I'm in Love with the Villainess!

The chair turned slowly, as if pushed by an invisible hand.

The figure seated in it was me.

Not the me from now, with shadows coiled beneath my skin and a false hydra lurking in the corners of my consciousness. The me from before. From Earth. Dark hair, unremarkable clothes, the face of someone who had never cast a spell in his life.

"You look tired," the other me said.

"I am tired."

"When aren’t you?"

The other me smiled, and it was strange seeing that expression on a face that had once been mine. Strange and wrong, like looking into a mirror that reflected not what was, but what could have been.

"You could stop, you know," the other me continued. "Walk away. Let Marcellus handle the church. Let Trish and the other two handle the archmage. Let someone else carry the weight for once."

"And let millions die?"

"You’re not doing this for the people."

I grinned. "Of course, I’m doing it for Evelina."

"Then what about Trish? Have you completely forgotten about her? Sure, you love Evelina, but that was before you regained your repressed memories of Trish. Tell me, was she nothing to you? To us?"

I narrowed my eyes. Of course, the archmage wouldn’t make this easy for me. This wasn’t just a clone of me from my mind; it was a version of me from right after the Beijing incident, before my obsession with Evelina had reached its peak.

I was self-aware enough to know that, especially now that I had my memories back.

"It’s in the past," I replied.

"Yes, Trish died that day... but now she’s back..." the other me replied.

"You’re not the real me. You can’t tell me what to do."

"Then I’ll just steal your body from you."

I tilted my head and let out a disbelieving laugh. "What?"

"I’ll take control of your body, make a deal with the archmage for a soul-splitting spell, and live with Trish," he replied

This...

Is this version of me serious? Wait... does he even count as a version of me? This still has to be an illusion, right?

"You’re just an illusion, you can’t even back up what you say. Or are you so dumb you’re deluding yourself into thinking you’re real?"

"If I am an illusion, then you’re insane for talking to me in the first place. But that’s beside the point, because I ain’t an illusion, Nathan. You should know better. The archmage has spells that border on creating perfect clones, not just illusions."

"So you’re telling me you’re a perfect clone of my past self?"

"Exactly..."

The other me stood up from the chair, rolling his shoulders like he was settling into a body that didn’t quite fit. Same movements I used to make. Same little habits. It was unsettling in a way that had nothing to do with magic.

"You’re thinking about killing me," he said.

"Crossed my mind."

"Wouldn’t work. We’re connected now. Whatever you do to me, you do to yourself." He tapped his chest. "Archmage’s insurance policy. Clever old bastard, isn’t he?"

"Debatable."

I kept my shadows coiled close, not attacking but not retreating either. The chamber pressed in around us, the walls lined with those screaming faces, frozen in their eternal torment. The chair sat empty now, still turning slowly in place.

"So what’s your play?" I asked. "Fight me for control? Hope the archmage actually keeps his end of the bargain?"

"He will. He’s bored, not dishonest. Besides, he finds this entertaining."

"You’re not me."

"I’m exactly you. That’s the problem, isn’t it? You’ve been running from what you are for years. Hiding behind Evelina. Hiding behind your new students. Hiding behind this mission to stop the church." The other me took a step closer. "But you can’t hide from me. I’m the part of you that doesn’t care about any of that. I’m the part that just wants to be happy."

"And you think taking my body will make you happy?"

"I think it’ll make Trish happy."

My jaw tightened.

The other me saw it and smiled, that crooked smile that used to look back at me from bathroom mirrors. "There it is. That guilt. You think she doesn’t notice? You think she doesn’t feel it every time you look at her? She’s sharing a body with Evelina, Nathan. She knows exactly how you feel."

"I’m not—"

"You’re not what? In love with her? Still? After everything?" He laughed, soft and bitter. "You almost died for her. You made a deal with a demon because of your guilt for her. But sure. Tell yourself it’s all for Evelina."

I said nothing.

The other me circled me slowly, his footsteps silent on the marble floor. The screaming faces on the walls seemed to watch him pass, their carved eyes tracking his movement.

"The archmage gave me a choice," he said. "I could stay here, trapped in this library, watching you waste the second chance you have. Or I could take what’s mine."

"Nothing about this is yours." I hurled the book to the ground as the false hydra’s head manifested behind me, its cruel smile and bloodied face emerging, ready to pounce. "And you’re an idiot if you think I’ll let you defile Evelina’s love just so you can live in a fairytale with someone we once loved."

