Villain Ch 1875. Faceless Daughter
The fog hissed as if alive, curling tighter around broken houses and cobbled streets. His boots pressed into wet stone, blood still dripping down the grooves, running into cracks that shouldn't have been deep enough to drink. Every sense sharpened—the metallic taste thick on his tongue, the sticky damp that clung to his cloak, the smell of mildew and iron filling his nose.
Vivian sidled up to him, her whip coiled lazily around her wrist, red spatter drying across her cheek. Her grin was too sweet, the kind that made players trust her right before she ate them alive.
"That's why the players said they couldn't pass the entrance," she hummed, voice rich with amusement. "They died here. Over and over. Because they didn't have you."
Allen glanced at her, smirk still sharp. "Not surprising. They're players. Heroes. The system doesn't hand survival to heroes. It sells it to devils."
