Villain: Your Heroines Were Delicious - Chapter 117 - 38

Chapter 117: Chapter 38

Seijirou lay flat on his back, staring at the dark wooden beams of the ceiling.

The futon was comfortable, but his body felt like it had been put through an industrial thresher.

Every time he shifted, a different muscle group screamed in protest.

He held his hand up in the darkness, concentrating, and soon a faint, shimmering silver light coated his knuckles, the physical manifestation of his Ki.

It was the power he had dreamed of, the secret energy that separated the “extras” from the true powerhouses of this world.

He should have been ecstatic. He had unlocked the Spirit Circuits in a single day, a feat that would take most disciples years.

But the memory of the afternoon spar was a cold weight in his stomach.

Retsu hadn’t just beaten him; she had completely and utterly dominated him.

There was no struggle, no close calls, she had moved with a casual, terrifying efficiency that made his newfound power feel like a toy.

Did I actually get stronger? he wondered, his brow furrowed. He felt like he was even weaker than before.

He felt more vulnerable now than he had as a simple street-fighting delinquent.

Back then, he at least knew the limits of a human fist. Now, he was playing a game where the ceiling was invisible, and Retsu was already touching the stars.

He let the Ki dissipate, exhaling a long, weary sigh.

He needed to sleep.

Tomorrow, the “King of Acupuncture” would take over his education, and if the granddaughter was a hurricane, the grandfather was likely a tectonic shift.

*

*

*

While Seijirou wrestled with his ego, Retsu was gliding through the long, moonlit corridors of the estate.

Her expression was a calm, elegant mask, but internally, her mind was a whirlwind of frantic, analytical recalculations.

She was deeply, profoundly annoyed with herself.

For years, Retsu had operated as the perfect shadow. She had watched Seijirou through high-definition hidden cameras, tracked his heart rate via sensors in his watches, and analyzed every recorded interaction he had with other women.

She had simulated thousands of scenarios in her head. She had practiced her witty retorts, her seductive glances, and her “surprised” blushes in front of the mirror until they were indistinguishable from reality.

She was supposed to be the one in control.

She was the director; he was the star.

And yet… The memory of Seijirou leaning in, his face inches from hers, his voice dropping into that low, predatory growl, flashed through her mind.

Her heart rate spiked just thinking about it.

She had stuttered.

She had blinked like a confused child.

All her practiced lines had vanished, replaced by a humiliating, biological static.

The reason why she was so harsh on Seijirou during their spar earlier was to maintain what little majesty she had left in his eyes.

’It’s the lack of live data,’ she concluded, her eyes narrowing as she stepped into the cool night air of the courtyard.

Watching a recording is not the same as being in the blast zone. She had focused so much on the theory of Seijirou’s intimacy that she lacked the practical resistance to his physical presence.

Her logic then dictated a cold, clinical solution: she needed to observe him in action, live and in person.

She needed to build an immunity to his charm by watching him exert it on someone else while she stood in the room.

But who? Suzune and the inner circle were away, undergoing their own brutal awakenings. She could call them, but Retsu deemed their training more important than her immediate need for live presentation.

Touka and Rei were candidates, but they were miles away in the city.

Well, it couldn’t hurt to try and call them right? They look like they wouldn’t refuse if Seijirou makes a move on them.

Retsu stopped walking, her gaze falling on a lone figure sitting beneath a blooming sakura tree in the center of the courtyard.

From her gi, she is definitely one of her grandfather’s student.

The girl, Hiyori, was sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, her long black hair shimmering in the moonlight.

Her shoulders were shaking with silent, rhythmic sobs.

She was mourning Samu, the boy Retsu had so casually discarded the night before.

Retsu’s eyes lit up with a predatory, crystalline brilliance.

Of course, her grandfather’s female disciples.

This girl was the perfect subject. She was beautiful, and from her sobs she was currently emotionally unstable, which made her easy to mold, and most importantly, she was here.

Retsu adjusted her expression, shifting her features into a mask of profound, saint-ly empathy.

She moved toward the weeping girl, her footsteps making no sound on the grass, looking like a moon-bound spirit coming to offer comfort.

She then glided onto the grass, her movements as silent as the settling frost, and sat beside the shivering girl.

Hiyori gasped, her emerald eyes snapping wide as she scrambled to her feet, “L-Lady Retsu! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you! I-I was… I was..”

She looked like a cornered fawn, her face puffy and stained with the salt of her grief.

“Hush,” Retsu murmured, her voice a soothing, low-frequency hum that seemed to vibrate in the very air.

