System Error: The Hero is a Villain? Chapter 09

System Error: The Hero is a Villain? Chapter 09

Silence stretched after the story ended.

Finally, the system sighed. “Skimmed his backstory before. Reading it properly now… the villain really drew the short straw.”

High praise from a jaded system.

It made me curious. “What happened after? Chaos, right?”

“Took over the entire South Brooklyn dock district. Abandoned warehouses. Illegal gambling dens. Cops patrolled in pairs there.”

“Surface level? Controlled port freight. Construction unions. Three underground casinos. Everyone assumed he was expanding. Preparing for war.”

“Truth? First month there, he purged every crew pushing dope to middle schoolers. Dropped protection rates lower than any rival family dared. Decreed: ‘On Moretti’s turf, harass civilians—disappear.'”

I stared. “So he went there to…”

“Impose order,” the system said, tone complex. “Most lawless part of the city. Now old ladies take out trash after nine without fear. He built a reputation so terrifying—’Moretti the Butcher,’ ‘Dock Slayer’—small gangs scatter at his name. Never start trouble.”

“…”

“System flagged him ‘villain’ based on algorithmic faction tags.”

“That’s insane.”

“Follows the rules.” The system sighed. “Tags in his data: ‘Leader of illegal armed forces.’ ‘Organizer of gang warfare.’ ‘Operator in grey zones.’ Algorithms don’t parse intent. Only action. He played the role so well, he played himself onto the villain list.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Finally managed, “…So he’s a guy doing good things?”

“Doing good while wearing a monster’s mask. In short: an idiot.”

Tragic. Inside and out of the book.

Yet I sensed Lucian didn’t care.

For him, protecting what mattered outweighed misunderstanding.

That was the kind of man he was. Steadfast. Unshakable.

“Honey.”

A familiar voice came from behind.

I turned.

Lucian stood under the light. A tall, indifferent cedar in a long coat.

The moment our eyes met, frost melted into a gentle smile.

My heart hammered. I kept my voice steady.

“What are you doing here? Thought you’d send bodyguards for my things.”

Lucian crossed to me. Took my bag with one hand. Arched a brow.

“Can’t I carry them myself?”

“Get in the car.”

I slid into the passenger seat.

Before he started the engine, I caught his hand.

Lucian blinked. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head. “Eyes hurt. Feels like something’s in them. Blow on them for me?”

Lucian leaned close.

His eyes glittered in the moonlight. Soft. Radiant.

Beautiful enough to drown in.

He frowned. “Red indeed. Don’t move. Let me help.”

I didn’t listen.

The moment he neared, I tilted my chin and pressed my lips to his.

Lucian froze, caught off guard.

I laughed. “Easy to fool. I said that just to kiss you.”

He kissed me back instantly.

The world narrowed to us. To the taste of each other.

This kiss wasn’t frantic. It was deep. Deliberate. Quiet.

Safe. Warm.

I could’ve died in that moment and felt complete.

Between kisses, Lucian chuckled softly.

“I lied too.”

“Didn’t come for the bags. Came because I missed you.”

I’d never understood love.

Age seven. Mom made pancakes. Arranged strawberries into a smiley face. Hugged me. “Love you more than anything, sweetie.”

Next morning, she was gone. A note. A key.

Age eight. Dad arrived with a new wife. A baby. “I’ll always love you. This changes nothing.”

A month later, weekly calls became monthly. Then Christmas cards only.

Age fourteen. I moved from table to empty table in the cafeteria. No one sat across from me.

One day, a boy with glasses stopped me after school. Handed me a handwritten letter. I read it blankly. Handed it back. “No, thank you.”

He ran, shouting over his shoulder. “Freak! No wonder no one sits with you!”

He wasn’t wrong. I knew it.

Older, I mastered social scripts. When to smile. Nod. Laugh politely. Report cards said “Excellent.” Teachers wrote “Cheerful. Well-liked.”

Only I knew every expression was programmed. Press “Social.” Smile. Press “Alone.” Shut down. Nothing underneath.

I’d tried to feel for others. Jealousy. Envy. Affection. Hatred.

Always failed.

Everyone was “fine.” Indifferent. Interchangeable.

Then the System found me.

Said I was chosen because my “baseline emotional threshold was critically low.” Ideal for vicious side characters. Immune to traumatic plots.

In short: hard to hurt. Perfect for roles the male lead would “kill for revenge.”

I agreed without hesitation.

One world was as good as another. Nothing worth staying for.

But I was wrong.

I never imagined meeting someone who hid behind masks better than I did. Misunderstood. Yet still carried a light inside.

I saw that light from miles away.

Lucian endured deeper pain than I could fathom. Yet, like his mother, he knew how to love.

Everyone in my life had left.

Only he proved, through action, that love existed.

Irrational. Unwavering.