Villain Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

“What did you just say? Den Frow is what now?”

Den’s going to supervise me? No way. No damn way. Our bad blood is on a level one can’t even imagine.

Trying to explain our relationship would take an entire night and I’d still run out of time.

Especially the three years I spent being hunted by him. The absolute worst years of my life. All because I clocked him in the back of the head and ran.

Just hearing Den Frow’s name sends shivers down my spine and now he’s going to personally oversee me? That’s a nightmare. A real, living, breathing nightmare.

“Tell me you’re joking. Please. Tell me that’s a joke.”

I was begging now. My mouth had gone dry.

Maybe I should just go back to prison. That might be better.

“Den’s supervising me?! I never agreed to this. Turn the car around! Right now!”

But the two guys in the front just shrugged, as if I was making a fuss over nothing. One of them tapped on the partition.

“Hey, chill out. We’re almost there.”

Chill out, my ass. You bastard.

This must be how a prisoner feels on the way to the gallows.

Chest tight, pulse hammering through my limbs, heart dropping into my stomach. I was shivering so badly, even my jaw was trembling.

If I were that prisoner, I’d be screaming, I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!

And then the car stopped. As if on cue, my breath did too.

I slowly raised my head, pale as a ghost.

Through the window, a forest of high-rise buildings loomed. Downtown.

It was a place I found unfamiliar and utterly suffocating.

The sun glinted off glass towers, the roads were spotless without a single scrap of trash. Civilians moved obediently in sync with traffic lights.

Just looking at it made my skin crawl. It felt like the whole city was shouting at me: You don’t belong here. Get out, you filthy sewer rat.

And honestly? I agreed. I wanted out of here so badly. I hated cleanliness. It didn’t suit me.

What felt more like home to me was Austin Field, the worst slum in the city.

Junkies lingering on street corners day and night, broken concrete littered with used needles and trash.

Kids played soccer in a defunct chemical plant with crushed aluminum cans, and the air reeked of something foul. Probably weed.

Old, cramped apartments crammed with immigrants—Arabs, Mexicans, Italians, Chinese. Neighbors who couldn’t understand each other yelling and fighting every other day.

That’s where our Clenner HQ was, by the way.

508 West D Street, Austin Field. Hidden behind the back of a laundromat called “Clenner Coin Laundry.”

Anyway, that’s why I hate places that are neat and refined. I can’t stand people who grew up in warm, loving homes. I can’t even look them in the eye.

It makes me feel uneasy, ashamed, like I want to disappear.

But no matter how badly I wanted to run, the car door swung open. It felt like the gates of hell had opened.

“Get out.”

“No.”

“I said, get out.”

“No! Take me back to prison!”

They grabbed me and yanked me out of the car, my body curling up like a hedgehog.

I hit the ground looking like a mess, gasping for breath, scanning the area in a panic. Passersby stared, like they were watching something interesting.

Not surprising. I was still in my prison uniform.

That bright orange jumpsuit from top to bottom stood out like a sore thumb in a world of polished suits and shiny shoes. I looked like an orange alien that had crash-landed here.

“Quit making this hard. Let’s go.”

Slowly, I looked up.

The building towered above everything else. It crushed my spirit just by standing there.

A skyscraper that scraped the sky, flanked by a massive statue of the founder. I stared up at it with a sickly face and slumped shoulders.

Walking forward wasn’t hard, though. Not because I wanted to, but because they were dragging me by the arms. My feet dragged uselessly along the ground.

Ugh. This sucks. Why did I betray Demon Clenner again?

For the first time, I felt a flicker of regret.

“Ah! Hello, sir!”

“Hello! What brings you here…?”

The guys dragging me stiffened like soldiers standing at attention. Footsteps echoed. Click, clack.

I slowly lowered my gaze from the top of the skyscraper.

Shiny shoes stopped right in front of me.

“……”

I had a pretty good guess whose shoes those were. God, I hoped I was wrong.

“I’ll take it from here.”

That voice confirmed my worst fear.

Low, cold, commanding. A shadow so heavy it felt like it could swallow me whole. A hand clamped down hard on my shoulder.

There was no pretending not to know.

That relentless, merciless devil of a man.

Everything about him was seared into my cells. I shrank like a mouse before a cat.

I am a villain. I can’t let some hero scare me!

…Okay, yes, I was scared, but it’s not like I could show it.

“Hi, Den. Long time no see. You been well?”

I forced a casual smile and gave a relaxed greeting. The corner of my mouth twitched uncontrollably.

The second I met his eyes, sweat broke out down my spine.

He hadn’t changed.

The kind of face you’d see on the cover of a magazine. Lean, sharp body without an ounce of fat. His eyes were dark, focused, calculating. Unflinching.

He looked at me like a panther in tall grass, silently watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

I rubbed my neck instinctively. The suppressor collar itched.

Den ignored my greeting and jerked his chin.

The guys holding me let go and backed off.

I wobbled a bit, in fact nearly toppled over, but the bruising grip on my shoulder kept me upright.

Should I… thank him for that?

“My shoulder really hurts, you know. You’ve gotten stronger or something. Ha ha… maybe ease up next time, yeah? It’s been a while.”

Den said nothing. Just grabbed me and started walking, his expression carved from stone.

Maybe he’s gone deaf? All those explosions over the years must’ve messed with his hearing.

Poor guy. So young and already falling apart. Hope he retires soon.

Anyway, I was being dragged along by the shoulder like a rag doll, practically cradled against Den Frow’s chest.

We passed through the automatic doors into a massive lobby with ceilings like a gymnasium.

“Hmm.”

Money really does buy everything.

If my foster father had spent less time planning terror attacks and more time saving money, maybe we’d have had something like this.

The Heroes Company HQ was no joke.

We crossed the wide-open lobby under a storm of stares.

It was suffocating. Every pair of eyes burned into me, full of curiosity, suspicion, disgust.

Den, on the other hand, didn’t even flinch.

Maybe he was just used to it. Dealing with the public, the media. People say there’s no difference between heroes and celebrities nowadays. They weren’t wrong.

As soon as Den appeared, the security doors swung open without a hitch. No scans. No ID checks.

That’s S-Class privilege for you.

We stepped into a glass elevator.

But then, the three guys who had followed us stopped outside and didn’t get in.

No. No, come on. You guys too. Get in. Please.

Of course, the doors closed in their faces.

Leaving just the two of us.

The elevator hummed softly as it rose.

“……”

My whole body tingled. My throat was dry.

Awkwardness. Embarrassment. And fear. All tangled together.

I have this unfortunate habit. I can’t stand long, awkward silences.

If I’m sitting next to someone and the silence stretches out, I have to say something. And it always makes things worse.

Like I have some moral duty to lighten the mood. Despite the fact that I suck at it.

And just like always, my mouth moved before my brain could stop it.

“How long are you planning to hold me like this? Gonna kiss me or something?”

“……”

“You sure this is okay? People can see us out there. If they think we’re dating, your reputation could take a nosedive…”

Den Frow’s reaction was instant.

He slammed me against the wall of the elevator. Bang! A sound loud enough to echo.

Before I could crumple to the floor, he pinned me there, face lowering slowly.

I could practically hear the growl in his throat.

“You’d better watch your mouth. There’s no one here to save you now.”