Ascension Of The Villain-Chapter 272: Sequel?

Evening draped its indigo veil across the sky, soft and still, as Vyan sat alone in a private chamber of an upscale restaurant in the capital. Golden lamplight flickered against the polished wood walls, casting long, thoughtful shadows. The air was crisp, scented faintly with the last remnants of rain.

He tilted his head slightly, his wine-red eyes gazing through the window where the clouds had parted to reveal a clear, soot-blue sky. A small relief was curled in his chest. The storm that had raged for the last few days had finally quieted.

Maybe there wouldn't be a flood after all. Maybe—for once—his people wouldn't have to suffer. For that, Vyan offered a quiet thanks to Goddess Hecate. Quiet, because he couldn't afford to look soft-hearted. Not in front of anyone.

He hadn't always cared for the people of Ashstone. In fact, he'd resented them—loathed them for turning their backs on his family, for scorning the ones who once protected them. But over time, he came to understand something: no matter how kind you are, the moment people think you've wronged them, they will retaliate. That was exactly what he did with Iyana.

Despite all the warmth and sincerity she had shown him from the start, the moment he believed she had betrayed him, he didn't hesitate. He hated her. He plotted revenge. That instinct to hurt when hurt—it wasn't exclusive to him. It was human.

So he couldn't blame the people of Ashstone for lashing out when they were made to believe his family was responsible for their losses—their homes, their loved ones, their entire lives upended. They were fed lies. Yet, despite everything, they never turned on him.

While the courts in the capital whispered behind his back, called him the son of traitors, his people… didn't.

They greeted him with the same respect. The same hope. As if they still believed in him.

And so, even if Vyan wasn't as selfless as his parents had been, he could at least do right by them. He could carry their legacy forward—not out of blind idealism, but out of duty. Out of choice.

Because their teachings hadn't been in vain. Not entirely.

Because one day, if he were to have children of his own, he didn't want them to hang their heads when they heard his name. He wanted them to stand tall. To say, Yes, that's my father. And he wasn't a man with a cruel heart or incompetent hands. He ruled, he fought, and he fiercely protected what was his.

Just what Vyan wanted to do for his parents—clear their names, bring them justice. That was the whole reason for this complicated political battle.

Speaking of the political battle, Vyan and Althea had taken full advantage of the weather's shift. Earlier today, they'd dropped the most innocent-sounding dagger into the court gossip—that perhaps, just perhaps, the Goddess was pleased with their decision to keep Althea as the Crown Princess. After all, the skies had wept for days and nights, only to calm once the emperor's decision remained unchanged.

The result? Glorious.

Easton's supporters were practically steaming, biting back their outrage like bitter tonic. Vyan had heard that Easton himself hadn't reacted much, which was almost a shame. He did so love a good royal tantrum. But Althea mentioned that Easton had been acting a little strange these days. Vyan couldn't tell a difference. That guy had always been blank-faced.

He drummed his fingers lightly on the lacquered table, the silence interrupted only by the occasional chime of plates and the muffled hum of voices beyond the chamber. Then, the door opened with a soft click.

Pink hair bobbed into view—vibrant, unapologetically rare. Leila stepped in, dressed in the subtle elegance of this era but still carrying that unmistakable spark of someone not quite from here. Her gown was quite lighter than most women who stood firmly with the notion, 'the puffier the dress, the more elegant it was.' But Leila's style wasn't something unnatural for Vyan.

Iyana too had always preferred clothes that were easier to move around in. She was a knight who liked to always keep herself armed.

However, the High Society wasn't so accepting of such attires. Apparently, those kind of dresses were vulgar. Vyan could never wrap his head around how. Nevertheless, he never bothered about it. Iyana wasn't weak enough to crumble from such cowardly talks behind her back. And he would like to see if anyone has the audacity to comment on Iyana within his earshot.

Leila dipped into a brief, playful bow. "Good evening, Your Grace."

Vyan offered a nod, his lips curling with curiosity. "Lady Leila. You didn't bring Young Lord Kieran today?"

