I Am The Game's Villain-Chapter 594: Roda Moonfang

"Layla."

When John's voice rang out, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over me.

All excitement vanished in an instant, and whatever arousal I had might as well have been completely snuffed out.

"It's John," Layla said, pulling away from me with a breathy moan, her lips still slightly parted from our interrupted moment.

I frowned, running a hand through my hair as I tried to process. "What the hell is he doing here? I don't remember giving him this address."

Layla simply shrugged. "I needed to see and talk to my brother before leaving, so I asked him to come straight here."

"You could've at least told him to come later…" I grumbled.

She giggled, rising on her toes to plant a quick, teasing kiss on my lips. "Relax, honey. We'll have plenty of fun once you're off this island."

I sighed. "Right… But you should take a shower first." frёewebηovel.cѳm

Layla nodded, turning to call out to her brother, "Wait for me in the lobby, brother. I won't be long." And with that, she disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the silence.

I sighed as I pulled my pants back up, running a hand down my face.

Of all the times for him to show up, he had to pick now?

"Wait—!"

A sudden realization hit me like a slap.

My gaze darted toward the closet.

Shit.

My stomach twisted. She's still in there.

My eyes flickered toward the bathroom door as the water started to run. I didn't have much time. Swallowing thickly, I hurried over to the closet, hesitating for just a moment before slowly pulling the door open.

She was still facing away, her body unmoving.

Don't tell me she's actually dead?

Not that I'd feel much guilt—she did try to kill me, after all—but I still needed answers.

Then I saw it.

A violent shiver ran through her body at the sound of my voice.

She turned her head slowly, and I was immediately met with a pair of burning white eyes filled with unfiltered rage.

"MMPH!!" She tried to yell, but the gag muffled her voice into nothing but furious, incoherent sounds.

She looked even angrier than she had yesterday.

I raised a brow, noting something strange. She had been awake for a while now—long enough that she could have made a scene, banged on the closet walls, or screamed loud enough for Layla to hear. But she didn't.

So she had some sense of restraint, at least.

Still, I could tell something was off. Her posture, the slight tremble in her body—she was in a weakened state.

And that could only mean one thing.

Something was seriously wrong with her.

She should have been strong—stronger than me, without a doubt. I could tell just by looking at her. Everything about her screamed power, yet I had overwhelmed her so easily, as if something inside her had been shattered, drained, or broken.

Whatever it was, it had left her vulnerable.

But that wasn't my problem.

I stood up and made my way to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. Then, stepping back toward her, I crouched down so we were at eye level.

"I'll take off the gag," I said. "But if you even think about screaming, I'll cut your tongue out. Got it?"

Her piercing white eyes locked onto mine, radiating nothing but seething anger. But after a tense pause, she gave a curt nod.

Slowly, I loosened the tie around her mouth and pulled it free.

She let out a shaky breath but didn't say a word. Instead, she tilted her head back as I pressed the rim of the glass to her lips, drinking the entire thing in deep, desperate gulps.

She must've been suffocating in that cramped space.

I refilled the glass and offered it again. Without hesitation, she drank greedily, her throat working quickly to swallow every last drop.

Once she was finished, I set the glass aside and looked at her carefully.

"Who are you?" I asked.

Her expression remained dark, her flushed cheeks burning a shade of red.

Why?

Because I was topless?

[<I'm pretty sure it's something else, Edward.>]

Cleenah's voice rang in my head, sounding more amused than usual.

I wonder why.

[<Sadist.>]

Ignoring her, I repeated myself. "I'll ask again. Who are you?"

The woman hesitated but she seemed to have calmed a bit. Then, at last, she spoke.

"Roda."

I blinked. Once. Twice.

"Roda?" I repeated, scanning her from head to toe. She threw another glare my way, but I ignored it.

She couldn't be Roda.

The resemblance was there, sure. But something felt…off. The way she carried herself, the subtle differences in her features—everything else about her was different.

"Are you Roda's lost sister or something?" I asked skeptically.

"I am RODA—hmmfh!!"

Before she could raise her voice, I clamped my hand over her mouth, silencing her instantly. Then I shot her a warning glare.

