I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 425  [Event] [Semester-Exam At Vanadias] [13] Bullied

"It's him…" Bryelle mumbled under her breath, her voice barely more than a whisper as she peered out of the tall, arched windows of the castle. The cool glass felt icy against her fingertips as she pressed them gently against it, her heart fluttering a bit. She had left out of her room, leaving behind the safety of her familiar quarters, all because a surge of curiosity had compelled her to learn more about her older sister's classmates. The castle grounds had grown unusually lively, and the sight of so many unfamiliar faces wandering near the secluded fortress was enough to make her feel nervous, a rare discomfort that tugged at her instincts. Yet, despite her apprehension, she couldn't resist. Curiosity was a powerful thing, and so, she had given in, allowing herself a brief glimpse of the people who had gathered in the garden's side courtyard. It didn't take long for her to spot him. Among the crowd, he stood out—a young man with striking white hair and piercing amber eyes. The sight of him made her breath catch in her throat. It was unmistakable. She had met him only recently, and yet his presence was etched into her mind with startling clarity. There he was, amidst the others but only him was in her eyes.

'He's elder sister's classmate?' The thought stirred a fresh wave of surprise in her chest. Somehow, it made sense now—his confidence, his ease. It wasn't just bravado. He was from the prestigious Trinity Eden Academy, after all. That could only mean one thing: he was a high-ranking noble, just as she suspected.

"Instead of hitting on Earth, try to do something useful," Amael's rang mockingly toward the young man close to him with whitish-red hair.

"J–John?" Amelia's voice wavered slightly in bewilderment. She glanced at Amael, unsure if he was joking or if there was some hidden truth in his accusation. His face was so serious, she wondered for a moment if there was more to the situation than she realized. As John's girlfriend, she noticed all the piercing looks John gave to Earth as if he wanted to swallow him up.

John, however, was quick to react. "Don't believe that fucker! I just hate that guy!" He was desperately trying to correct his girlfriend's misunderstanding.

Amelia sighed, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "The real question is, who don't you hate in the academy?" John scowled. "Huh? Am I the one picking fights left and right?" His gaze shifted accusingly toward Amael.

Before Amael could respond, a new voice joined the fray.

"John's right," Celeste chimed in, her lips curving into an amused smile. "Amael definitely outclasses everyone when it comes to picking fights." Amael merely shrugged, utterly unfazed. "Not my fault when there's so much trash in this so-called elite academy."

His voice was loud enough to gather all the glares from the students from all classes.

"Amael..." Bryelle whispered softly, her lips barely moving as she said his name. The name of the young man who had helped her only a day before. As their playful bickering continued, Bryelle watched in quiet fascination from her hidden vantage point. It was strange, almost surreal, to see Amael like this—bantering casually with his friends, seemingly at ease. He was clearly talking differently with John, Celeste and Amelia.

Bryelle continued to watch, entranced, for several more minutes as their training resumed. But then, just as she was beginning to lose herself in the scene, something made her pulse quicken—a fleeting moment of panic. Amael was turning around, his gaze sweeping across the garden. She panicked, quickly spinning the wheels of her chair to back away from the window, her heart pounding in her chest. She had been so absorbed in watching him that she hadn't realized how close he had come to spotting her.

Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps as she moved further back into the shadow of the hallway, her hands trembling slightly on the wheels of her chair. Tanya had specifically asked her to stay inside the castle, to avoid unnecessary interactions with strangers, especially those associated with her sister's academy. But how could she resist? This was a chance she hadn't expected—a chance she might never have again. She had thought, after their brief encounter, that she would never see him again. And yet, here he was, so close.

'I–I'll just thank him for yesterday!' Bryelle's hands clenched tightly around the arms of her chair as Glamir pushed her away from the gardens. Her heart, already racing with the nervousness of sneaking out, now pounded for a different reason—a familiar sense of dread crept up her spine. Why now, of all times?

She had felt so close to gathering the courage to approach Amael again, to thank him for helping her. Yet, her brother and his entourage had found her. "Hm… older brother, I should go back to the room. Mother asked me to stay inside," she tried to protest quietly.

"Really?" Glamir raised a brow, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "Why are you wearing your disguise, then? You planned to leave, didn't you? Come with us instead." Bryelle's stomach churned. She could feel the weight of their eyes on her now—Eril, Onas, and Thina, the trio from the branch side of the Teraquin House. They stood slightly behind Glamir, their gazes clearly mocking.