[Endless Fang]

The other me drew a perfect copy of my sword from the shadows, his hands tightening around the hilt as his eyes narrowed into something colder, deadlier.

So he has my powers too...?

"Die, Nathan," he said.

I only laughed, summoning the same sword and settling into my stance. "Have I always been such a selfish bastard that I’d even fight myself over an obsession...?"

"I think you already know the answer."

"Right..."

"The answer’s yes." We said it at the same time.

The other me moved first.

Same speed. Same instincts. Same opening strike I’d used a hundred times in training. His blade came in low, aiming for my ribs, and I parried it away with a sharp crack of metal against metal.

"You’re predictable," I said.

"So are you."

He twisted mid-step, bringing the sword around in a wide arc that I barely managed to duck. The blade whistled over my head, close enough to shear off a few strands of hair, and I retaliated with a thrust toward his chest.

He sidestepped. Of course he did.

We circled each other, swords raised, shadows writhing at our feet like agitated snakes. The false hydra’s heads loomed behind me, their invisible jaws gaping, but they couldn’t strike. Not without hitting me too.

"Having second thoughts?" the other me taunted.

"Just deciding where to bury the body."

"There is no body, Nathan. We’re the same. Kill me, and you kill a part of yourself."

"Trying to gaslight me? You know for a fact this sword could dispel any protective magic the archmage put on you with a single touch," I replied.

"Nothing gets past you, huh?"

"Now you’re just complimenting yourself at this point."

"We always did have a big ego."

The other me lunged again, but this time I didn’t parry. I stepped inside his guard, closer than the sword could cut, and drove my elbow into his throat.

He staggered back, gasping, and I followed.

Our blades met again, sparking in the dim light, but I kept pushing, kept pressing, kept forcing him back toward the chair. The screaming faces on the walls seemed to lean in, watching, waiting.

"You can’t win," he choked out, recovering his stance.

"I don’t need to win. I just need to last."

"Last for what?"

I didn’t answer.

Because behind him, behind the chair, behind the walls of screaming faces, I’d seen it. A crack. Thin, almost invisible, running from floor to ceiling like a fault line in reality itself.

This chamber was an illusion.

Not him. Not entirely. But the room, the walls, the sense of being trapped... that was all constructed. A construct slowly being cleaved open by the swords in our hands.

And if this chamber followed the same pattern as before, that meant that once these walls cracked open, more stupid illusions of previous students would start pouring in.

And unlike me, this bastard hadn’t developed the mental resilience and stubbornness I gained when Fiona died back in the Cold Iron District. That meant that while he was an exact copy of me in skill, he definitely wasn’t like me when it came to mental strength.

That meant that once those illusions started pouring in, he wouldn’t be able to handle the guilt of seeing their faces again.

It was a gamble, yes, but... judging by how obsessed he still was with Trish, I thought my gamble, that he was far less mentally resilient than I am now, would pay off.

"You’re looking at something," the other me said, his eyes narrowing.

"Just admiring the decor."

"Liar."

SLASH!

CLANG!

SLASH!

CLANG!

The crack widened.

Neither of us had moved toward it, but it grew anyway, splitting the carved faces in half, splitting the marble, splitting the very air. Through the gap, I could see something else. Another chamber. Filled with shapes that hadn’t fully formed yet.

Shapes that looked like people.

Shapes that looked like my students.

The other me followed my gaze, and for just a moment, his expression flickered. The cold confidence wavered, replaced by something rawer. Something human.

"You’re planning something," he said.

"I’m always planning something."

"You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You think I can’t see that crack? You think I don’t know what’s on the other side?"

"I think you know exactly what’s on the other side," I said, lowering my sword slightly. "I think that’s why you’re scared."

"I’m not scared."

"You’re shaking."

He looked down at his hands. The sword trembled in his grip, barely perceptible, but there. The same tremor I used to have, back when I still dreamed about the faces of everyone I couldn’t save.

"That’s not—"

"It is." I took a step closer. "You’re me. The me from before. The me who hadn’t learned to live with it yet. The me who buried everything in the Crown of Thorns to hide from his guilt."

"Shut up."

"The me who blamed himself for Trish. For Lucas. For all of them."

"And you’re telling me you’re above that now!?"

"No, but unlike you, spending time in this new world was more than enough to give me enough coping mechanisms to handle it, also... I really do love Evelina." I smirked at the last word.

He lunged, but the swing was wild, unfocused. I sidestepped easily and watched him stumble past me, off-balance, his sword scraping against the marble floor.

And with that, the crack split wider.