Leila's face lit up as she slipped into the seat opposite him. "You remember my baby's name?"

"I have an excellent memory," Vyan replied, with a casual shrug. "Besides, Iyana gushed about him so much I thought she was going to adopt him. So, hard to forget."

Leila chuckled, pouring herself some tea. "Fair enough. Kieran is too cute for anyone to forget him. How's Iya doing, though?"

"Busy," Vyan answered, his tone softer now. "But… happy. With her promotion and all. That woman loves working."

Leila gave a quiet, wistful sigh. "I don't know if I can imagine her truly happy. Not since she learned about the ending of the novel."

The small smile faded from his face. A hollow laugh escaped him. "That's… actually why I asked to see you."

Leila leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, eyes curious and warm. "Okay. Shoot. How can I help?"

He watched her for a second—the girl from another world, who somehow fit into this one better than most born into it. "In that book of yours," he said slowly, "was there ever… a prophecy? Anything like that?"

Leila blinked, tilting her head slightly as she mulled it over. "Hmm… no. Not that I remember."

Vyan leaned back, brows drawn together. "Weird. You'd think with all the drama that novel has, someone would've thrown in a prophecy for flair."

Leila gave him a look. "Prophecies are a common trope, but doesn't mean every novel has to have it, Your Grace."

A dry snort escaped him. "Tragic." He paused. "Alright then… how did the novel end? What happened after I died?"

Leila's expression shifted, her playful demeanor giving way to something gentler. "It was… cliché. All the villains got punished, as expected. You, Princess Althea, your supporters, your subordinates—executed, exiled, or erased."

"Charming."

"Easton and Iyana got their happy ending. Married, ruling together. The empire entered a new age of peace, blah blah blah."

"That's it?" Vyan asked, frowning slightly. "No aftermath? "

Leila squinted, tapping a finger against her teacup. "Wait… there was something. A sequel. A few extra chapters that got released later on. Side stories, maybe."

Vyan leaned in now, eyes sharp and gleaming. "So," he began, his voice languid, but probing, "what happened in the sequel?"

Leila looked up from the deserts kept on the tray. "I don't know the details," she replied, unapologetically blunt.

"Why not?"

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She gave him a half-shrug, picking up a chocolate cake onto her plate. "I never finished it. Lost interest after you died."

He blinked at her, mildly amused. "Oh?"

"You were my favorite," she added, unabashed. "After your whole arc wrapped up in the most heartbreaking, soul-crushing way, I dipped."

Vyan chuckled lowly, a sardonic curl of his lips betraying the pleasure he took in being a reader's favorite. "I have to say, you are lucky to have found Count Darren when you have such a questionable taste in men."

"Your girlfriend is the one with questionable choices," Leila shot back with a grin. "For me, you were fictional. No actual feelings. But she? Boy, did she fall hard for such a villainous person like you."

"Fair." He raised a brow, mildly impressed. "But can't you tell me anything about the sequel?"

"Oh," she perked up in the middle of eating her chocolate cake, propping her chin on her palm, "my best friend read the sequel and gave me the highlights while I was painting my nails. I wasn't that invested, but some things stuck."

He leaned forward, elbow on the armrest, chin resting on his knuckles. "Indulge me."

"I think…" Leila tapped her temple, searching her memory. "Easton and Iyana had a huge fight—like, emotionally loaded, yelling-in-the-rain kind of drama—because they barely saw each other with all the crap going on in the empire."

Vyan raised a brow, amused. "And what exactly was this 'crap'?"

Leila furrowed her brows, trying to recall. "Uhh… plague, I think? Like, a deadly one. Empire-wide. Plus there was another war brewing with the Haberland Empire? And a bunch of natural disasters too—earthquakes, floods, freak snowstorms in summer. Honestly, the whole place sounded like it got hit with a divine rage."

That made Vyan hum, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

Leila suddenly snapped her fingers, her expression lighting up. "Wait, yeah—there was one thing that made me pause while listening."

"What was it?"

"My friend said all of it—the plagues, the war, the disasters—was caused by your curse."