Chapter 1 : Chapter 1
Chapter 1: I Really Never Wanted to Be a Villain
Morning light filtered through the not-so-clean lattice window of the inn, spilling warmly across Ryan’s face.
A young man frowned and buried his head deeper into the pillow. His cheek brushed against the rough linen fabric, and at the tip of his nose lingered a strange scent—a mixture of old wood and cheap cleaning solution.
He suddenly opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was the canopy above the bed—somehow familiar yet completely foreign. It was made of dark blue cloth, with golden patterns embroidered along the edges.
The gold thread had worn down so much that the design now looked like a patchy, abstract bird that had lost most of its feathers.
Ryan blinked. The excitement and exhaustion from clearing 《Holy Light and the Seven Sins》 the previous night still lingered in his body. Yet the scene before him…
He raised a hand to rub his eyes, only to realize that the hand did not seem to be his.
The fingers were slender, the skin almost unnaturally pale, and the nails were neatly trimmed. It looked nothing like his original hands, whose knuckles had grown slightly misshapen from staying up late playing games and hammering away at a keyboard.
“What’s going on…” he muttered as he sat up.
A faint wave of dizziness washed over him, like the lightheadedness of standing up too quickly with low blood pressure—yet something about it felt different. It was as though something were stirring inside his mind. A flood of unfamiliar images and sensations surged forward.
Then he remembered.
Last night—no, more precisely, the night of his “previous life”—he had been staring at the screen, grinning foolishly as the Saintess and the seven witches walked hand in hand toward a field of lilies in the game’s perfect ending. His heart had been filled with a sense of accomplishment, tinged with a faint emptiness.
Then his heart had suddenly clenched. His vision went black.
After that, he remembered nothing.
When he opened his eyes again, he had become this.
Ryan.
Ryan Velt.
A third-year student at Saint Roland Magic Academy, and the only son of a declining noble family.
In simple terms, he had transmigrated into that character from the game—the one whose family was on the verge of collapse, whose personality was utterly detestable, and who ultimately died after being gloriously beaten to death by the heroine’s group.
On the game’s forums, in the poll for “The Villain NPC Players Most Want to Kill with Their Own Hands,” this guy had remained firmly in the top three for years. That alone spoke volumes about his ability to attract hatred.
“Transmigration is one thing…” Ryan scratched his unfamiliar dark-brown hair. The texture felt slightly dry. “But why did I have to become this unlucky bastard who doesn’t even survive thirty percent of the story?”
He remembered it far too clearly.
In the early stages of the game, this character relied on his noble background and genuinely impressive magical talent to bully others around the academy. He constantly tripped up the heroine—who had just enrolled as a new student—while flaunting his arrogance.
He had practically written the words “arrogant, stupid, and cruel” across his face, successfully drawing most of the players’ early-game hostility.
And the result?
During the academy promotion tournament—the first major climax of the protagonist’s storyline—he was publicly crushed by the Saintess, who had not yet even reached her full potential.
His miserable defeat marked his exit from the stage, turning him into the very first shining stepping stone on the protagonist’s path to fame. After that, he essentially vanished from the plot.
A classic case of “intimidating presence in the early game, an experience pack in the midgame, and completely forgotten in the late game.”
Ryan sighed and got out of bed, resigning himself to the situation.
His bare feet touched the cold stone floor, sending a shiver through his body that instantly dispelled the last traces of drowsiness.
The room was small. Its furnishings were simple to the point of looking shabby, though everything had been kept relatively tidy. Judging by the style, it was probably a modest inn.
A slender decorative sword hung on the wall. The scabbard had been polished until it shone brightly. A small potted plant sat on the windowsill, its leaves drooping slightly, as though it had not been watered in a while.
His stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly. The hunger felt very real.
Since things had already come to this, he might as well eat first.
Fragments of memory surfaced in his mind. It seemed that the academy term would begin in a few days. He had just arrived from the Viscount’s territory by carriage, heading to the city nearest the academy to prepare for enrollment.
