The Narrow-Eyed Villain of the Demon Academy

After Adel’s training ended,

Fron was the first to leave the training room, trudging along.

She replayed Adel’s actions from earlier in her mind.

When Baltan wouldn’t stop pestering Fron for a spar, he couldn’t stand it any longer and stepped in.

‘Hmm, what a good little slave.’

Fron rubbed her nose.

It was clearly because of her intervention that things had escalated.

Adel had no obligation to get involved, yet he had readily stepped forward to stop Baltan.

He had fulfilled his duty as a slave.

Fron felt a sliver of gratitude towards Adel.

It was only natural for a slave to act that way.

But Fron wasn’t such a terrible master that she couldn’t express gratitude to her slave.

…Or so she thought.

‘I should give him a nice reward. Hmm, maybe an artifact would be nice. This is tough.’

Fron pondered over what kind of gift she should give Adel as a reward.

Just then,

“Hello there. Fancy seeing you here.”

A boy with scarlet hair appeared before Fron.

It was Baltan, who had unfortunately landed in second place because of her.

He was undoubtedly here to complain about her taking first place.

At that thought, Fron’s face hardened as she glared at Baltan.

“Are you here to fight me?”

“Yeah, wanna go a round?”

Baltan nodded at Fron’s question.

Fron felt a surge of annoyance.

Adel had to deal with this guy all the time. How unbearable it must have been.

Sympathizing with her slave, Fron spoke in an overbearing tone,

“You’ve come to the right place. I’ll teach you a lesson!”

Fron raised her fists in a fighting stance, facing Baltan.

Snicker-.

Baltan let out a soft laugh.

Laughing?

At me, of all people…?!

Fron felt anger flare at Baltan’s amused expression.

How dare he, that impudent brat…

She was just wondering how to put him in his place when,

“Fron, what are you doing?”

Baltan tilted his head, confused.

He had clearly been a good distance away from her, but he was now right in front of her.

As if he had teleported.

Then,

Plop-.

Baltan’s head fell to the ground at Fron’s feet.

And from his severed head, a voice weakly escaped,

“Why are you doing this…?”

Baltan’s head, no longer its original form, had transformed into Fron’s face.

And it was mimicking her voice

A shiver ran down Fron’s spine.

The moment her eyes met Baltan’s, now completely transformed into hers, she couldn’t help but fall to her knees.

This wasn’t Baltan.

This was a memory she had pushed deep down, a memory she had tried to forget.

Thud-.

Baltan’s head, still mimicking her voice, rolled across the floor and came to a stop against her knee.

It felt soft to the touch, like hair, but it brought a sharp pain, like thorns pricking her skin.

Fron felt something viscous wrap around her throat, dragging her consciousness down into oblivion.

But then,

Crack-!

A foot appeared out of nowhere and crushed Baltan’s head.

Fron’s eyes flew open in shock.

Her vision was blurry with tears, and she couldn’t make out who it was.

But one thing was certain: the illusion was gone.

Unlike the phantom Baltan, this person standing before her was real.

“S-Stay back. How dare you…!”

Fron burst into tears.

Then, she felt a warm embrace envelop her.

Gently,

Whoever was holding her wiped away her tears, and her vision cleared.

As she looked up,

She saw a female student with light pink hair caressing her cheek.

“Are you okay…?”

It was Luna, who had followed after Fron.

Thud.

At this, Fron roughly pushed Luna\'s hand away and got up.

Leaving Luna behind, she ran as if her life depended on it.

“F-Fron, where are you going?”

Luna’s bewildered voice called out, but Fron ignored her.

She ran without stopping until she reached the dormitory.

Slam!

The moment she arrived, she rushed into the bathroom and

Heave…

Heave…

She vomited until nothing but bile remained, desperately trying to erase the illusion she had just witnessed from her mind.

Just as she thought she had emptied her stomach,

Along with the gastric juices, a lump of dark red blood emerged.

Only then did Fron regain her senses and lift her gaze.

And as her eyes met the mirror in the bathroom,

She froze.

Reflected in the mirror wasn’t her, Fron.

Instead, it was a woman with a melancholic air, her lifeless blue hair hanging limply around her face, staring back at Fron.

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