I Became the Mastermind Who Betrays the Heroines-Chapter 129

[Translator - Peptobismol]

[Proofreader - Demon God] freewebnσvel.cøm

Chapter 129 - The Ball (1)

Steps carried them away from the ballroom.

The sky was dark.

Night had begun to settle in.

Through the dimly lit scenery, the two figures moved.

A garden lay just beyond the building, offering them a retreat from the prying eyes of the students.

The winter garden was barren, not a single flower in bloom.

Yet, the thin layer of snow covering the ground lent it a quiet charm.

Even in lifelessness, the season carried its own beauty.

They simply walked.

"……"

A tranquil silence.

The woman in his arms said nothing.

Only the warmth of their bodies, the faint scent of her skin, and the steady rhythm of her breath reminded him of her presence.

Soft puffs of air escaped her lips, blooming into white against the cold night.

Every now and then, her breath brushed against his chin—

A warmth that felt far too intense.

At last, he spoke.

"Are you cold?"

"…I’m fine. Just… surprised."

A calm, measured response.

Yet, the silence between them felt oddly heavy.

Perhaps because her dress was more revealing than usual—

There were far too many points of contact between them.

Normally, he wouldn’t pay such things any mind.

But her faint perfume, mingled with the natural scent of her skin, was an intoxicating blend that clouded his senses.

Something dangerously alluring.

The heat creeping up his spine left him uncharacteristically quiet.

Of course—

She was no different.

She must have felt the same awkwardness.

He had known her for over half a year, yet never had he seen her this visibly unsettled.

Her crimson eyes refused to meet his.

Her posture was rigid, unmoving, and her lips remained stubbornly shut.

Earlier, she had even stammered.

Embarrassment.

Perhaps she was simply unaccustomed to another’s warmth.

Their quiet steps carried them deeper into the winter garden.

"There’s a bench over there."

Before long, they reached a suitable resting spot.

Carefully, he set her down.

With the night air growing colder, he draped his coat over her shoulders.

Then, lowering himself to one knee, he examined her injured ankle.

Selena muttered,

"I’m fine."

"Saying that while limping is hardly convincing. Please, just relax and let me take care of it."

His firm tone left her no room to argue.

Gently, he slipped off her shoe.

The delicate curve of her foot emerged, bare against the cold air.

Her pale skin was marred by a faint swelling at the ankle.

The snake reached out.

"Hnn…"

A small flinch.

She tensed beneath his touch.

His fingers moved with care, pressing lightly against her ankle.

The soft, silken feel of her foot lingered against his palm.

The warmth of her skin, mingling with the lingering chill of winter, created an oddly charged atmosphere.

A faint heat spread between them.

He massaged the injured area with practiced ease.

"H-Hnn… Hah…"

A quiet, unsteady breath escaped her.

But he pretended not to hear.

As his magic seeped into her skin, the swelling gradually faded.

Pain dissipated, leaving only a residual warmth.

She looked down at him, her gaze unfocused.

He met her eyes with a soft smile.

A carefully constructed innocence.

"It shouldn’t hurt anymore."

"……"

"Master?"

"Ah… Thank you."

She blinked, as if snapping back to reality.

Taking in a slow, measured breath, she hesitated before murmuring,

"I’m sorry… I must have been a burden."

"Not at all."

"But I couldn’t even be a proper partner for the ball you were looking forward to."

"Hmm."

So that’s what was bothering her.

Perhaps because he had been the one to ask her, she had wanted to meet his expectations.

Despite always seeming indifferent, she carried warmth beneath her aloof demeanor.

He shook his head.

"On the contrary—I’m glad."

"…Glad?"

"Because I was able to be of help to you."

"I don’t understand."

"Usually, I’m the one receiving your guidance. But tonight, I was able to do something for you instead. Even if it was something small, that alone is meaningful to me."

"……"

"So, don’t let it weigh on you."

"…I see."

A delayed response.

Her expression grew distant.

Was she sinking into her thoughts again?

For a long moment, she remained silent, then—

A quiet murmur.

A sigh of something long withheld.

"You really are… a good person, Judas."

Perhaps, a lingering regret.

He returned her words with ease.

"Well, I am the disciple of a good person."

"Even if that’s just flattery, thank you."

"It’s the truth. After all, what other teacher would tolerate a student as reckless as me?"

"I never intended to be particularly accommodating."

"That, in itself, is proof. You act indifferent, but deep down, you care."

"You really do have a way with words."

"I simply speak from observation."

Because he had seen it.

Her kindness.

The way she gave her best in every lesson,

The care she put into refining her teaching materials,

The way she never truly turned her back on her students.

In his eyes, Selena was an excellent educator.

If only not for her chronic alcoholism.

‘You're a good person.’

He wanted to tell her that.

But instead of answering, she simply let out a hollow chuckle.

A lone adult, lost in her own thoughts.

The weight of solitude hung over her.

"I was never anything like that, everything I’ve done was simply out of selfishness."

"Everyone lives for their own desires."

That was simply human nature.

Even he had been the same.

A long time ago—

He had wished for his sister to live.

Had wished for her illness to vanish as if by magic.

And when none of that came true,

Had wished he could take her place instead.

