The Worst Villain is Actually a Cute Girl-Chapter 57

The one who loses a game has no right to complain.

A promise is a promise.

And I wasn’t about to break a childish deal just because I didn’t like {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} the outcome.

As I’d said from the beginning, I had to grant each of the kids their one wish.

Even if it was something absurd, I was prepared to go along with it all.

After everything I’ve been through—all the hardships and trials—there was nothing these kids could ask for that I couldn’t handle. I wasn’t about to be scared off by a few childish requests.

So come on, bring it on!

With that kind of confidence, I faced the full force of the children’s desires—

And completely underestimated them.

Aaaaaah!

Okay. This is too much.

Click! Click!

Flashes burst in front of my eyes again and again. I squinted under the blinding light.

With a small sigh, I lowered my gaze.

Right now, I was wearing all sorts of pretty, frilly outfits that looked like they’d belong in a little girl’s wardrobe. I struck one pose after another as the camera shutters clicked nonstop.

Why... why am I doing this?

I hate this.

I really hate these kinds of clothes.

No matter how much time passes, there’s still a man’s mind inside me that instinctively rejects this. That’s why I usually go for simple, comfortable clothes.

I wanted to rip these off immediately and be done with it—but I couldn’t.

Because I made a promise.

Still, even putting that aside...

How long has it been already...?

Two hours? Three?

I finally reached my limit and carefully voiced a complaint, just to test the waters.

The girl in front of me puffed out her cheeks, clearly sulking. But her eyes said something else entirely—“You don’t get it.”

Ugh.

“How much longer do I have to wear this...?”

Only after I said that out loud did her face brighten.

She’d told me over and over—no more communicating with shrugs or stares. I had to speak.

She smiled sweetly, pressing her palms to her cheeks.

“Just a little longer.”

“...”

“Lily looks good in everything, so I want to dress you up more.”

“I’ve already worn enough...”

“If not now, you’ll never wear them again. That’s why—until I’m satisfied. That’s the promise.”

“...”

I had nothing to say back.

I pressed a finger to my brow as a wave of dizziness hit me from sheer emotional fatigue.

They say a single word can carry the weight of a thousand, and I should’ve known better.

As I silently cursed my past self for making such a stupid promise, I continued playing along with the girl.

Her name was Nicole.

Nicole was a friend who loved clothes. Naturally, she had more outfits than most of the others—and sometimes even made them herself.

She was incredibly skilled at sewing—so much so that I often found myself genuinely impressed.

Nicole had made clothes for the other kids, but I had never been a good fit for her fashion experiments.

All the times I’d refused before seemed to have exploded in this moment, pouring out in full.

Nicole giggled happily, glowing with joy.

When would this end? When would I finally be free?

Maid uniforms and frilly dresses.

Bright green one-pieces and sharp little suits.

Cute animal pajamas.

Outfits kept coming out of nowhere, and I kept being made to change into them.

I kept hoping one of the other kids would speak up and say “Okay, maybe that’s enough.”

But instead of envying Nicole, they looked at me with wide, sparkling eyes.

Not a single one seemed the least bit displeased.

In fact, they looked just as happy as she did.

“Alright then—eek!”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“Stop making weird noises! But really, you’re so cute. You’re so cute I just want to squeeze you!”

“So pretty... you really look like a princess out of a fairytale...”

Even the other kids were grinning ear to ear, clearly having the time of their lives watching me change outfits.

I turned toward the adults, hoping someone—anyone—might step in and rein this in.

Red and Rene were too busy taking pictures, snapping away like paparazzi.

Worse, they were pulling out even more outfits from somewhere, feeding the chaos.

The whole place was bright, loud, cheerful—a peaceful and lively mess filled with laughter.

Everyone was smiling.

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Everyone... except me.

I was the only one suffering in silence, striking poses as I swallowed my misery.

Damn it.

*

After leaving the building, the Prophet drove for several more minutes until a village wreathed in flames came into view.

He stepped out of the car and walked into the village.

A village where peace had been shattered.

Smoke marked the end of calm.

The air was thick not with fragrance, but stench.

Debris and corpses littered the streets in gruesome disarray.

Without flinching at the horrific scene before him, the Prophet calmly walked toward the gathering of people.

In the plaza, the surviving villagers were surrounded by cultists.

Their faces were deathly pale, trembling in fear from the disaster that had befallen them.

This had been a village where people, even in a cruel world, tried their best to live decent lives.

But peace had not lasted long.

The Church of the Reaper had arrived—and attacked.

Children’s cries rang through the chaos.

The Prophet, irritable after being roused from sleep, was about to signal the cultists to silence them—

When one brave villager stepped forward.

