dunya, holding her Lady’s hand while looking away from her big brother.
Even Azeem, who was standing by the door, had his head snap down from the pressure his Lord exuded; it was a sadness unfathomable.
Sinbad, perched on his Elder Brother’s shoulder, seemed entirely unaffected, or rather, he exhibited the same sadness, forcing the priests to nearly crawl out of there, unable to even stand up straight.
Replacing them, and following that female healer of earlier, more healers came next; some from cities Malik had only heard of in passing, others dragged out from monasteries in the Western and Northern mountains.
Each hovered their palms above Layla’s stomach and muttered their spells, only to frown seconds later.
“The baby…”
Malik heard the same sentence so many times that it stopped sounding like words.
“Is feeding on her.”
And then, it was always quieter, as if lowering their voice would soften the blow:
“She won’t survive.”
Of course, it did not ‘soften’ anything… it could not; nothing could.
After they left, whispering their sincere apologies, their leader, the female healer, being the loudest, Speakers, of all people, came as well, wearing their green robes and plague masks.
They did everything they could, leaving with hands that paled and trembled, yet Layla remained much the same, given not even a second longer.
Finally, physicians came, men and women with bags of brass tools and glass vials, each smelling of strange herbs and smoke.
They examined her, asked questions Malik didn’t answer, and eventually gave the same verdict in their own polite ways.
The baby was taking her strength.
Every heartbeat Layla gave was one she wouldn’t get back.
She was near death.
By the time the last of them left, the room smelled of dying flowers.
…A quite fitting smell, for it belonged to the one who died before her.
The one that died twice, blooming beautifully in both.
‘This…’
Malik could now be seen sitting on a chair before the bed, elbows on his knees, fingers stapled together under his chin, pressing so hard that the skin whitened.
He, after a certain point, had stayed like that, remaining still through it all, his eyes never leaving the bed, ignoring those that came and went.
He didn’t speak or nod; he simply waited for them to finish telling him what he already knew.
Hope wasn’t anything he asked for; the word meant nothing to him now.
Because, yes, he understood it.
An undeniable truth.
The child growing inside her was feeding on her way, way more than it should.
It was war, a… p-parasite that wanted to take all that was.
Again, every breath Layla took was paid for…
And the debt was climbing.
It all came down to one thing.
One thing alone.
“Lord Malik—”
Azeem started, trying to appease his Lord.
“Get out.”
But Malik didn’t allow him to.
He metaphorically slammed the door on Azeem’s face, his words flat as ever.
Azeem, knowing better than to talk back, especially not now, bowed deeply at him, a tear leaving one of his bright red eyes as he, following a crying Dunya, turned to leave.
Sinbad stayed perched for a moment longer, turning his head slowly toward Malik.
“…Don’t do what you cannot come back from.”
Malik didn’t acknowledge him or his words.
The world was only himself and her now.
Understanding that, Sinbad clicked his beak once, then opened his wings and flew away, feathers brushing Malik’s shoulder one last time as he passed.
The room turned silent…
‘…I.’
Though only for a moment.
‘I…’
Malik chuckled.
‘I forgot what my life is.’
A chuckle that would’ve broken the hearts of all who listened to it.
‘I was happy… that was wrong.’
He kept staring at the bed, not even really seeing it anymore.
‘Someone like me should never be happy.’
‘I should’ve known that full well by now.’
‘Tragedy always follows my happiness.’
Those thoughts made him bleed.
What was he supposed to do?
Really, what kind of choice was this?
Weren’t the tragedies supposed to end by now?
His ‘lessons…’ weren’t they over? Didn’t he ‘learn’ enough?
He’d buried enough, lost enough, fought enough…
And now—this.
…WHAT HAVE ‘THEY’ DONE TO US?
A repeating thought.
His wife.
His child.
I HAVE TO CHOOSE BETWEEN MY WIFE AND MY GODDAMNED CHILD.
Between the promise he made and the blood that was his.
How could anyone even begin to do that?
How could they begin this thought of ‘choosing?’
Layla, whom he’d promised Rehan he would protect.
Yes, yes, yes, that promise was no longer, but still…
I’LL FOLLOW WHAT I WANT.
Even if that promise had burned away, he’d never let go of it.
It was the only thing remaining that kept his past alive.
Shackles he let go of, but no… never this promise.
Malik couldn’t kill his wife.
A kid—he could get another.
He could not have another Layla.
He had to choose his wife.
He had to choose Layla.
And yet… the baby… his baby, his blood.
It was his child that he’d kill.
I’D BE MURDERING THEM.
Yeah, he could save her.
He could hold her again.
But to do that, he’d have to end the life forming inside her.
And that life—could he really kill it? Could he live with that?
It was his life in a different shape…
To kill it would be to kill a part of himself.
Others could spare losing a part, yet Malik couldn’t.
There was so very little of himself left… if this went as well, then…
I’D BE LOWER THAN A DAMNED HUSK.
The thought looped in his head, an unending cycle.
Save her, lose them. Save them, lose her.
Save her, lose them. Save them, lose her.
Save her, lose them. Save them, lose her.
Save her, lose them. Save them, lose her.
Save her, lose them. Save them, lose her.
Save her, lose them. Save them, LOSE her.
save her, lose them. save THEM, lose her.
Save Her, Lose Them. SAVE THEM, lose her.
saveher, lose them. save them, loseher.
SAVE HER, LOSE THEM. SAVE THEM, LOSE HER.
SaVE hEr, LoSe tHeM. SaVe ThEm, LoSe HeR.
SAVEHER, LOSETHEM, SAVETHEM, LOSEHER.
savEher, losEthem, savEthem, loSEher.