They were all selfish wishes.

But those wishes had given him a reason to keep going.

Desire is not a bad thing.

If lonely adults abandoned even that,

They would lose all reason to exist.

It was the last piece of selfhood that made them who they were.

Twisted as it may be.

"So… no one will blame you."

He smiled, warm and reassuring.

As if she had done nothing wrong.

"So please, don’t blame yourself."

"……"

She stared at him, stunned.

Then, slowly—

The tension in her expression loosened, and a quiet laugh escaped her lips.

As if some long-held weight had lifted.

"You really are impossible to argue with."

"Fufu."

"But more than being a ‘good person’… You should be careful. Someone might take advantage of that tongue of yours."

"I think I’ve heard that before."

"You should listen to them."

"I’ll take it to heart."

Her voice was softer now.

The atmosphere lighter.

Perhaps, with that short exchange, even the lingering ache in her ankle had vanished.

She stretched her foot, testing it against the ground.

A bare foot pressed lightly against the garden’s grass.

Her heels had been set aside.

Steadying herself, she turned to him—

And extended a hand.

Her violet hair gleamed beneath the moonlight.

Her lips parted with an invitation.

"Though we’ve left the ball… if this place is suitable, shall we continue our dance?"

"You’re not returning?"

"If I put those heels back on, I might twist my ankle again."

"In that case… it seems we’ll have a ball of our own."

"Meaning is whatever we choose to give it."

A secluded grove, far from prying eyes.

A garden bathed in starlight.

The soft grass beneath their bare feet.

At the center of it all stood a woman and a boy.

Slowly, they clasped hands.

Their mingling warmth drove away the chill of winter.

"How does this feel?"

"I gladly accept."

They began to move.

The distant melodies of the ballroom drifted through the night air, a faint backdrop to their steps.

A clumsy serenade,

One step at a time.

And then another.

"Strange… I never thought I’d find myself dancing with a man."

"Not even once?"

"More like I never had the inclination. I’ve never been interested in anyone."

"Then… does that mean you have no prior experience at all?"

A fleeting thought crossed his mind.

The old superstition—

That if a pure man and woman danced together at the ball, their love would come true.

That memory stirred a question within him.

Selena’s voice carried a teasing lilt as she responded.

"Who knows? What do you think?"

It was an unfamiliar expression.

A hint of playfulness, subtle yet undeniably alluring.

The drunkard master’s hand slid to his waist.

A whisper brushed his ear.

"If that were true… would you take responsibility, as the superstition suggests?"

"Gladly."

"Not even a moment’s hesitation?"

"If that’s what you wished."

"That’s a dangerous thing to say."

Of course—

She didn’t accept it.

"I’ll pass."

"A shame."

"It’s just… I’ve already done too much to pawn off my responsibilities on someone else."

"Even so, your words made me happy."

And so, he would wait.

For the day she freed herself from her burdens.

For the day she could truly forgive herself.

"Being someone’s first… means leaving a special imprint in their memory."

And so—

Knowing that he would remain in her memories as something special filled him with a quiet joy, as luminous as the stars above.

Selena let out a breathy chuckle.

As if she found it all ridiculous.

"If the students found out… I might become quite unpopular."

"Fufu."

Their fingers intertwined.

The wind whispered through the trees, and between the stars and moon,

A final nocturne played.

Perhaps a melody that wove their fates together.

"……"

A silence settled between them.

Neither of them spoke.

With each passing moment, the space between them lessened.

The shape of her body softened against his,

Her warmth seeping through his chest,

The subtle scent of her perfume lacing the air,

And beyond the crimson depths of her eyes—his own reflection.

Perhaps it was the dress, emphasizing every curve,

Or the way the night framed her figure,

But at this moment, she was something both coveted and admired.

And yet, entirely his alone to witness.

The way their hands interlocked carried an unspoken intimacy.

But—

Neither of them broke the silence.

Beneath a sky filled with stars,

Only the wind whispered.

Even this lingering quiet felt intoxicating.

And so,

The night continued.

***

Meanwhile.

A subterranean abyss, cloaked in darkness.

Figures shrouded in crimson-black robes gathered in a circle.

The ground around them was splattered with fresh blood.

"At last, the time has come."

In eerie unison, they chanted.

Their voices were warped, twisted beyond recognition.

Beyond their unholy choir,

A malevolent presence stirred.

Dark mana cracked and splintered,

Scattering like shards of shattered glass.

A mark of the black mages.

"With the blood of the young, we cleanse the filth, and with pure hatred, we ignite the sacred fire."

Their ominous incantations dripped with a terrible intent.

And at the end of their devotions,

Only one thing remained—

A festival of blood and slaughter.

Upon the altar, a collection of books and records lay in disarray.

All of them pertaining to a single institution.

Gallimard Academy.

"By His command, the slumbering calamity shall be roused."

Their voices grew louder.

More frenzied.

The underground chamber pulsed with a sinister energy.

In their eyes, there was only—

Madness.

Hunger.

Carnage.

The fragmented words they spoke melded into a desperate howl.

"Let the Traitor know His will."

And so—

The world was poised on the brink of ruin.

[Translator - Peptobismol]

[Proofreader - Demon God]