She offered a soft, luminous smile and patted the patch of mossy grass beside her. “The moon is too beautiful for such frantic movements. Please, sit. Let the night air cool your heart.”

Hiyori hesitated, her fingers twisting the fabric of her Gi, but the magnetic pull of Retsu’s presence was irresistible.

She lowered herself back onto the ground, her shoulders hunched.

“You can’t sleep,” Retsu stated, it wasn’t a question.

Hiyori shook her head, a fresh wave of tremors wracking her frame. “Every time I close my eyes… I see him. I see Samu-senpai. Those eyes… they weren’t the ones I knew. They were so empty, staring at me as if asking why I wasn’t there.”

Retsu didn’t respond with platitudes. She simply reached out and began to slowly, methodically caress Hiyori’s back.

Her touch was cold and precise, tracing the line of the girl’s spine with the detached focus of a surgeon.

Almost immediately, the dam broke.

Hiyori buried her face in her hands, her sobs echoing through the silent courtyard. “I regretted it so much! I should have told him! I should have grabbed his hand and told him I loved him years ago! I spent all my time being a ’supportive kouhai’ while he was drowning in his own silence. I could have saved him, Lady Retsu! I know I could have!”

Hidden by the shadow of her hair, Retsu’s eyebrows arched in genuine, dark intrigue.

Oh? So she was in love with that disposable toy? A slow, razor-sharp smile crept onto Retsu’s face, one that Hiyori couldn’t see.

Her mind, already warped by her obsession with Seijirou, began to spin a new web of psychological depravity.

What a delicious irony, Retsu thought. The woman Samu claimed to love drove him to the rope, and now the woman who loved Samu will be offered to the very man Samu died hating.

She wonder what Samu’s soul would look like if it could witness this? To see his “eternal love” and his “loyal admirer” both orbiting Seijirou… it’s almost too poetic.

Retsu leaned closer, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial, motherly tone. “There are so many people like you, do you know? The world is filled with ghosts of unsaid words. You are not alone in this regret.”

Hiyori looked up, her eyes wide and wet. “Is that… is that true? Does everyone feel this crushing weight?”

Retsu nodded slowly. “Most do. And many couldn’t handle that pain, but the ones who survive, the ones who truly find peace, are those who eventually choose to forget. Because only in forgetting can you find the space to be happy again.”

“Forget?” Hiyori whispered the word as if it were a sin as she shook her head violently. “I could never forget him. He was everything.”

“That is what they all say at first,” Retsu said, her eyes fixed on the moon. “But do you know how they eventually succeed? How they wash the ghost out of their eyes?”

Hiyori stared at her, mesmerized. “How?”

“The easiest, most effective method to forget a person is to replace them with a new one,” Retsu said, her voice clinical yet soft. “You are still young. You have a beauty that men would fight for and a heart that is far too vibrant to be buried in a grave with another. You cannot let this darkness consume you forever. And think of your senpai… he was kind, wasn’t he? Would a man so gentle truly want you to spend the rest of your life weeping in the dirt? No. He would want you to find a new light. He would want you to live your life without any regrets, and be happy.”

Hiyori went still.

She then looked back at the sky, the image of Samu’s gentle, living smile flickering in her mind.

Yes… he was always so selfless. He would hate seeing me like this.

The logic, twisted as it was, began to take root in her vulnerable psyche.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, offering Retsu a weak, grateful smile. “Thank you, Lady Retsu. I… I think I understand. I’ll try. I’ll try to look forward.”

“Good girl,” Retsu said, her smile broadening. “Now, go and get some rest. You have a very long day ahead of you tomorrow. You’ll need your strength.”

Hiyori nodded, stood up, and bowed deeply. She hurried off toward the female disciples’ quarters, her pace lighter than it had been in hours, fueled by a dangerous new hope.

The moment Hiyori’s silhouette disappeared into the dark, Retsu’s smile vanished.

Her face returned to its default state of cold, high-definition indifference.

She reached into her sleeve, pulled out a small bottle of high-grade medical alcohol, and began spraying her hands with obsessive intensity.

She rubbed them together until the skin was red, erasing the “contagion” of Hiyori’s touch.

She stood in the center of the courtyard for a few moments, the scent of antiseptic clashing with the fragrance of the sakura.

“One performer secured,” Retsu whispered to the wind. “Now, let’s see how you handle a grieving girl, Seijirou-kun.”

She hummed happily as she decided to return to her room to think of further plans, but she paused.

Who was that girl? She forgot to ask for her name. She thought for a moment before shrugged, thinking that it wasn’t important, she’s no one special anyway.

She resumed her steps and glided back toward the manor, her mind already moving on to the breakfast menu for the next morning.