The journey from the Velt Viscount Territory to Saint Roland Magic Academy had taken four full days by carriage.
As a declining viscount family, the Velts struggled just to maintain their daily living expenses. Naturally, the carriage he had ridden was the cheapest kind available.
Even now, he could feel phantom aches in his legs and backside from the miserable ride.
He recalled that his money pouch was in the drawer. When he opened it, he found more than a dozen gold coins and quite a few silver coins inside. They clinked pleasantly against each other.
It seemed that although the Velt family had declined, Ryan’s personal allowance had not yet been cut off. At the very least, he still had the basic financial support expected of a noble’s son.
He washed up, changed into the neatly pressed dark-blue academy robe, and put on a thicker coat over it.
Ryan looked at himself in the blurry bronze mirror hanging on the wall.
The person in the mirror had dark-brown hair sticking up in several messy tufts from sleep. His complexion was pale, the sort that came from a lack of outdoor activity. However, his facial features were not bad at all.
His nose bridge was straight, and the line of his jaw was almost excessively delicate. His gray-blue eyes looked somewhat listless, but once cleaned up, he still appeared fairly presentable—so long as he did not deliberately wear the arrogant expression that the original owner had loved to show.
This was “Ryan Velt,” the noble young master from the game’s character art who always wore a sour expression and carried a gloomy gaze.
And now, that shell belonged to him.
When he pushed open the creaking wooden door of the inn, the morning sunlight and fresh air poured in together.
He was currently in White Bell City, the closest city in the entire empire to the magic academy.
Although it was considered a small city, it had grown lively because it served as the gateway to the academy. Most students stopped here before the term began. Merchants had gathered as well, selling magical tools and daily necessities.
White Bell City truly lived up to its reputation as the academy’s front gate. The streets were wide and clean, the buildings brightly colored.
Green vines climbed along pointed roofs and arched structures. Many shops decorated their entrances with flickering miniature magic lamps or floating crystal spheres.
The whole place felt fantastical and vibrant.
It was mealtime. Tempting aromas drifted through the air.
Following the scent, Ryan found a busy roadside restaurant and chose an outdoor table near the edge.
A young waiter wearing a neat white shirt and a dark-green apron approached quickly, smiling as he handed over a wooden clipboard menu.
Ryan glanced through it and, imitating the choices from the original owner’s memory, ordered a sizzling venison loin steak with berry sauce, a bowl of creamy dill soup, and a glass of honey sparkling wine that was apparently a local specialty.
While waiting, he observed his surroundings and used the rare moment of quiet to sort through the tangled memories in his mind.
At the very least, the timeline had become clear.
This was two years before the start of the game’s main storyline.
The golden-haired Saintess who would one day save the world and restore the reputation of witches—Alicia—was probably still in the Empire’s Holy City at the church headquarters, being indoctrinated with the orthodox belief that “witches are dangerous heretics.”
Of course, Ryan knew the truth.
When Alicia was a child, she had once been saved by a kind ordinary witch. Because of that, the church would never truly brainwash her.
Before long, she would conceal her identity and enroll in Saint Roland Magic Academy as a brilliant commoner student. There she would begin her legendary journey: befriending witches, eventually uniting them to oppose the true enemy—the Demon Race—and overturning the world’s prejudice against witches.
As for the concept of “witches”…
The memories in his mind became clearer.
In this world, women born with exceptionally powerful magical aptitude were called witches, and they naturally faced suspicion and prejudice.
Among them, an extremely small number possessed magic that manifested unique properties, accompanied by intense negative traits or costs resembling the “seven deadly sins.”
They were known as “Trait Witches,” or more bluntly—the “Seven Deadly Sin Witches.”
Their power was far more strange and formidable, but they were also far more feared and rejected by society.
As for the original owner—Ryan Velt…
Ryan sighed inwardly.