“Please... I beg you. We’ll give you anything you want, just spare our lives. I’m begging you.”

The man bowed low, his forehead pressed to the ground.

The Prophet gave a serene smile.

“Haha... anything, huh? That’s amusing. Look around you. In this situation, do you think your permission matters? If there’s something we want, we can just take it.”

“Please, at least spare the children!”

“Why do you think we came here? You think it’s just to rob you? If you know anything about us, you should know it’s not something so trivial.”

“I beg you!”

There wasn’t a soul alive who didn’t know what the Church of the Reaper was.

A fanatical organization that committed terrorism under the guise of salvation.

The man knew it was hopeless. But still, he clung to a shred of hope.

Starting with him, other villagers dropped to their knees and begged for their lives.

For some reason, the Prophet chuckled behind his hand, amused.

One muscular man suddenly stood up, unable to endure it any longer.

“You, you lunatics! Who the hell are you to come into our village and start killing us?! Did we ask you for this?! Did we?!”

His voice shook with rage—and fear.

Clack.

In a blink, cultists moved. A staff was pressed against the man’s neck.

He gasped and fell silent.

The Prophet approached.

He pulled a pistol from his holster and slowly dragged it across the man’s cheek. Cold and heavy, it made the man’s face go pale.

Then, without doing anything else, the Prophet pulled the gun away.

The man let out a sigh of relief—

But a second later, the Prophet pressed the barrel to his forehead and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

The man collapsed. He never moved again.

“S-Someone help!”

“Mommy!!”

“Aaaah!”

The instant one villager died, panic erupted.

“Now now, quiet down.”

Raising his index finger, the Prophet slowly opened his eyes.

Blood-red, ominous eyes.

Like prey before a predator, the crowd fell silent.

As silence enveloped the plaza, the Prophet lowered his finger and spoke.

“You’re all too afraid of us. There’s no need for that. We’re not bad people who bully the weak. We came here to help you.”

“H-Help us how...?”

Bang!

The man who asked the question dropped dead.

“Like that.”

The others wanted to scream, but fear held their lips shut.

“This world is full of pain and suffering. Everyone in it lives steeped in misery. Even now, people are in agony. Isn’t that heartbreaking?”

Bang!

An old man collapsed.

“We’re here to free you from that pain.”

Bang!

A thin man fell next.

“Pain is brief. Once you endure that brief moment, you’ll be free from all the tragedies and torment of this world. Your souls will reach paradise—where you’ll live in eternal happiness. So there’s no need to be afraid.”

Bang!

Another one fell.

The Prophet raised his hand. The cultists slammed their staffs to the ground.

“““All for the Reaper’s will.”””

A thunderous chant echoed alongside the clinking of metal rings.

They struck the ground again.

“““Peaceful rest in eternal silence.”””

The madness of the Church left the villagers reeling, dizzy with terror.

They couldn’t comprehend what they were seeing. Their eyes darkened with despair.

“Send these poor souls to our god.”

With those final words, the Prophet turned and walked away.

The cultists moved in with their staffs.

Behind him, wails of anguish and despair rang out—

But the Prophet didn’t look back. He walked in silence.

He holstered his pistol, pulled out his phone, and made a call.

A deep voice answered.

It was Grey.

[Is everything taken care of?]

“Yes. It’s done. But there’s something I need to say.”

[What is it?]

“I’m moving the prophecy up.”

[What do you mean?]

“As you know, my plan failed spectacularly. I’ve decided small tricks won’t work anymore. I’ll go in myself—and end it in one move.”

[That seems rash. There’s still plenty of opportunity. We should proceed carefully.]

“No. Now’s the time to strike directly. No more detours.”

[You sound impatient.]

“You think I’m impatient? No—I’ve never been more calm.”

The Prophet briefly explained the new operation.

After hearing the plan, Grey spoke.

[Do you think it’s possible?]

“No doubt. Let’s bring this tedious game to an end.”

[Alright.]

The Prophet hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

As he approached the parked car, a cultist opened the backseat door for him.

He leaned back into the seat and smiled faintly.

They’re all so stupid. To think they really believe that nonsense about salvation through death. Makes them so easy to use.

He stared out the window at the burning village and reaffirmed his resolve.

All of this... is for the destruction of this world. I’ll make the people of this city—who cast me aside—feel the exact same despair I felt.

Red is strong.

But no matter how strong someone is, there’s always darkness in their heart.

And he would find that crack—wedge himself inside—and plant the will of his god.

Red would be no exception.

The Prophet smiled as he imagined the ending he desired drawing closer.