The Villains Must Win-Chapter 203: No Second Chances 3

I didn’t know what was going on with this world anymore. Everything felt off-kilter, like reality had shifted sideways while I wasn’t looking.

In that moment, I decided it was best to remain completely still—to pretend I was asleep and hope whatever danger lingered would pass me by.

I felt Christian’s presence hovering over me. Heavy. Cold. Oppressive.

His fingers brushed my hair back from my face, tucking a few strands behind my ear with a strange gentleness. But they were ice cold, and I nearly flinched. Nearly.

Somehow, I held still, even as a chill ran down my spine.

"Oh, Lina," he whispered, voice soft but dripping with something dark. "Why do you have to be so complicated? If you’d just stay put and be a good little girlfriend . . . none of this would’ve happened."

I didn’t understand him—couldn’t understand him. One moment, he was cruel, biting with his words, and the next he was tender, as if we were something sacred. As if we ever could be.

Was he a psychopath? Or something worse?

Was he the villain in this story?

If so, then I wanted no part in his fairytale.

But villains don’t wait for consent.

And if I had been cast into this twisted role, then I had no choice but to play my part—for now. Still and silent, I lay beneath the weight of his contradiction, plotting my next move.

Because if Christian was the villain . . . Then I would become the monster he never saw coming.

Though I didn’t want to believe it, I knew in my gut that he wasn’t like the others.

He didn’t resemble Han Feng, or Alexander, or Reid—or any of the past villains, antiheroes, or so-called "male leads" I had tangled with before. This one was . . . different.

He was dangerously handsome, but in a colder, more restrained way. Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark, unreadable eyes and raven-black hair that seemed to drink in the light. He had the kind of face that didn’t reveal much—but promised everything if you dared to look closer.

And that was the problem.

He didn’t fit the pattern.

In all my previous worlds, the villains wore their danger like a badge—smirks, scars, red flags waving like parade banners. I knew how to navigate those. I knew how to survive them, how to twist their desires into leverage.

But this one . . . This man wasn’t predictable. He didn’t follow the rules I knew. He wasn’t the devil in disguise—he was the kind of shadow that crept in slowly, softly, until it was too late to run.

And maybe that was the most terrifying part.

Was this world a glitch in the system? A new update?

Had the goddamn bunny lied to me?

He said I’d be given an advantage—"As a host and a transmigrator, you’ll be naturally given a cheat. A look into the future," he said. "You’ll have all the information in your head."

But here?

Here, I felt blind.

No red threads. No status screens. No helpful inner monologue guiding me through romance routes and tragic backstories.

Just this strange world that felt off in ways I couldn’t yet define, and this man . . . this unknown variable I couldn’t read.

Something in me whispered that he wasn’t the villain.

But if that was true, then where was the real one?

And worse—what was I supposed to be in this world?

The bunny—no, that two-faced manipulative rat—he was going to pay for this. Once I got out of here, I’d make sure of it. Rip his floppy ears off and shove them down his smug little throat.

But for now . . .

I had no choice.

It was time to play the part. Even if I didn’t know what role I had been cast in.

=== ===

Lina opened her eyes slowly, and the first thing she saw was Christian—his face pale, his expression unreadable as he sat at the edge of the bed, staring at her.

"W-what happened?" she asked weakly, feigning confusion as her fingers clenched the sheets.

"You collapsed. Shock, probably," he replied, voice soft but hollow.

"Shock?" she repeated, blinking. Then it hit her.

Her hand moved unconsciously to her stomach.

"No . . . my baby . . . ," she whispered, barely able to breathe.

Her body had prepared for life, and now, it mourned its loss. Her heart felt just as hollow as the real Lina. Something had been taken—stolen before it could even become real.

The soul inside Lina had always had a soft spot for innocent babies. For stray animals, for fragile things, for babies.

And though it wasn’t her baby, she felt the lost herself.

The loss sank into her chest like a cold stone. She felt it—not just in her body, but in her soul. It cracked something open inside her, something she had fought to keep intact for years.

For a long time, in the warm glow of her memories, Christian had been perfect. The kind of boyfriend people dreamed about. He showered her with gifts, spoiled her with attention, whispered sweet promises when they were alone.

But only when they were alone.

In public, he became a stranger.

He never held her hand in front of others, never looked at her too long. And he always insisted they keep their relationship private. He said it was for the sake of his budding business empire—that image was everything.

He wanted to be seen as the young, ambitious billionaire who had no time for women. She believed him. She trusted him.

But five years passed.

And that’s when she learned the truth.

She had planned to surprise him at his birthday party—something small, just to remind him she was still there, still cheering him on. Like always, she hadn’t been invited. He claimed he couldn’t risk people discovering their relationship.

Still, she went. If anyone asked why she was there, she’d simply say they were just friends—just like everyone already believed their relationship to be.

She arrived just in time to hear the laughter through the door. His friends were already drunk, voices loud and careless.

"I can’t believe you’ve been with Lina all these years," one of them chuckled.

"Any plans to make it official?"

Another voice cut in. "Why would Christian do that when Lina’s just a temporary thing?"

Lina froze.

Then came the final blow.

"I heard Stacey’s coming back. You must be excited, huh, Christian?"

And Christian—he didn’t deny it. He just laughed. That same warm laugh he used with her. But now it felt like a lie.

He didn’t deny anything.

He didn’t deny that Lina was just a stand-in.

The truth hit her like a slap. All these years, he had told her to keep things secret—but he had told them. And they were mocking her behind her back.

The girl he told her not to worry about—the one from the past? Stacey?

She had believed him when he said Stacey meant nothing now. That Lina was his future. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

God, she had believed him.

People had always told her she looked like Stacey. Same eyes, same smile. She thought it was a coincidence. A compliment. But now . . . it felt like a clue she had been too blind to see.

She had been his replacement doll. A placeholder until the original came back.

And then, as if the universe wanted to burn it in permanently, she received the video.

It came from an anonymous sender, but Lina knew. She knew it was Stacey.

In the video, Christian was laughing. Smiling. Kissing Stacey like no one else existed. Their friends cheered in the background, like it was some kind of twisted celebration.

Lina couldn’t breathe.

Everything unraveled from there. The pregnancy scare, the silence, the sudden absences, the lies she pretended not to notice—each one now looked like a crack in the glass she’d been too scared to see.

Christian wasn’t just a liar.

He was a master illusionist.

And she—she had been the willing fool, dancing in his perfect little mirage.

But not anymore.

"Are you okay?" Christina asked her with ath same smile he always wore.

Lina didn’t say anything at first.

She sat still, her fingers tightening into fists on her lap as she tried to steady her breath. Right now, she didn’t have enough—no power, no information, no clear path forward. But she did have one thing: resolve.

If he truly was the villain of this world, then it was too early to act recklessly. And if he wasn’t . . . then perhaps she had just been a placeholder all along. Either way, one truth cut through the fog.

She wanted out.

He had been pushing her away slowly, callously, as though preparing her for an exit he didn’t have the guts to voice himself.

Fine. She’d do it for him.

Let him taste what it was like to lose her. Let him sit in the silence of her absence and feel what he thought he could so easily discard.

She didn’t know if he was the villain—but just in case, she could always pivot. Make him fall for her if she needed to. Or remain distant, calculating, and observe from the shadows. For now, this was the best move.

A controlled sacrifice.

"I want to break up," she said.

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