SAVEHERLOSETHEMSAVETHEMLOSEHER.
SAVEHER LOSETHEM SAVEHER LOSETHEM.
sAvEhEr loSeThEm sAvEtHeM loSeHeR.
S A V E H E R L O S E T H E M — S A V E T H E M L O S E H E R.
saVEher saVEher saVEher—LOSEthemLOSEthemLOSEthem—
SAVEHER SAVEHER LOSE THEM LOSE HER LOSE THEM LOSE HER—
SAVEEEE HER LOSETHEM SAVEEE THEM LOSE HERRRRR—
sAVeHerLoSeThEmSaVeThEmLoSeHeR—
SAVEHERLOSETHEMSAVETHEMLOSEHERsaveherLOSETHEM—
SAVEHER LOSE THEM SAVEHER LOSE THEM SAVEHER LOSE THEM—
saVEHEr saVEHEr loSEThEM loSEThEM loSEThEM loSEThEM—
S A V E H E R S A V E H E R L O S E T H E M L O S E T H E M—
SAVEHERLOSETHEMSAVEHERLOSETHEMSAVEHERLOSETHEM—
SaVeHeR sAvEhEr SaVeHeR—LoSeThEm LoSeThEm LoSeThEm—
SAAAAVE HERRRRR LOSE THEM LOSE THEM LOSE HERRRRR—
savEherLOSETHEMsavEherLOSETHEMsavEherLOSETHEM—
SAVEHER LOSEHER SAVEHER LOSEHER SAVEHER LOSEHER SAVEHER—
S A V E H E R L O S E H E R S A V E H E R L O S E H E R—
saVEHEr saVEHEr saVEHEr saVEHEr saVEHEr saVEHEr—
LOSETHEM LOSETHEM LOSETHEM LOSETHEM LOSETHEM—
SAAAAVEHERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR—
Over and over and over and over and over again.
It was complete and utter madness.
He’d survived the worst the world had to offer.
He’d seen things no man should and done things no man should.
It was the unfathomable that he had accomplished, and yet here he was, paralyzed.
This choice—this one choice—was heavier than every battlefield he’d ever walked.
His breath came too slow, slower than even hers, as he trembled even harder.
Trying to make a decision was literally killing him.
His torn soul was being ripped further apart.
Piece after cursed piece.
Every second filled his own hourglass.
This death would utter no blink.
It’d be final and complete.
Yet that seemed to be a mercy when compared to this.
…This Goddamned decision.
‘…’
‘…’
‘…’
‘…’
‘I—’
But, before such a mercy could come to pass, the air shifted.
Something of a whoosh! A rush of wind.
With it, a man appeared.
Yeah…
A man.
One moment, the room was empty; the next, he was standing there.
Somehow, this man had gotten past all the guards, Sinbad, and Azeem included.
He had blonde hair, cut short, and eyes like Malik’s own, gold as the Sun, only older.
His clothes didn’t belong here; they had smooth and bright fabric with edges far too clean.
A type of clothing one’d expect to see in a dream about a world that didn’t exist yet.
More than that, this man felt… strong; as strong as Malik himself.
Standing up to face him, Malik’s eyes narrowed.
“…Are you—”
“No.”
The man shook his head before Malik could finish.
“I’m not you from the future.”
Malik nearly took a step back.
“…Then you are—”
The man smiled faintly, though there was no warmth in it.
“I’m your father.”
***
{Outside The Projection}
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
…Huh.
Something more surprising than the pregnancy revealed itself.
A reveal so heavy that its mere existence explained every recent mystery.
Because, well, here he was, the one who’d likely buried all memory of this child before it could even take root.
Malik’s own father—the man who had abandoned him.
The one who had taken a wife, then left her to live with ruin.
They had only just seen him, yet hatred came quick and easy.
None of them could begin to imagine the storm Malik must have felt.
This was his father, appearing out of nowhere, standing before him after so many years of absence, after a life filled with Corruption and madness.
He came to a broken son, one who now faced yet another tragedy…
Yet another impossible choice with no mercy on either side.
But the hall did not need to imagine it for long.
As if pulled by an unseen thread, the entire crowd moved closer to the projection.
The area underfoot hummed faintly, as if aware of the moment.
Huda led the way, still holding Layla’s hand, who followed.
Both their eyes were fixed on Malik’s face, tears threatening to fall.
Azeem was right behind them, his steps heavy, like he was walking into certain death.
From the Golden Throne’s dais, Sinbad and Dunya descended slowly, their bodies trembling.
Even Scheherazade, joining everyone without them noticing, stepped close to his memories.
One by one, they crossed into what they called the pain zone—the ring of air around the projection that usually crushed the soul with Malik’s pain.
They braced for it, expecting their bodies to immediately seize…
At least for their chests to tighten, their knees to buckle…
It never came.
There was no unimaginable agony.
An unfathomably suffocating weight hadn’t come.
…Malik felt nothing.
Indifference had met them.
He reacted, yes, but ultimately felt ‘nothing.’
And that… that was what finally made tears fall from their eyes.
All of them, without exception, even those that had yet to acknowledge what they undeniably felt for him, stuck on the fact that he had killed their loved ones, began to cry, letting out unshaken sobs that they didn’t bother to hide.
Tears from this hollow absence of pain.
Nothing… Malik felt absolutely nothing for his own damned father.
Nothing for the first act of tragedy that had ultimatly led him here.
Not even pity or some other emotion, anything, for himself.
Oh, he truly was too far gone.
There was no bringing him back.
Malik was right; he was no more than a husk.
His soul had gone hollow, unable to even suffer.
A man long lost in madness.
Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com
