Surviving In This Filthy World As A Novel Villain

Worse, a yapping little fat kid wouldn't shut up beside him. If the timing weren't so rotten, Eric swore he'd make sure that chubby pest didn't see tomorrow's sun.

"Is that your wife in there?" the kid asked.

"Did she cheat on you?"

"You know the guy she's with, don't you?"

"Man, your head's practically glowing green!"

Shut up, you little moron… Eric's veins bulged, his temper on a hair-trigger.

"No surprise there—he's the protagonist," Alex said from the driver's seat, one hand tapping the wheel in a lazy rhythm, the other guiding Sera's head up and down. "Kills an old man in front of a crowd, and a few days later, he's back on the streets."

How Eric got sprung from the police station—or how he dodged the Wade family's wrath—didn't interest Alex much. Probably some strings pulled by those three masters of his. If he had to guess, the Dawson Family was behind it.

"They've bailed him out twice now," Alex mused. "Let's see how many more times they can save his sorry hide. Whoa—easy there…" He sucked in a sharp breath, barely holding it together as Sera worked, his thoughts racing.

A protagonist like Eric getting locked up twice was already a feat. Guys like him always had backup plans—endless connections and tricks stashed away by his masters.

Locking him up for good? Near impossible. But that was fine. In a couple days, Alex needed a tool—a "prodigy doctor" like Eric—to play a part. He'd promised little Riley he'd fix her grandma's cancer, after all.

Since that night, though, Riley had vanished—no sign of her, no shifts at the Bar. Like she'd evaporated. Alex hadn't bothered hunting her down. It was her grandma who was sick; she'd come crawling back when the time was right.

In the original story, Riley's grandma got her death notice about two weeks after Eric "healed" Sera's grandpa. By Alex's count, that was any day now. Sure, he could skip Eric entirely—buy a liver cancer cure from the system shop, a pill or shot for late-stage cases. But why bother? Those cost five or six thousand breakdown points apiece. With Eric around to exploit, why waste the cash?

Free rides were the best rides. Stingy players never spent a dime.

Lost in that thought, Alex grinned—until Eric, fed up, stormed over with the bike still on his back.

Bang, bang, bang!

Eric pounded the window, fists clenched, eyes boring into the car. He couldn't see inside, but he glared like he could burn through the tint.

Alex rolled the window down.

Sera lifted her head just then, breathless, cheeks flushed, eyes sultry. Her hair was a mess, her white blouse unbuttoned at the collar, showing more than it hid. A smear of something white clung to her lip, and she licked it off slow.

[The Protagonist 'Eric Vaughn' had a mental breakdown. Congrats, you have earned 13,000 critical points!]

Jackpot!

A massive haul. Alex smirked inwardly.

….

Translate that surprise? This was it—the real deal.

It was Alex's first time raking in over ten thousand breakdown points in one go. Eric's meltdown had to be cataclysmic. For reference, that creep eyeing his backside in lockup only netted two thousand.

Alex palmed a bad-luck charm quietly. He and Eric were neck-and-neck in a straight fight—pretty even, all things considered. But that bastard had poison up his sleeve.

Eric, meanwhile, stared at the scene, dizzy and gasping like the air had turned to sludge. His hands trembled under the bike's weight.

He'd only met Sera a handful of times, but in his head, she was his. Even hiding in the bushes, he'd fed himself lies—they were just talking, Sera wouldn't betray him.

But seeing her lick that white gunk off her lips? That shattered the last wall holding him together.

He shook, mouth opening to speak, but no words came—just raw, choking silence.

"Oh, it's you!" Alex feigned shock. "Weren't you locked up for killing someone? How'd you get out so fast?"

"I… I didn't," Eric stammered, snapping back, still rattled. "I was framed. My skills are unmatched—how could I kill anyone?" He locked eyes with Sera, now clean-lipped, and rambled like a madman.

"Sera, you've got to believe me—I'm innocent! That guy next to you? He's trash. Get away from him, quick!"

His glare drilled into Alex. To the naked eye, he'd done nothing but stand there with his bike. But in secret, he'd already slipped seven or eight poison powders Alex's way.

Without the system's alerts and his poison-proof perk, Alex would've been foaming at the mouth by now, twitching on the pavement.

"Who are you?" Sera snapped, frowning. "Do I even know you? How dare you talk about Alex like that?" She hugged Alex's arm tight, her blouse gaping wider, ripe curves pressing close as she leaned in for a sweet, taunting kiss.

Alex shoved Sera back.

Come on, even a tiger doesn't eat its own cubs. Did she have no clue what she'd just had in her mouth?

[The Protagonist 'Eric Vaughn' had a mental breakdown. Congrats, you have earned 9000 critical points!]

Harvest season was in full swing.

"I'm Eric Vaughn!" he shouted, staggering back two steps, face twisted in agony. "Sera, it's me—Eric Vaughn!"

The crowd thickened around them. Dusk had settled, and college kids spilling out for the night caught the scene: a scruffy guy with a shared bike on his shoulder, glaring at a sports car, his expression a mix of rage and disbelief. Inside the car, a man and a woman—obvious what they were up to.

Some losers in the crowd smirked, secretly pleased. Look at this ugly punk thinking he could date a girl that hot.

No surprise she cheated—stick to simping, boys, and you'll never taste that sting. Phones came out, videos rolling for short-form apps, capturing the drama for likes.

Eric burned under the growing stares and whispers, the chatter slicing into him like dull knives. A normal guy would've bolted by now, but Eric wasn't normal. His obsession with Sera ran deeper than sanity.