Hero Party's Villain: What's the Point If Heroines Are Not Broken?-Chapter 9 - Hela’s Anger and Vulnerability

The early dawn hung low over Mount Ronwin, casting silver light through the faint mist.

Hela’s heels echoed softly on the private marble driveway, rhythmic and poised — her hips swaying evenly. The dress was elegant and covered most of her body, but the curves were clearly something that drew gazes from men far away.

They could only watch someone like her, who, even though nearing the age of thirty, was perfectly proportioned—like one of the few models one could imagine.

The car was already waiting: a black luxury sedan, door open, a female chauffeur standing beside it, head bowed respectfully.

Two other cars in the fleet — darker, bulkier — stood parked a good distance behind.

Male guards waited inside, eyes alert, but kept away from her presence.

Everyone knew the protocol: no man steps within three meters of Hela unless summoned.

The last time a man tried to do that, his body was found deep under a Norwegian lake, with his dick cut off and his balls hanging out of his mouth.

Hela’s slit-red dress shifted at her chest as she breathed, showing the stretch of her lungs just from breathing the same air as men. The wind caught her silk hair as she approached the car with calm precision.

Just as her hand reached for the door, her phone buzzed.

"Hm?" Normally, the phone that rang did not belong to her professor identity, but it was her own private number, registered under the name of Hela Wernier.

Unknown Number.

She didn’t pause — her fingers simply twitched. The chauffeur lowered her head slightly, noticing the change, and turned her wrist to signal the earpiece squad.

It was a signal for them to instantly activate the van’s servers, which stood nearby holding computers used mostly for satellite tracking and emergency data — but also capable of tracking calls at the most advanced level.

Without hesitation, Hela accepted the call, slipping into the car. She didn’t say hello sweetly.

She said it like it was an order.

"Hello, who?" fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

As she leaned back against the leather seat, one leg crossed over the other — a slight hint of her milky white feet visible through the long gown glowing in the sunlight, smoother than the silk dress she wore — she adjusted her gloves casually.

:: "Haah" ::

And somehow, as she heard that breath, she instantly knew it was a man.

Her mind analyzed the situation — if a man had her private number, then either he was a fool or just one of her past victims trying to act mighty.

Her other hand quietly slipped down to the hidden panel beside her — a magnetic strip where she tapped three times, sending a silent code to the Command Unit embedded in her operations van nearby to instantly start recording the call.

:: "So, were you playing with the small boys again?" ::

A faint curl touched the corner of her lips. Not a smile — more like disdain that almost enjoyed being provoked, after realizing that her doubt was completely true.

Her left hand rested lazily on her thigh, but her index finger began to circle slowly. A tick.

"So you are one of those boys, huh?" She didn’t need heavy calculation. She instantly realized that it was some broken man she had crossed in the past, coming back now to take some puny revenge for her crushing his chicken-sized heart.

:: "You bet if I was, you would’ve been sitting on that dick cage of yours, willingly." ::

’....’ Her fingers, which were circling on her dress, halted, and her eyes — which had been casual about the conversation — instantly darkened, a clear coldness passing through them.

Her expression — completely stoic — was enough to send a signal to her right-hand agent, Kaela, who instantly put the call at the highest priority.

She sprinted toward the van and initiated the live trace protocol — a quantum triangulation process that could bypass even military masking — something not impossible for the Wernier Group, who were technically responsible for the arms manufacturing of military-grade equipment.

"Your words sound like an uncivilized barbarian... Are you from some forest, dirty dog?"

Still composed — but her heel clicked against the floorboard once. Then twice. Her irritation was starting to show in rhythm.

:: "Isn’t it natural for me to act like a dirty dog if I want to make a bitch moan... ’cause that bitch slightly hates human males?" ::

’!’

Her jaw tensed. She turned her head slightly toward the window, as if checking the horizon — but really, she was stopping herself from screaming.

"How dare you—!"

That one slipped out. The bite. She caught it in her own breath and leaned forward slightly, shutting her eyes — do not let the call be disconnected. She wanted to hear this man’s voice more, so that when she made him wiggle and beg for death, it would extinguish her anger.

:: "Shh, stop being a whiny little girl and just accept your inferiority complex." ::

Now she was done playing with words. Her eyes narrowed.

"Know your place, dirty man."

:: "Dirty man? You still act like you hate the whole male race when the problem is you, yourself." ::

She inhaled sharply. But she didn’t deny it.

Not out loud.

Not yet.

"Heh, can’t expect a man to do anything else other than bark."

:: "Why not accept that you fear being broken by a real man — not wanting to be withered and left alone somewhere by some man. You’re just trying to hide your fear under a veil of strength." ::

Her spine was stiff now. She no longer leaned back. Her hand gripped the seat. Her guard outside the car saw the change and quietly unlocked her sidearm.

"Hah, why do men act like they know everything?" Yet she tried to portray herself as composed, even though inwardly she had clearly just been seen through — in a way that made her want to tear down that man’s ribs.

:: ".....So, you have a daddy issue." :: The voice came delayed, but when it came, it was enough to snap a bridge — a bridge that had been holding the roaring volcano within her body.

She felt he might just be throwing some fluke, yet until now, the way he spoke was enough to make her feel threatened.

’....What the...’ It was the first time she felt this anger flaring after several years — from a man barking on a call without the guts to meet her directly.

Her head snapped — not because she was shocked at the idea.

But at how accurate it was.

"....What?"

The voice on the other end didn’t even pause.

"Let me guess — you grew up seeing your father bringing other women while slowly abandoning your mothe—"

Beep.

She ended it. Not by logic — by instinct.

And it was already too late.

She let him in.

"Haah... n-no..." Her breath stuck in her throat for half a second. Her pupils trembled, moving erratically before composing in a single direction — as though she’d just been seen through by a man for the first time.

For the first time in her life, she felt threatened by a man.

The anger surged like venom through her chest.

"Wh–who... Catch that goddamn man now!" she screamed, her hand slamming the panel beside her seat. The strength of the punch instantly broke the panel, piercing the metallic and glass components inside as blood started to trickle down.

"Urgh... y-you bastard...." Her composure just broke, and instantly the pain in her hand faded behind the anger in her gaze, swiftly causing the guards to sprint — when suddenly, the door of the car was swung open, with their young miss coming out, her hands drenched in blood.

One of the female guards helped bandage her hand, while another arrived — instantly bowing and holding a laptop. Both knelt swiftly in front of her.

Then the other revealed the exact location of the source of the call.

"Young miss, the signal is from City Hospital — from a phone belonging to..."

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