For a brief moment, I felt like the worst kind of scumbag—hiding a side chick in the closet while my woman showered in the next room.

Damn it.

Leaning in, I whispered harshly, "Keep your voice down unless you want Layla to hear you." I narrowed my eyes. "If she does… she'll rip you apart, and I won't lift a damn finger to stop her."

The woman calling herself Roda narrowed her eyes. Suspicion lingered in her expression, but after a moment, she gave a short nod.

"Now, tell me your real name," I said, watching her carefully.

"I am Roda," she said it again.

"Which Roda?" I asked, arching a brow. "What, did Brian Moonfang name two of his daughters Roda just to confuse everyone?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She said nothing.

She wanted to respond—I could see it in the way her throat tightened—but something held her back. Mistrust. Caution. Maybe even fear.

[<Edward, she is Roda. But… her signature is off. She doesn't belong to your timeline.>]

My eyes widened in shock.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

[<Yes. She's older, but there's no doubt—it's Roda Moonfang. My guess? She was caught in one of Nevia's spells when Leon was defeated in the last timeline.>]

I froze.

So that was it.

Everything suddenly clicked into place. Her cold hatred. The attempt on my life. That heavy tension every time our eyes met. It wasn't me she despised—it was who she thought I was.

She believed I was Leon—the man who ruined her life in that other timeline. She thought I'd do it again.

No wonder she came at me with such fury.

I looked up at her, now understanding.

"You tried to kill me because… you think I'll end up destroying Central Vedelia. That I'll wipe out your friends, your family—everything you care about. Right?"

I needed confirmation.

Her gaze hardened, but something shifted in her eyes. Doubt. Confusion.

Because no matter how much I looked like him—how much I might look like him I wasn't him.

"But here's the truth: I'm not the Edward who did those things. I'm not the one from your timeline."

That caught her completely off guard.

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

"Tim… timeline?" She stuttered. "I–I'm not in the past?"

Her voice was full of shock. And then, slowly, her features softened—not with trust, but with dawning realization. The little differences she had likely noticed were beginning to make sense now.

"So that's why…" she whispered.

"You get it now? I'm not—"

"You're going to kill everyone," Roda interrupted coldly.

It was like everything I'd said just flew straight through her—one ear in, the other out. No matter how much I tried to explain, she clung to her version of me.

"I won't," I snapped, annoyed. "I'm not the same damn Edward. You should've figured that out by now. If I really was that bastard—do you think you'd still be breathing? Come on. If you had shown up and recognized me, that guy would've ended you without blinking."

Roda flinched at my words. Her lips parted as if she had something to say—but no sound came out. She couldn't deny it.

Leon would've killed her. No hesitation. No questions.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

"Look, it's… complicated. Way too much to dump on you right now. But just wrap your head around this: you're in a different timeline. Here, things didn't play out the way they did in yours. In this one, the Olphean House still stands. Alea and Christina Olphean are alive. A lot of people you probably thought were dead are still breathing. And me? I'm not planning to burn it all down. If anything, I just want to get out of this damn place in peace."

Her brows knit together. "What are you…?" She mumbled, clearly overwhelmed and struggling to understand.

Yeah. It was a lot. I could see it in her eyes—this wasn't just confusing. It was shattering everything she believed was true.

"Just… hold that thought," I said, stepping forward.

Before she could react, I slipped the gag back into her mouth. She let out a muffled protest, glaring at me, but I ignored it. With a soft sigh, I closed the closet door again.

A few minutes passed.

Layla emerged from the bathroom, looking fresh and radiant in a new dress that fit her perfectly. Her long, flowing hair framed her face like silk, and the scent of her perfume—something soft and floral—teased my senses.

It was almost intoxicating.

My instincts stirred again, whispering sweet temptations in my ear. But I pushed them back. Barely.

She looked at me with a playful glint in her eyes. "Honey?"

"Go ahead," I said quickly. "I'll join you after I shower."

Layla giggled, brushing past me with that teasing sway in her step, and left the room.

The moment I was sure she was gone, I dashed into the bathroom, took the fastest shower I could manage, and threw on a fresh set of clothes. Tying my hair back I moved back toward the closet.

With one deep breath, I opened the door.

"Let's talk."