The Worst Villain is Actually a Cute Girl-Chapter 11

I began organizing my thoughts.

Why had I come to the orphanage?

First, because it didn’t feel right to ignore the effort someone went through to prepare that device for me.

Second, even if I wasn’t sure whether it was genuine or not, disregarding the concern of someone who worried about me didn’t sit well with me.

And third—the biggest reason—was my own curiosity.

Was this truly a place built with goodwill, meant to care for children? Or was it just another orphanage built on hypocrisy and self-interest?

I wanted to see it with my own eyes.

‘Unusual things tend to stand out, don’t they?’

As I walked through the hallway, the dim lights flickered occasionally. The air was cold against my ankles—probably because the heating wasn’t on.

The wallpaper was old and faded, with tiny cracks forming here and there. Even the floor creaked with an unsettling sound.

I passed by several rooms, stopping to peek inside each one.

The first room I checked was scattered with dolls and toys—things that children would like.

After taking a closer look, I noticed that they were all old models, things released a long time ago.

They probably couldn’t afford anything new.

That’s when a sketchbook lying open on the floor caught my eye.

A drawing of people holding hands, smiling brightly.

I flipped through the pages. Another picture. Then another. I kept turning the pages, examining each drawing.

The drawings weren’t well-done. They were just typical, childish scribbles.

And yet, they caught my attention because—

‘They’re all smiling...’

The atmosphere of the drawings was warm and cheerful.

Drawings /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ reflect the emotions of the person who created them.

Whoever drew this must have been happy living here.

I closed the sketchbook, tidied up a little, and moved on to the next room.

After thoroughly checking all the rooms on the first floor, I went up the stairs to the second floor.

The rooms there were the same.

Traces of children were everywhere.

Looking out the window, I noticed a small flowerbed in the yard.

The flowers were blooming in vibrant colors.

Had the children planted them?

Curious, I went back downstairs and stepped outside, heading toward the flowerbed.

Up close, I saw that it was a very tiny garden.

But despite its size, I could tell it had been carefully maintained.

Since I was already outside, I wandered around the yard a little.

There was a ball lying on the ground, along with a seesaw and a swing set.

My overall impression was—

‘It’s... normal.’

Yes. Completely normal.

And in this city, normalcy was rare.

It was nothing like the orphanage I had stayed in before.

That’s what made it so fascinating.

The fact that a place like this, one that truly cared for its children, actually existed.

So far, everything seemed fine.

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And yet—

‘What’s with this feeling of being watched?’

While I was wandering around alone, I kept feeling eyes on me.

I turned around, looked in every direction—but saw no one.

At first, I thought the children were secretly watching me from a hiding spot.

But that wasn’t it. There was no one lingering nearby.

There weren’t even any signs of movement.

So why did I feel like I was being observed?

‘It’s like I’ve stepped into the belly of a beast... A really unpleasant sensation.’

Now that I thought about it, I had been feeling this way ever since I first arrived near the orphanage.

‘It’s not an outright hostile gaze, but it’s definitely persistent. What is it?’

Come to think of it—I hadn’t seen a single child.

They weren’t inside the building.

They weren’t outside either.

There were no signs of them playing in the yard, no sounds of laughter.

Had they all gone out somewhere?

Rene had said she was making snacks.

Which meant it was almost snack time—the time children loved the most.

Even if I did nothing, they would return on their own.

If I went looking for them, I might just miss them.

Would it be better to wait inside?

Or should I go back to Rene and ask where they were?

‘...Hm? What’s that?’

That’s when I noticed it.

Against the fence, a metal panel had been propped up unnaturally.

I moved it aside—revealing a small hole.

I crouched down and peered inside.

A tunnel.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Too narrow for an adult, but just the right size for a child.

I crawled inside.

The passage wasn’t long.

When I emerged from the other side, I found myself in an unusual place.

It looked like an abandoned building.

No—it was an abandoned building.

That’s when I heard a faint sound.

I perked up my ears, trying to identify it.

It wasn’t the loud chatter of children playing.

I followed the sound.

‘...Singing?’

A slow, gentle melody drifted into my ears.

It was nothing like the loud, overwhelming music of the city.

This song was soft, soothing.

A warm, mysterious kind of melody.

And yet, something about it felt odd.

It wasn’t unfamiliar.

‘Have I heard this before? But I can’t remember...’

I searched my memories, trying to find a song that matched.

But I couldn’t recall anything, and it was frustrating.

‘Whatever. If I can’t remember it instantly, it must not have been important.’

The song itself wasn’t what mattered.

What mattered was—who was singing it?

It didn’t take long to reach the source.

‘...Oh?’

That’s when I remembered.

The song I couldn’t place.

I had heard it before.

A long time ago, a lost child had sung it.

