Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death - Chapter 435: Goddamned Fool
***
{Outside The Projection}
Thankfully for Layla’s honor.
Or rather, for all their lives…
The projection had skipped over the “extraction.”
All they saw was the end, and even then…
Even then, there was a lot to take in.
Way, way too much, if they were honest.
They were denied the expected catharsis from such “meet the father” moments.
Tears were never going to happen; they knew that much, but at least some big emotional confrontation, a ‘something’ to crack.
Instead, all they were left with was Malik still in his void, trying and failing to be something more, and Hakim coming across as more pragmatic than fatherly.
It had fully crystallized the ‘Circle of Fools’ built earlier.
Malik’s entire life had been about fathers and him, a son—fathers failing him, fathers abandoning him in sacrifice, fathers repeating the same cycle of cruelty, depending on him, for there was no one else to depend on.
Hakim revealed himself, not as a savior, but as yet another link in that chain.
No one learned, no one broke the pattern; they just repeated the cycle with new faces.
It had made it all so damned cold that Malik did the surgery himself, showing his utter lack of trust and his inability to relinquish Layla’s body to anyone—even his father.
Protective and desperate in equal measure.
Malik’s “ahem” had done the impossible.
Vigorous enough to force life where it shouldn’t have been.
And apparently, Malik and Layla were the worst match the Heavens could’ve arranged.
How ironic was it for this to be the case both biologically and relationship-wise?
Yet they didn’t breathe in that irony, too busy going over “STAND UP.”
The first thing that happened between them.
It had taken hold.
…A wonderful reunion, wasn’t it?
Malik had beaten the living shit out of his father.
And, unexpectedly, his father, despite his earlier trepidation, allowed it to happen.
He took every punch, and no matter what he said, he followed his son’s words.
His bloody mess of a face didn’t stay for long, however… that pill…
The man was not of this world.
That much was obvious to them all.
‘Technology…’ or so he called it.
Yet, and again, what stuck to them was a different truth.
Malik, being an Al-Assad, what had slipped past them until now.
It was incredible how such a throwaway line held true and how much it all explained.
More than that, the East was apparently still a mystery to their Sultans; even to those capable of creating such technology, its blood foreign, explaining why it was so easily stained by Corruption… the old slur rising unbidden in their minds:
Hex Bloods.
And then the other thing.
The thing that soured every mouth in the hall.
Hakim, cool as could be, spoke of hypnotizing Mariam, bending her will.
The bastard had seduced her mind with his spells and raped her.
Gasps had rippled when he said it.
…They hated him for it, but—
In the end, they saw him save Malik’s daughter.
Yes, ‘daughter…’ that word changed everything.
It climbed into their hearts and stayed there, stubborn as their Sultan before certain death.
Layla… oh, Layla easily felt it more than any of them.
Her hands trembled in Huda’s grasp, unable to stay still.
She was a mother.
Somewhere—right now—was her child.
…Amal.
Amal wasn’t just a child.
She was Malik’s true backbone.
‘My… daughter.’
A smile broke over her face, fragile but shining.
She hadn’t failed completely. Yes, she hadn’t been his pillar, but…
But she had done one thing—one thing that mattered a whole lot.
And oh, she was so damn glad.
So, so glad.
She had given Malik a daughter.
A reason to endure the cruelty of this world.
A face to remember when the Path turned dark.
The light to guide his steps.
His pillar of hope.
‘Amal…’
‘Amal.’
‘…Amal.’
How sweet that name sounded.
Tears continued to slip down her cheeks.
Huda, still holding her hand, pulled her into an embrace, tears running freely as well, her grin wide as the Twelve Moons.
“I-I really am an aunt!”
She laughed through the sobs.
The hall swelled with warmth, if only for a heartbeat.
They all allowed themselves to be happy in these fleeting moments.
Because, well… they knew what came next… the goodbye.
Malik wouldn’t be able to handle saying farewell.
And Layla… his wife… no longer would he try.
This was the point that broke what remained.
Their failed relationship lost its only light.
Only darkness was left between them.
A darkness that led to this…
This ‘today.’
***
{Inside The Projection}
Hakim’s hands cradled something of a glass tube with all the gentleness in the world, acting like it was the best of Holy Relics, a Ten Commandment.
Inside, suspended in pale fluid, was the tiny shape of the child, floating with wires and silver filaments curled around her like a spider’s web.
It was a strange kind of coffin he buried her in…
One that still held breath.
…Gave him hope.
Malik’s eyes traced the outline of his daughter’s form.
They held obvious recognition yet no sorrow.
His hollowness didn’t even allow him to mourn his child’s departure.
“It’s fine, son. One day, when I can come back, I’m sure you’ll be crying your eyes out after seeing her.”
Hakim’s gaze drifted from the tube to Malik, his brows lifting with a faint interest.
“So forget that for now… I’m sure you already have a few guesses, but do you really not want to know exactly why I didn’t visit? Seeing as how you’re the Sultan, I’m sure you’ve learned to be quite curious. Here’s your chance! Ask me why again, and I’ll answer you.”
Malik shook his head.
“You got me right last time; I don’t care why.”
His eyes met his father’s.
