Villain Hiring: Help! Author Wants Me Dead

A voice, sharp and impatient, pierced through the fog in my mind.

"Noah! It's nine already, wake up!"

Something small and surprisingly strong shook my shoulders.

I grunted, forcing my eyes open to the blurry sight of white hair and narrowed black eyes staring down at me.

Pixie stood with her hands on her back, looking every bit like a scolding mother despite being barely fourteen.

I blinked, my body aching as I forced myself upright on the sofa.

My limbs felt heavier than usual, as if exhaustion had sunk into my very bones.

The nightmares clung to me, leaving my breath shallow and my fingers trembling.

The dream… No, the memory.

I ran a hand through my tangled, white hair, pressing my palm against my forehead. The images still burned behind my eyes.

The rain.

The blood.

Pixie's screams.

She had been so broken then… and yet, since the moment she arrived here?

The girl had been nothing short of smiles.

Hmph*

This dumb kitten I swear to god.

That was the nickname I had come to call her.

The moment she saw me awake, her anger shifted into something more familiar—concern hidden behind a mask of irritation. "You fell asleep here again, especially when we have a guest room vacant—" The girl muttered, grabbing a blanket from the floor and tossing it onto my lap.

"You keep doing this. You're going to catch a cold, idiot."

I let out a hollow chuckle. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

Pixie froze for a moment and I could swear I saw her eyes water.

"Don't say stuff like that." Her voice was softer now, almost pleading.

I didn't respond.

What was I supposed to say?

That I didn't care anymore?

That I felt like a ghost wearing a living man's skin?

I couldn't tell her that.

Not when she had already lost so much.

That night, months ago, had changed everything.

I had collapsed outside the burning remnants of the fields, bleeding, weak, and barely conscious. I had thought I was done.

Thought that maybe, for once, fate would let me rest.

But fate was cruel. And so was she.

Pixie had found me.

At first, she had panicked, her hands grabbing at my arms, checking for wounds, checking for anything to explain why I was lying there half-dead.

She had prayed for me even as the pain of her father's death left her empty.

Maybe it was because she did not want to be the only one alive there.

But that did not matter.

For a second, I thought she knew.

That she had pieced everything together.

That she would look me in the eye and see the murderer standing in front of her.

But then she sobbed, clutching my shirt, as she couldn't stop muttering, "You're alive, you're alive, thank god you're alive…"

That was when I realized that she thought someone else had done this to me.

She had thought that the same person who killed her father had come after me too.

I wanted to laugh.

I wanted to tell her that she was comforting the very monster who had destroyed her world.

But I didn't.

Because I was a coward.

Because when she pressed a damp cloth against my forehead and whispered, "It's okay. You'll be okay."—for the first time in a long time, I wanted to believe it.

So I let her take care of me.

Days passed.

My body healed, but my mind... didn't.

Pixie stayed by my side.

She cooked, even though she could barely make anything edible. She made sure I drank water, even when I refused to eat.

She talked, filling the silence with stories about her father, about the life she had before everything was taken from her.

And somewhere along the way, we became something close to family.

It was a complicated thing.

She never questioned why I was there that night.

Never asked why I had been alone, injured, and barely breathing.

And I never told her.

Because if she knew the truth, she would hate me.

And I was too selfish to let that happen.

So instead, I focused on something else.

Pixie had nothing left.

No home, no future, no reason to live.

And I knew that feeling all too well.

That's why, the day I finally stood on my own two feet again, determination burned through me.

I couldn't fix what I had broken.

But I could at least give her a reason to keep going.

So I made a choice.

"Come with me," I had told her. "I will take care of you."

At first, she had stared at me, confused.

"You're barely taking care of yourself," she had scoffed, arms crossed. But there was no real resistance in her voice.

"You don't have to decide now," I had said. "But you have nowhere to go. And I—" I hesitated, fingers clenching at my sides. "I don't want to leave you alone."

The words felt strange coming out of my mouth. It had been so long since I wanted anything.

Pixie had studied me for a long moment before sighing. "Fine. But if you keep making that pathetic face, I'll punch you."

I had almost smiled. Almost.

And that's how we ended up here.

I snapped back to the present when Pixie sighed, plopping down onto the armrest beside me.

"You're still scrawny," she muttered, poking my arm. "Aren't you supposed to be some big-shot noble?"

I rolled my eyes. "I've been recovering."

"You've been moping," she corrected.

I didn't argue.

Because she was right.

Ever since that night, I had changed. I was weaker, slower, my strength nothing compared to before.

But the worst part wasn't my body.

It was my mind.

The first time I saw blood again, I threw up for hours.

The sight of red pooling on the ground made my stomach twist, made my head spin, made my breathing go shallow.

It was pathetic.

A man who had once slaughtered without hesitation now couldn't even stomach the sight of a papercut.

And Damien…

Even he had grown quieter.

For a sentient system that once prided itself on pushing me toward my villainous fate, he now barely spoke.

When he did, his voice was hesitant.

"You're slipping, kid."

"You can't fight like this."

"This is dangerous, you know."

But there was no malice. No push towards destruction.

Just… guilt.

Because even he had realized—he had broken me too much.

And now, neither of us knew how to fix it.

Pixie, unaware of my thoughts, stood up and stretched. "C'mon. Breakfast."

I sighed but followed the petite girl in front of me.

Because even if I didn't care about fate anymore…

Even if I didn't know what my purpose was anymore…

I still had her.

And that was enough.

***