She had asked if she could sing, and I had let her.

And I had heard this exact song.

Was her name... Rena?

‘I never thought I’d see her again in a place like this. Small world.’

Under the open sky—

Standing in a beam of sunlight—

A girl with golden hair was singing.

Six children sat in front of her, listening quietly.

They were so focused on the song that they hadn’t noticed me yet.

Then, as the song came to an end—

Applause erupted from the children.

Rena scratched the back of her head, looking shy.

She was about to start another song—

But then, she saw me standing at the entrance.

Her eyes widened in shock.

The other children turned their heads toward me as well.

Silence fell over the room.

*

While Red and Stal were resting on the bench, a commotion stirred around them.

"Isn't that the Ice Prince, Isaac?"

"He wasn’t on the participant list for this job. What’s he doing here?"

"Heh~ So that’s what he looks like in person."

Their gazes shifted toward the source of the disturbance.

Most of the fixers around were looking in the same direction.

A man.

A strikingly handsome man with black hair tied back in a ponytail.

He glanced around before stopping when he spotted Red and Stal on the bench.

With a smile like a child who had just found treasure, he approached them.

He came to a halt directly in front of Red.

"I heard about the job and came to check it out, but it looks like it’s already over."

The man—Isaac—greeted Stal briefly before turning to Red.

"Impressive. From what I heard, this was the kind of job that would’ve given even A-rank fixers a hard time. But just by having you involved, it got handled so easily. As expected of Red. I’m always in awe of your strength."

"Ah~ Yeah. Thanks for the compliment."

Red responded with a flat tone, unimpressed.

But Isaac seemed pleased just by the fact that she answered at all.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he shifted to a more concerned expression.

"I heard you fought the Reaper. Are you okay?"

"If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be standing here, would I?"

"You really are incredible. To fight the Reaper and walk away unscathed... Some of my acquaintances weren’t so lucky."

Even if she wasn’t particularly fond of someone, Red wasn’t heartless enough to be dismissive about news of their death.

She scratched the back of her head, looking a bit guilty, about to offer some form of condolence—

But Isaac cut her off.

"No need to offer condolences. It’s fine."

"In this line of work, these things happen all the time. You and I both know that. No need to dwell on it."

His nonchalant attitude made Red frown, her thoughts drifting to memories she’d rather not recall.

Annoyance crept into her voice.

"So, what does a busy man like you want over here? This isn’t your territory. Don’t tell me you came all the way just because you missed me?"

"Haha, cold as ever. But you know, I don’t mind that about you."

Red’s frown deepened.

"I was passing through for a job and heard you were here, so I thought I’d at least say hi."

"Really?"

"Well, you do ignore my calls and messages."

"Be grateful I haven’t blocked you yet."

"Anyway, it’s not just about saying hi. I actually have a favor to ask you."

"...A favor?"

"Yeah. It’s something only you can handle."

Red locked eyes with Isaac, waiting for him to elaborate.

Just as he was about to speak—

"Sir, we’re running out of time."

A female fixer standing behind Isaac called out to him.

Isaac’s expression soured.

"Ugh, fine, I got it."

He sighed.

"Sorry. I have to take care of an urgent job, so I’ll explain later. Just promise me you won’t ignore my next call."

Isaac turned to leave but suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Then—

"Here, take this."

He tossed something toward Red.

She caught it effortlessly and glanced at what she had in her hand.

A can of coffee.

Ice-cold, as if it had just been pulled from a fridge.

When she looked back at Isaac, he was grinning.

With a wave of his hand, he walked away.

Red, as if dealing with trash, immediately passed the can to Stal.

Stal cracked it open, took a sip, and remarked—

"He hasn’t changed a bit. But thanks to him, at least you—"

"Shut up."

Red cut him off immediately.

"What? I didn’t even say anything yet."

"I know what you were going to say. So just shut up."

Stal shrugged and took another sip.

"You two used to get along, though."

Red and Isaac.

Red, bold and fearless, with unwavering decisiveness.

Isaac, knowledgeable and calculating, always offering advice that seemed to predict the future.

Fire and ice—two opposites that, strangely, fit well together.

But just like how fire and ice could never truly coexist, at some point, the two had drifted apart.

"It was probably after the kids at Isaac’s orphanage died. What even happened back then?"

Red’s mind drifted to that day.

The day of the children's funeral.

A day when rain poured relentlessly.

And she had seen it.

That moment had shattered her view of Isaac.

Red returned from her thoughts, waving her hand dismissively.

"It’s nothing. You don’t need to know, so don’t worry about it."

As if trying to erase that memory, she turned her attention back to the documents in her hands.

A list of people the Cult of the Reaper was monitoring.

And on that list—

Was the hooded, masked, mute child she had met before.