“AT ALL. Just don’t involve me in whatever trouble you’re in; I’ve got enough on my plate.”
Hakim slightly lowered his head at that, disheartened, and yet Malik continued, caring not for him:
“You were never my father. You still aren’t. I had a guardian… an Old Cane. Mahdi. He was my father. As was another… and another… I’ve had many fathers, you see.”
For a moment, Hakim almost smiled—some faint flicker of pride in his eyes—but Malik’s words cut across it before it could live.
“They’re all dead.”
His stare was steady, stripped of any mercy.
“By my own hands…”
It held enough hatred to swallow Fam Iblis.
“…I’ve killed them all.”
Hakim’s shoulders seemed to fold inward, his head bowing further, understanding just how twisted his son’s past was from the way he said those words alone, making him utter the only thing anyone could at that moment:
“I’m sorry.”
Yet Malik didn’t let him linger in the sentiment.
“If you are, then do me a favor.”
Raising his head, Hakim’s eyes narrowed in surprise.
“Tell me. I’ll do anything.”
“Use your… technology.”
Malik’s answer came without hesitation.
“Make Layla forget. Make everyone forget this baby ever existed.”
The request settled heavily between them; the coldest mercy imaginable.
Erasure as a form of love.
Hakim didn’t speak right away; his gaze kept shifting, as if calculating the scope of such a thing.
Eventually, he nodded and asked:
“And Azeem?”
He gestured to somewhere beyond the door.
“Even that talking owl calming that sweet girl?”
Malik gave a single nod.
“Everyone.”
Hakim studied him for another beat, then let out a long breath.
“It will take some time to ensure it… but consider it done. I’ll just need to go get my stuff.”
He adjusted his grip on the glass tube and then added:
“Son… there will come a day when Corruption returns to this land. Whatever you’ve done, it isn’t enough.”
Malik’s gaze didn’t waver.
“I’ve made my preparations. IT has taken enough from the world; I won’t allow IT to take what’s left of my soul as well.”
That, once more, drew the faintest smile from Hakim.
“That’s what I like to hear.”
Though, again, as if on purpose, Malik’s next words cut through it:
“Don’t tell Amal of us.”
With a face that didn’t know what emotion to show, Hakim sighed, obviously confused.
“Nothing? Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Malik was certain, and Hakim found that hypocritical.
“Aren’t you becoming like me by doing this?”
Wrong words, maybe the worst thing he could’ve said.
Malik’s golden eyes brightened, making even Hakim flinch.
He felt death’s intent from his son for the first time, and it had him shaken.
“You might not be my father, but you are her grandfather. Isn’t this what parents do when they know they can’t take care of their child? I haven’t abandoned a broken home like you did… unless you don’t plan to—”
Hakim immediately raised both hands, waving them around in a panic.
“No, no, no! Don’t kill me now, yeah?”
He had surrendered completely, knowing better than to continue this.
“I’ll be sure to treat her like a princess… but, seriously, son, are you really sure about this?”
Malik’s intense eyes calmed, revealing a tragic future, his Silent Requiem.
“Yes. It’s too cruel for her to know a father who’s sure to die.”
Hakim’s eyes trembled at those words, though he didn’t dare show his worry, knowing that his son would never accept it.
“Alright, I’ll spoil her rotten, trust me.”
Malik shook his head a second time.
“Don’t spoil her. I can’t have my child be a brat.”
Hakim chuckled.
“It’s just a phrase; don’t take everything literally. I don’t know how your wife even handles living with you.”
Ignoring that last part, Malik nodded.
“Good. Only let her know of us when I’m gone. And… be sure to take many… images of her as she grows up; her mother would love to see them.”
The sadness in Hakim’s eyes had only grown stronger.
“…I will.”
Malik scanned them, searching for a lie.
“If you mistreat her in any way, I’ll rise from the grave and annihilate you.”
Hakim sneered, or at least tried to, struggling to hide the despair he now felt.
“Annihilate, not even kill, huh?”
Golden eyes threatened to brighten.
“Alright, alright, don’t worry.”
With that, Malik stepped forward and leaned towards the tube.
“Grow up well…”
Its strange shimmer of light crawled over his form.
“My hope.”
Malik glanced back at his father.
“Goodbye.”
Hakim nodded one last time.
“Farewell…”
A tear fell.
“My son.”
Just like that, he was gone.
The glass tube—and the child—gone with him.
Everything felt strangely still afterward, as if time had paused.
Yet it hadn’t, for Layla, beneath the covers once more, could be seen breathing.
Her breaths were no longer ragged, the deep lines of pain on her face already fading.
The soft lamplight caught on the strands of her purple hair where it spilled over the pillow.
“My wife…”
Malik stepped closer, his shadow falling across her.
“I won’t be there to see our daughter all grown up.”
He reached down, fingertips brushing lightly over her hair.
“But I hope you’ll be there.”
His palm rested on her head, so, so warm.
“Take care of her, alright?”
The room gave no answer…
Thump.
Only the quiet rise and fall of her chest.
Malik thought of Hakim, his own father’s silence.
And he realized he was about to give Layla the same.
Another link… another circle.
Another Goddamned fool.
Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com