The memories showed that the man’s magical talent had actually been terrifyingly high. Unfortunately, his personality was vile—arrogant, reckless, and utterly unwilling to devote himself to proper study. He had squandered his natural gifts.
According to the original game plot, when the Saintess enrolled, Ryan was already a student in the intermediate division and served as an assistant instructor during one of the freshman evaluations.
Driven by lust and vanity, he tried to trip up the Saintess—who was disguised at the time—while showing off his own abilities.
The Saintess saw through him easily and countered him on the spot.
Not only did he lose face publicly, but he was permanently branded as “scum” in her eyes.
That grudge lasted for years.
Eventually, during the decisive match when the Saintess graduated from the beginner division and Ryan was about to advance to the advanced division, she defeated him in public. His reputation as a genius was utterly destroyed.
He became one of the brightest stepping stones on the Saintess’s rise.
“Sigh…”
Ryan sighed again.
In his previous life, he had just been an ordinary college student who loved playing games. His social experience had mostly come from online chats and dormitory life. His understanding of society’s complexity was practically zero.
Now he was supposed to act as a noble villain with a terrible personality, countless enemies, and a tragic destiny?
Just imagining it made his scalp tingle.
What if he failed to act the part and someone realized that the person inside the shell had changed?
This was a world with magic.
Spells like “soul possession” or “soul replacement” might very well exist.
If that happened, forget being defeated by the protagonist’s group later in the story. The academy might capture him immediately for dissection and research. Or his reportedly vicious viscount father might discover the truth and burn him alive as some kind of evil spirit.
At the neighboring table, several young people—clearly prospective freshmen—were excitedly discussing academy rumors and magic courses, their eyes shining.
At another table sat a middle-aged mage in a traveling cloak. A heavy tome lay open before him as he ate while taking notes.
Further away, the shouts of merchants, the clatter of horse hooves, and the laughter of children blended together into a lively, vibrant atmosphere.
The vivid bustle of the city diluted both his lingering sense of unreality about transmigration and his worries about his villainous fate.
There was no need to think so far ahead.
First fill his stomach. Then take things one step at a time.
The food arrived quickly.
The steak was cooked perfectly. When cut open, it released abundant juices. Combined with the slightly tart and sweet berry sauce, the flavors were layered and rich.
The soup was smooth and aromatic, carrying the distinctive fragrance of dill. The sparkling wine was refreshingly sweet.
Ryan ate with great satisfaction. He even began to feel that if he could properly play the role of the original owner and avoid the main storyline, living as a leisurely noble in this world might not be such a bad life.
Just as he lifted the final piece of steak with his fork, his gaze casually swept toward the neighboring table where several students were also eating.
They appeared younger—likely new students admitted to the academy’s beginner division.
Among them, a boy with brown curly hair happily picked up a crispy-looking apple pie and opened his mouth wide to take a bite.
Ryan’s gaze passed above the boy’s head.
In the empty air there, something suddenly appeared.
A small, translucent, faintly glowing… screen?
It looked like an old computer interface with slightly greenish text. Displayed on it were clear Chinese characters.
【Action: Eat the apple pie in front of you】
【Consequence: Probability of ingesting a fly: 100%】
【Additional note: The fly died during high-temperature baking. It is fully cooked and non-toxic, but may cause severe psychological discomfort.】
Ryan blinked sharply.
The piece of steak slipped from his fork and clattered back onto the plate with a crisp clang.
What the hell?
A hallucination?
A side effect of transmigration?
He quickly looked at the boy again.
The glowing translucent screen still hovered above his head, the text perfectly clear.
Ryan rapidly scanned the rest of the restaurant.
Not everyone had one.
The innkeeper calculating accounts nearby had nothing above her head. The middle-aged mage reading his book had nothing either.
But near the entrance, a short young man scratching his head while muttering over a cheat sheet had a line of glowing text floating above him.