"How are you, Bryelle?" Eril asked.

"Looking for Alvara to babysit you again?" Onas smirked, his lips curling into a sneer.

Bryelle's heart sank. Alvara was the only one who ever stood up for her, but she wasn't here today. And these three knew it otherwise they wouldn't dare to try anything toward her.

"Too bad," Thina added, her laughter soft but cruel as she covered her mouth with her hand. "Alvara is probably tired of you. That's why she keeps skipping out. Isn't that right, Bryelle?" Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Bryelle swallowed hard, her throat tight. She could feel her chest constricting as her mind scrambled for something—anything—to say in response. She loved Alvara more than anything and that was something she feared.

Her eyes darted to Neia. If anyone could stop this, it would be her. She wasn't really among the ones who bullied her after all.

"Elder sister…" Bryelle's voice trembled, her words little more than a whisper. She looked at Neia, silently pleading for her help, for her to say something—anything—to stop this from escalating further.

But Neia's cold gaze met hers only briefly before she turned her head away, her expression unreadable. "I am not your older sister," she said flatly, her voice devoid of warmth, rejecting Bryelle.

Bryelle lowered her head, her shoulders trembling as sadness weighed heavily on her small frame. Her lips quivered, but she dared not make a sound.

"Now, let's see if we can get you to walk," Eril said, a cruel smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he approached her. Bryelle's breath hitched. "I–I can't, elder brother, please..." Her voice trembled as she pleaded, trying to spin the wheels of her chair back, away from him. But the chair refused to move, her arms too weak to escape. Panic flashed in her eyes as she turned to see Thina gripping the handles of her chair with a tight, malicious grip, lifting them slightly off the ground. With a sharp jerk, Thina yanked the chair. "Hah!" Bryelle tumbled forward, her fragile body collapsing onto the cold ground, helpless. Her legs, useless and unresponsive, lay motionless beneath her. "Now, walk," Glamir asked with a smile that never reached his eyes.

Bryelle's heart raced. "B–But, I can't…" Her throat felt like sandpaper, dry and tight as fear swallowed her voice.

"I can't believe you're still allowed in this castle. How can you even call yourself a princess of the Teraquin House? You're an embarrassment," Thina sneered. "Isn't that right, Neia?"

Neia barely glanced at Bryelle. "I don't care. Just get it over with, brother. We don't have time for this."

"Just having a bit of fun, sister," Glamir chuckled darkly, reaching down toward Bryelle's neck. "N–No, please!" Bryelle whimpered, trying to shield herself, but Glamir's fingers curled around the pendant that hung from her neck, yanking it free with a swift tug.

"Hahh..." Bryelle gasped as the pendant's chain cut briefly into her skin before breaking. Glamir held up the pendant, his eyes gleaming with a sense of twisted triumph. "Now you won't be running off anymore disguised. Stop bothering the Queen, understood?" His smirk faded into a frown as he noticed another pendant hidden beneath the first. It was simple, made of rough wood, shaped like a leaf.

"Oh, what's this?" Eril laughed, leaning in to get a closer look. "A pendant fit for peasants?"

Onas stepped forward, grinning. "How appropriate for someone like Bryelle."

Thina snickered. "It suits her, doesn't it?"

Glamir grimaced, disgust curling his lip as he tossed the leaf pendant aside. "What an ugly sight…" The pendant landed with a soft thud in the grass, discarded like it meant nothing. Bryelle watched as it fell, her heart sinking further. She lowered her head, her long hair, once disguised, now slowly faded back to its true colors—a soft blond with green that deepened into a gradient toward the tips. Her teary eyes glowed a pale yellow-green, shimmering with suppressed emotion.

"Wow, she's crying already. Much sooner than I expected." Eril laughed mockingly, shaking his head. "She's a disgrace to the Teraquin House," Onas muttered, crossing his arms. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Pathetic," Glamir spat. "But what can you expect when your father dishonors his Queen? The Goddess must've cursed you for his sins."

"...!" Bryelle's lip quivered, her breath coming in uneven gasps as she fought to hold back her sobs, but the tears came anyway, streaking down her face. "You lot seem to be enjoying yourselves."

Glamir froze, his body stiffening. He slowly turned around, his mocking grin disappearing in an instant.

 Standing a few feet away was a man, his white hair catching the light, and his amber eyes piercing through them.