Villain Hiring: Help! Author Wants Me Dead

There was no place more glorious than this.

The air reeked of power, of blood, of schemes carefully woven over months.

This building—legally Noah's home, technically owned under his name, was, in reality, the heart of the most well-structured, deadly assassin society the world had ever seen.

And at its center sat me—Master Grimwald, ruler of shadows, the one pulling every string behind the scenes.

The era of kings may have ended, but I was no mere man.

A throne, carved from obsidian and inlaid with gold, sat proudly at the head of the grand hall. My grand hall.

Velvet drapes framed the dark walls, soft candlelight flickering in iron cones as they casted long, scary shadows across the vast chamber.

Who said kings were a thing of the past?

I had built my empire right under the noses of the so-called powerful.

Here, in the heart of darkness, I reigned.

And the best part?

Noah D. Romero, the supposed owner of all this, the monster whispered about in hushed tones as Heartless—had disappeared from the face of this world 3 months ago.

No one but I, knew that he was nothing more than a broken, empty husk now.

Leaning back on my throne, I pressed my fingers against the cold material of the armrest, my lips stretching into a pleasent smile.

"You truly are a man of vision, Grimwald," A voice slithered through my mind, smooth as silk and drenched in wicked amusement.

My god, The Minor God of Plotting spoke directly into my thoughts, weaving honey-laced words into my ears.

"To think you took what was a crumbling mess and turned it into this pinnacle of perfection."

"Of course." I exhaled deeply, my chest pumping with satisfaction. "Noah had the foundation, but the structure? The brilliance? That was all me."

Oh, how beautiful it had been to watch him crumble.

That battle of Villo Greek had chewed him up and spat him out like discarded meat.

I had watched, thrilled, as his mind fractured with every kill, his humanity grinding into dust.

He had returned home a wreck, a lifeless shadow that moved about the estate like a ghost that had long lost its purpose.

And that was when I knew.

There was no need to fear him anymore.

I had accepted his 'offer' to become the public leader of this secret society, but in truth, I had done so only because he had turned the assassination hall into shambles.

Fortunately, all went good as he lost his mind soon after.

The boy was adamant in joining the secret society as an anonymous assassin just like the other candidates and taking on the cruelest missions.

And what a decision it had been!

The organization had flourished under my rule—no more reckless hires, no more pathetic weaklings given a chance at assassination simply because they could hold a blade.

No, I had refined it after my defeat at Noah's hands.

Perfected it.

Only the best survived now.

And the wealth? The fortune that was supposed to be Noah's cut?

Ha. The fool was too broken to even ask for it. I had been hoarding it all, and it wasn't like he'd ever come knocking for his share.

The Romero brat was finished.

A chuckle rumbled in my throat as I stretched, basking in my absolute victory.

Just then, I heard the lightest sound of footsteps, alarming me.

'Who could it be?'

As much as I remember… no one had the keys to this place.

Except—

A shift in the air.

A presence, slow and steady.

My fingers, still mid-air, froze.

The heavy doors creaked open, inch by inch, revealing the figure beyond them.

Noah?

I blinked.

Gone was the trembling, broken boy from before.

He walked with slow and continuous steps, his slightly long, white hair catching the dim glow of candlelight.

The oversized white tee hung off his frame, swaying lightly as he advanced.

Every step echoed in the silent hall.

My grip on the armrest tightened.

No.

This had to be a trick.

He was still nothing.

Still weak.

Just another fallen man who hadn't realized he was still crawling in the dirt.

Realising that he no longer had the same cold aura around him like when he had massacred the assassination hall, I secretly let out a sigh of relief.

hufff

This meant that he was still that pathetic, depressed loser.

Good.

The corners of my lips curled into a mocking grin.

"Well, well," I drawled, my voice smooth with amusement. "Look what we have here. Didn't expect to see you out of your hole, Noah. I thought you were too busy mourning all the life's you took."

He said nothing.

Not a twitch.

Not a blink.

Just the same, slow steps as he continued walking towards me.

I leaned forward, smirking. "What? Cat got your tongue? Or did all that guilt of killing those innocents really beat every single drop of sense out of your head?"

Noah finally stopped a few steps from my throne.

Then—he lifted his gaze to meet mine.

And for the first time that night, my breathing stopped.

There was no emptiness in his eyes.

No sadness.

No brokenness.

No.

His eyes seemed too calm for someone in depression.

My fingers twitched.

Something was wrong.

"Awfully quiet, aren't you?" I taunted, trying to mask the uneasy weight pressing against my chest with overconfidence. "Did the big, bad villain finally—"

My words never finished.

Because in the blink of an eye, Noah moved.

A single step, faster than I could process.

His hand wrapped around my throat.

A sharp, painful grip.

The world tilted as I was yanked up from my throne, my feet dangling uselessly above the ground.

My eyes widened in pure, unfiltered shock.

"What—"

A deep, mocking whisper filled my ears.

"I could kill you then…"

Noah's hold on my throat tightened.

I could almost feel the breath being shoved out of my mouth as my lungs started burning, fear tickled me as the 17 year old boy continued staring at me calmly,

"…And the best part?"

The boy tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something sharp.

Something cruel.

Something that sent ice down my spine.

"I could still kill the fuck out of you right now, and nobody would know, Grim."

The room spun.

My heart beat wildly against my ribs, and right then, a sickening realization crashed over me like a tidal wave.

He wasn't broken.

He wasn't lost.

Noah D. Romero was back.

And I... had awakened he who was known as the 'Heartless.'

***