Being a villain is an absolute scam.
You're forced into tight, edge-lord leather armor, you have to rehearse monologues that would make a theater kid cringe, and you're required to possess a signature laugh that sounds like a hyena choking on gravel.
I, unfortunately, was currently suffering through all three.
My name used to be Mark. I was an accountant—a man of spreadsheets, lukewarm coffee, and zero physical activity. Now? I am Malakor the Betrayer, a mid-tier antagonist in the xianhua-inspired webnovel Eternal Holy War.
According to the plot, in exactly three months, I am scheduled to be decapitated by the Protagonist in a glorious, rain-soaked duel that serves as his "awakening" moment.
"I am definitely not getting paid enough for this," I muttered, adjusting the stiff, high collar of my midnight-black trench coat.
I stood in the center of the Azure City Market District. The sun was blinding, birds were chirping, and the civilians looked disgustingly peaceful. It was the perfect stage to commit a crime.
My survival plan was foolproof:
Commit a Petty Crime: Something low-class and embarrassing.
Get Reported: Ensure the Abyssal Sect hears about my "lack of villainous dignity."
Get Fired: Be cast out of the organization for being a loser.
Retire: Run to the countryside, change my name, and grow potatoes until the Protagonist finishes the story.
"Alright, Malakor," I whispered, cracking my knuckles. "Time to be a piece of trash."
I scanned the crowd for a victim. I needed someone who looked wealthy enough to make a scene, but fragile enough that I wouldn't accidentally start a boss fight.
Then, I saw her.
Standing by a fruit stall was a young woman in a pristine, white hooded cloak. She was examining an apple with the focus of a Master Alchemist. She looked soft, rich, and completely oblivious.
Perfect.
I strode forward, channeling my most toxic energy. I flared my Qi—the dark, oppressive mana of a Betrayer—causing the temperature to drop and the nearby commoners to shiver in instinctual fear.
"Hey!" I barked, slamming my boot onto the cobblestone.
The market went deathly silent. The girl in the white cloak froze and slowly turned. Beneath the hood, I saw locks of shimmering silver hair and eyes like polished sapphires.
Wait. Silver hair? Blue eyes?
A cold sweat broke out across my back. These were the exact physical descriptors of Elara Saint, the Holy Saintess. The Main Heroine. The one girl the Protagonist would literally burn down a continent to protect.
Shit. I just pulled the aggro of a Final Boss's girlfriend.
If I harassed her, the Holy Knights would turn me into a pincushion. But if I backed down now, I'd look like a cowardly failure—which, ironically, was exactly what I wanted. I just had to be annoying, not lethal.
"You!" I sneered, pointing a gloved finger at her face. "That apple! Hand it over right now!"
The Saintess blinked, her long lashes fluttering in confusion.
"...The apple?"
"Yes! The apple!" I roared, trying to sound like a C-tier thug. "I'm... uh... robbing you! Hand over the fruit, or face the devastating wrath of Malakor!"
It was pathetic. It was bottom-of-the-barrel villainy. I waited for her to scream, or for the guards to tackle me. Instead, a semi-transparent blue window flickered into existence right between my eyes.
[DING!]
[System Alert: Hostile Intent Detected toward an Essential Character.]
[The 'Rehabilitation System' has been triggered!]
[Auto-Correction Mode: ACTIVATED.]
"Wait, what?" I gasped.
Before I could process the words, my body moved on its own.
The hand I had extended to grab the apple suddenly jerked violently to the left. My legs, which were supposed to be standing firm, launched me forward in a blur of superhuman speed.
"Whoa—!"
I wasn't lunging at the Saintess. I was lunged past her.
In that exact millisecond, a distortion appeared in the air behind her. A jagged, poison-coated dagger materialized from the shadows, aimed straight for her exposed spine.
My hand—guided by the cursed System—slammed into the invisible assassin's wrist with the force of a falling meteor.
CRACK!
"AGHHH!" a muffled scream erupted from thin air.
The stealth spell shattered, revealing a high-level operative of the Shadow Guild—the rival organization to my own Sect. He collapsed to his knees, clutching a wrist that was now bent at a very unnatural angle.
I stood there, panting, my hand still held in a perfect martial arts "palm strike" position. Due to the momentum, I was practically chest-to-chest with the Saintess, my body acting as a human shield.
The assassin looked up at me, his eyes wide with pure terror.
"Malakor the Betrayer?! How did you sense my Void-Step Stealth? It's a Grade-A Hidden Art!"
I didn't! I was trying to steal a snack!
The System window chimed again.
[Task Complete: Protect the Key Heroine.]
[Calculated Logic: You sensed the hidden threat and used a 'Petty Robbery' as a ruse to close the distance without alerting the enemy.]
[Reward: +500 Reputation with the Church of Light.]
[Hidden Title Acquired: 'Misunderstood Protector'.]
"No," I whispered, my soul leaving my body. "No, no, no."
The Saintess lowered her hood, her face flushed with a mix of shock and awe. She looked at the sizzling purple acid dripping from the dagger on the floor, then back at me.
"You..." she whispered, her voice trembling. "You demanded the apple... because you knew it was poisoned?"
She looked at the fruit bin. The blade had grazed an apple, which was now melting into a puddle of toxic sludge.
"If I had touched it..." She looked at me, her blue eyes shimmering with newfound devotion. "You played the villain just to save me without causing a panic? You risked your reputation... for me?"
The surrounding crowd, which had been terrified a second ago, suddenly erupted into cheers.
"Did you see that?! Lord Malakor saw through a Void-Step!"
"He's not a Betrayer, he's a Guardian!"
"A dark hero in the shadows!"
I looked at the crippled assassin. "Please," I hissed at him. "Just stab me. I'll give you a free hit. Just make me look bad!"
The assassin scrambled backward, hyperventilating.
"He's mocking me! He's so confident he's offering me a free strike! Mercy! I surrender!"
He threw a smoke pellet and vanished into the wind.
I was left standing there, the "Hero of the Market." The Saintess reached out, her delicate hands trembling as she took mine.
"Sir Malakor," she said softly, a deep blush creeping up her neck. "I have misjudged your Sect. To think such a noble, selfless soul could exist within the darkness..."
[Affection Meter Unlocked: Elara Saint (Saintess)]
[Current Status: 'Intrigued/Deeply Moved' (20/100)]
I stared at the blue screen, then at the girl who was supposed to be my enemy, then at the crowd chanting my name.
"I just wanted to get fired," I whimpered.