Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death-Chapter 254: Waste Of A Handsome Face

Huda blinked.

"…Wait, what? Already?!"

Malik nodded and answered a question he hadn't yet been asked:

"North. The Well Of Eternity."

She pouted.

"There's no need to catch up! Let your little big sister protect you! Just stay here with me!"

"..."

He said nothing.

"Fine, fine."

She mumbled and stepped back.

"You're going alone? You know it's dangerous, right? Have you fought a monster before? You might even get attacked by bandits, you know?! They're scary! And, and—what if you get lost? Do you even know how to get through the snow? The drifts are really deep now! And can you follow the routes? Oh, oh, and what about the signs? Do you know how to read them? What if you run out of food? Or if it gets dark? Or if—if you get hurt and no one's there to help you? Please, can't you wait a little? Or at least take someone with you? I—I—"

He looked at her with a deeper frown for a second, which finally made her pause.

"…Will you be okay?"

She asked, and he, who knew exactly who she had gotten this from, finally answered:

"Yeah."

A sigh escaped her.

"Will you be back?"

"..."

Malik didn't answer, or so she first thought, as he eventually opened his mouth.

"Not more than a month."

Huda folded her arms, looking frustrated, but quickly shook her head, accepting it.

"Okay. Wait. Hold on—"

She pulled something out from her sleeve.

A necklace with a small charm, a book.

Handmade, a little crooked, yet he didn't notice that.

His eyes only picked up on one thing and one thing alone: the pink S on the cover.

"It's... It's for my brother."

Malik's eyes slightly widened.

"Sin... Sinbad?"

She nodded.

"Take this. For luck... he kept me safe; he'll do the same to you."

He took it...

Held it in his palm...

And then wore it with all the reverence in the world.

"Thanks."

Huda stepped close, raising her chin at him.

"You better come back."

Malik stared at her.

And then… for the first time in so long...

He chuckled. A real one. Barely more than a breath. But enough.

Before she could react, gently, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"—?!"

Huda froze up.

"I will."

She went red in half a second.

Her face lit up like someone lit a match inside her skull.

"Y-You—! You can't just—! I mean—!"

He straightened, stepping back, while she began to wave her hands around.

"You can't just go around kissing people like that!"

"I didn't."

He was already walking.

"I—! Wait! That doesn't even make sense—!"

She stamped her foot, groaning:

"You're impossible!"

He waved once over his shoulder.

"...Goodbye."

...

As Malik stepped through the northern gates of the city, his new necklace dangling from his neck, the world opened up before him once more.

Here, the wind was even colder than below. And, unfortunately for him, that was far from all. The snow was heavier, and the land itself seemed tougher to navigate, worsened further by the Frozen Wall far ahead, easily seen even this far away. Walking itself was a challenge, as each step plunged his entire leg into a deep layer of snow, freezing him further.

It was as if the environment were an opponent, a bastard he had to beat.

And to make things worse than worse, Black was nowhere to be seen.

Malik could not hop onto his back and soar through the air...

He had to walk there himself.

This would be a challenge unlike any other he had experienced.

Sure, it could be compared to his time escaping Althawul, but that snow was fake, that snow went away, this didn't, this snow hit deep, bone deep, and it fought against his core. Generally speaking, his abilities were weaker here, more so his Devil's Footsteps; he knew it had slowed down considerably without even using it.

...This was the North.

Everything was his weakness here, everything.

But, unsurprisingly, he didn't seem to care.

Malik didn't look back, not even once.

He didn't think about what Cyrus said.

He didn't think about what it might cost.

All he knew was that somewhere out there was a chance for him to get stronger. A skip in his Path, one that'd push him forward much faster without needing him to torture himself for an unfathomable number of years.

It was chance that would bring him closer to his goal, the killing of the bastard who ended a pure life... a young one, a beautiful one.

His boots hit the snow, and for the first time in a long time, Malik felt like he was walking toward something instead of just away.

He didn't know what was going to happen, but he sure was ready for it.

***

{Outside The Projection}

The crowd was buzzing, like a market square before dawn.

But unlike usual, it was split. On one side—the women.

Oh, the women were in another world.

"Aw, did you see that?"

A young Magi gasped, grabbing her friend's arm.

"He kissed her forehead! Forehead! That's soooooo cute~!"

Another covered her mouth, eyes wide.

"God, I thought my heart was going to stop."

"He's so—ugh!—why are the best ones always untouchable?"

A fourth laughed, shaking her head.

"Physical, emotional, even if he doesn't look like it… he doesn't hold back."

"Not like these insensitive boys we're stuck with."

The last one chuckled, elbowing the man beside her.

He, presumably her husband, rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah..."

"Remember the widow?"

Someone piped up from behind.

"It's the same thing... He's always so delicate~!"

With that, they all turned to Huda, whose face was somehow redder than the one seen earlier in the projection.

"Look at her!"

An older woman giggled.

"After all these years, still blushing to the same kiss."

"I'd say Lady Huda's even worse now."

Another laughed, pointing.

"She's touching her forehead! She can still feel it!"

Were they jealous? Oh, very. But they were having fun with it, forgetting the self-imposed rule they had just vowed to never forget.

Of course, it wasn't all of them, but they were the loudest of them, leaving those like Layla momentarily forgotten, lost in their own grief.

"I swear, it's a crime..."

Some girl murmured dramatically.

"Such a waste of a handsome face."

"I agree... That face belongs in a love poem or carved into a palace wall!"

"...If only he smiled more."

One sighed wistfully, and the other shrugged.

"We'd all be dead then~."

Meanwhile, the other half of the crowd—mostly the men—watched with furrowed brows, arms folded, lips tight, and beards scratched.

"Hmm."

One of them grunted.

"That snow's no joke, huh?"

"Yeah, but still…"

A middle-aged Magi shook his head.

"I'm a fire element myself, been up north plenty of times. Only to the city, but whatever. Reaching the edge alone is something only the Sultan can do. Anyways, sure, the cold hits—but I've never felt it hit like that."

The men around him turned, nodding in quiet agreement.

"Besides..."

Someone else muttered.

"Shouldn't fire handle the cold just fine? Best counter there is, right?"

"Well, yeah."

The same Magi answered.

"But this is different. The Sultan is the fire. And sure, he can push back the cold more than most of us—but he also takes more damage from it."

"So, like… double the punch, double the hit back."

The old Magi nodded slowly.

"Exactly. But even then… this kind of impact is very strange."

He stroked his silver beard, eyes narrowed, then murmured under his breath:

"…You think it's his… soul?"

A few sharp breaths rippled through the group.

Damn. That actually made sense.

Was it because his soul was weak? Drained? On the edge of burning out? No shield left, nothing to protect his core?

They didn't know for sure. But it felt right.

At that realization, the conversation fell away, the silence settling heavy between them as all eyes turned back to Malik's figure, shrinking into the blinding white.

One thing was clear now—whatever waited for Malik at the Well of Eternity, none of them were ready for it. And honestly? Neither was he.