【Action: Attempt to peek at a cheat sheet during the History of Magic test】
【Consequence: Probability of being caught by the proctor mage on the spot: 78%】
Across the street, a fat vendor trying to sell a piece of colored glass as a “dragon scale fragment” to tourists had text flashing above his head.
【Action: Claim that this is a “relic of an ancient dragon”】
【Consequence: Probability of being exposed and ridiculed, affecting today’s business: 65%】
What… what was this thing?
A cheat ability?
A delayed system?
But what kind of system hung its prompts above other people’s heads?
What was this supposed to be?
A real-life preview of Final Destination?
Or a walking “pitfall avoidance guide”?
While his mind was still a mess, the boy beside him had already lifted the apple pie to his mouth and was about to bite into it.
“Wait!”
Ryan blurted out the words almost instinctively.
The students at that table froze and all turned to look at him.
The brown-haired boy holding the pie also paused, turning his head in confusion.
Seeing Ryan’s well-tailored yet understated clothing and his pale but strikingly handsome face, the boy instinctively assumed he was an upperclassman.
His attitude immediately became respectful.
“Uh… senior? Is something wrong?”
Ryan choked on his words.
Only then did he realize what he had done.
He did not know these people at all. How was he supposed to explain this?
Was he supposed to say, “Don’t eat that. There are floating words above your head saying you’ll definitely eat a fly”?
They would think he was insane.
He opened his mouth. Several curious gazes had gathered on him, and his face felt a little hot.
In his previous life, he had never been good at talking to strangers. Now the awkwardness made his toes curl.
But since he had already spoken and stopped them, he could not simply say, “Never mind.”
In that fleeting moment, fragments of the original owner’s memories and behavioral habits surged forward.
Ryan immediately straightened his back and lifted his chin slightly. He tried to gather the original owner’s usual air of superiority in his gray-blue eyes—even though he was panicking inside.
He cleared his throat and forced his voice to sound calm.
“I just suddenly thought that if you do not take a closer look at that… dessert in your hand, you might end up supplementing your diet with some unexpected… protein.”
“Protein?”
The brown-haired boy repeated the word blankly and looked down at the apple pie in his hand.
Golden crust. Caramel-colored apple filling.
It looked perfectly normal.
A freckled girl beside him leaned over curiously to look as well.
Just as the boy instinctively began to tear open the crust to check the inside, his thumb pressed against a slightly bulging darker spot near the edge.
His fingertip felt something strange—firm yet soft.
Confused, he squeezed it.
“Huh? What is this…”
A thin, dark brown piece with faint patterns squeezed out slightly from the gap in the crust.
The boy carefully used his fork to pry open the pastry.
Inside the sweet apple filling lay a shriveled roasted fly—its limbs intact and clearly recognizable—perfectly blended among the caramelized fruit.
For a moment, everything fell silent.
“BLEEAAARGH—!!!”
The boy instantly threw the apple pie away as though it were burning hot. He jumped up from his chair, his face turning green as he clutched his mouth and gagged.
“Ahhh—!” The freckled girl shrieked, pointing at the pie and the obvious fly on the table in horror.
The entire restaurant immediately turned their attention toward the commotion.
The owner, a chubby middle-aged man, hurried out from behind the counter. When he saw the scene on the table, his expression turned embarrassed and flustered.
“Oh my! H-How did this happen! I’m terribly sorry! Young sir, young lady, this meal is on the house! No, no—I'll bring you a new one! No—two! I guarantee they will be completely clean! Kitchen! What on earth is going on back there!”
The scene quickly became chaotic.
After calming down under the comfort of his companions, the brown-haired boy finally recovered slightly, though his face still looked pale.
He lifted his head and looked toward the table where Ryan had been sitting.
He wanted to thank him. After all, although that strange senior had spoken oddly, he had genuinely warned him and saved him from a far worse experience.
But the edge table was already empty.
Only a few clean plates remained, along with a half-finished glass of honey sparkling wine and several silver coins pressed beneath the cup.
The well-dressed senior with the cold expression—who had somehow helped him—was already gone.