Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death-Chapter 64: Owl

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{Inside The Projection}

Days blurred into seconds, weeks into minutes.

The early mornings crept in like sneaky little thieves, robbing the night of its quiet despair and dumping them into yet another day of trudging south.

Crunching grass.

The screeches of monsters in the distance.

And, every now and then, the blood-curdling scream of some poor Seeker biting off more than they could chew.

That was their soundtrack.

Malik was always the first one up, moving before the Shams even had a chance to wake up.

His steps were lighter now—not in a carefree way, but in a way that spoke of his cowardice.

His eyes were fixed on the horizon as if it held all the answers he’d been searching for.

Behind him, Jasmine and Safira dragged their feet, noses buried in their Scrolls like zealots reading their holy scripture.

Every second of them not talking was an extra second to memorize every damn line.

Not because they wanted to, no, not at all.

They were long past the honeymoon period.

It had gotten boring to say the least.

Now, they only did it because they had to.

And it was also used as a way to escape their current... mood?

Right, mood.

Yet no amount of studying could completely distract them from that.

Malik was obviously different.

They’d noticed it the first morning—how could they not?

But saying it out loud? Acknowledging it?

That felt like the kind of move that might just snap the thread holding him together.

So, they played dumb.

Pretended not to see it.

Hoped, prayed, wished that if they ignored it long enough, it’d disappear like a bad dream.

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But dreams didn’t last forever, and after enough time passed, reality hit.

They couldn’t keep pretending.

They wanted to ask him.

Wanted to just rip down the wall he’d built around himself.

Demand answers.

But every time they got close, all it took was one look at his face to stop them cold.

That look? Yeah, that look wasn’t something they were equipped to handle.

Their courage just crippled when against it.

Jasmine’s brows pulled together, twitching like they were begging her to do something.

Say something. Anything. Yet she did nothing, only stared at her Scroll.

Safira? She didn’t share her struggle.

Well, at least not in the visual department.

Her eyes were practically drilled into the back of his head.

Her lips parted like she was about to say something—only to snap shut again.

The cycle repeated a few times before she gave up, her frustration bubbling over.

Leaning closer to Jasmine, she hissed under her breath, finally letting the words out:

"...What’s with him? He’s... different."

Jasmine glanced at her, her own unease mirrored hers, plain as day on their faces.

"I don’t know. But… it’s like he’s not here anymore."

Their voices were low, cautious, yes, but Malik didn’t miss a word.

Still, that didn’t mean he’d react.

Hell, even if they had screamed at him, he probably wouldn’t have given them any mind.

His face stayed blank, eyes scanning the landscape without truly seeing it.

And that lack of reaction—that answer—hit harder than anything he could’ve said.

After all, what was the feeling furthest from love? Indifference.

It wasn’t just frustrating; it hurt.

"Did we…"

Safira’s voice cracked as she hesitated.

"Did we do something wrong?"

Jasmine’s heart clenched at the sound of it... the vulnerability.

She reached out, resting a hand on Safira’s shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze.

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"I don’t think it’s us. It wouldn’t make sense if it was. But…"

She bit her lip, her gaze dropping.

"I don’t know how to fix it either."

Safira turned her eyes back to Malik.

Ahead of them, his figure stood tall, shadow stretching long under the morning light.

And yet, it felt like he was slipping further and further away.

Helplessness curled up in their guts.

Silence screamed louder than anything else.

Too scared to reach him, no matter how badly they wanted to.

This tension between the three of them was almost comical if it wasn’t so damn heavy.

"I just... I wish he’d tell us what’s wrong."

Jasmine’s gaze flicked toward Malik again.

"Maybe he doesn’t know how. Maybe he thinks it’s easier this way."

"Easier for who?"

Safira’s words came out sharp.

"Because it’s definitely not easier for us."

Jasmine didn’t reply.

What could she even say to that?

She didn’t have the answers.

Neither of them did.

And any words she could come up with felt empty.

So silence stretched between them again until Safira finally let out a sigh.

"...Fine"

She yanked a Scroll out from her belt.

The enchanted parchment unrolled with a soft shimmer.

"Might as well do something productive."

Jasmine nodded as she pulled out her own Scroll.

The two of them fell into their usual rhythm, studying as they walked.

Their eyes scanned the lines.

Their lips moved silently, muttering directions, trying to commit the Path to memory.

For a while, the world around them blurred out of focus.

They escaped—ignored the ache in their chests.

The million questions they weren’t ready to ask.

But because they were so focused on that, they almost missed it.

What they needed most besides Malik’s validation.

A mountain.

There it was, sitting not too far off in the distance.

It loomed, jagged peaks stretched like claws aimed at the sky.

By then, the air had cooled, and the light was dipping lower, casting long shadows across the grassy ground.

...Finally. Progress.

Finally, something that made the whole miserable journey feel just a little worth it.

They were almost upon a cave; they could FINALLY ascend!

Safira’s heart jumped, and she almost let out a cheer.

But one glance at Malik’s face stopped her dead.

"...Hey~ we’re about to..."

Jasmine noticed it after her, though she, unlike her little friend, barely reacted.

Atleast not outwardly.

"Y-yeah, yeah—"

"Quiet."

At that word, both of them shared a quick look, their excitement dimming.

This wasn’t a celebratory moment.

Not even close.

For whatever reason, the mood was off—way off.

And it wasn’t because he shut them up.

No, it felt like the world itself waited for something to explode.

Malik’s whole demeanor screamed danger.

His shoulders were locked up tight, his steps heavy like he was bracing for a fight, and his eyes darted left and right like something was stalking them from up above.

"What’s with him now?"

Jasmine didn’t answer Safira’s mutter, her focus entirely on Malik.

But before the blonde could say more, a strong gust of wind came out of nowhere.

It whipped through the terrain, kicking up dust and sending their clothes flapping like mad.

Malik paused mid-step, his body freezing like he’d been hit with a spell.

His hand shot to the hilt of his shamshir, clutching it, knuckles turning white.

Shudders racked his body, each one feeling like a herald of death.

"What’s going on?!"

Safira’s voice was barely a whisper, quickly followed by Malik’s command:

"Stay close."

His tone was as flat as could be.

He didn’t even glance back, eyes locked upward.

Another gust ripped through the area, stronger this time, sending dirt and pebbles flying.

And then they saw it—a massive shadow cutting across the ground.

Safira gasped, instinctively stepping closer to Jasmine.

"Is that a...?"

Malik’s grip on the shamshir tightened further, his jaw clenching so hard it ached.

He was braced, ready for whatever fresh nightmare was about to drop on them.

The shadow circled once overhead before descending.

And when its owner came into view, the tension in Malik’s body didn’t ease—but it shifted.

...Confusion.

It wasn’t fear or anticipation of an attack anymore.

It was utter confusion.

Like Safira, he expected a Roc.

One ready to tear them apart.

Instead, he got... an owl.