I'm the Villain, But the Heroines Keep Choosing Me-Chapter 166: The Words

The actors exchanged glances, then shrugged and resumed. Though their performances were noticeably more nervous now.

Damien dropped his own disguise. No point in him hiding if she was exposed.

"That’s Lord Valcrest!" someone hissed. "The shadow wielder!"

"And he’s here with the queen!"

"Are they... together?"

Oh good. The gossip was starting fresh.

"We should probably leave," Damien suggested quietly.

"No." Lyristae’s voice had that stubborn edge he was learning to recognize. "I’m watching the play. They can stare all they want."

So they stayed, watching the increasingly nervous actors stumble through their comedy while the crowd watched them more than the performance. When it ended, Lyristae applauded enthusiastically and tossed the actors a gold coin that was probably more than they made in a month.

"That was wonderful!" she called. "Truly entertaining!"

The actors looked like they might cry with relief.

As they left the plaza, people parted around them. Some bowing, some whispering, all definitely recognizing who they were.

"So much for anonymity," Lyristae sighed.

"We had a good hour."

"An excellent hour. Worth it even if I’m now going to be known as the queen who sneaks out to watch bad street theater."

"Could be worse titles."

She led him through the city with more confidence now, no longer hiding. They stopped at a bookshop where Lyristae got into a surprisingly heated debate with the owner about military strategy texts. Visited a weapons smith where she examined sword techniques with professional interest. Found a small café where they served coffee strong enough to wake the dead.

People stared, whispered, occasionally worked up the courage to approach. Lyristae handled it with grace, answering questions, accepting well-wishes, being remarkably patient with the attention.

"You’re good at this," Damien observed during a rare quiet moment. "The public queen thing."

"I’ve had practice. Six years of it." She stirred her coffee absently. "Though usually I’m in full regalia with guards and attendants. This is... different. More personal."

"Good different or bad different?"

"Good. Strange, but good." She looked at him. "Thank you for coming with me. I know this wasn’t how you planned to spend your afternoon."

"I didn’t have plans beyond recovering from last night."

"We’re not mentioning last night."

"You just mentioned it."

"That doesn’t count. I was making a point."

"About screaming?"

"I’m going to stab you."

"You’d have to catch me first."

"I’m a shadow wielder with eighty-four percent corruption. I can definitely catch you."

"Want to test that theory? I’ve always wondered if you were faster"

Her eyes gleamed. "Are you challenging me to a chase through the city?"

"Maybe."

"That’s incredibly undignified for both our positions."

"Is that a no?"

She grinned. "That’s a try to catch me if you can."

She shadow-transited immediately, appearing on a rooftop two buildings away.

Damien laughed and followed.

They chased each other across Valdara’s rooftops, using shadow magic to jump impossible distances, appearing and disappearing in bursts of darkness. It was completely inappropriate. Absolutely undignified.

And the most fun Damien had had in weeks.

Below, citizens pointed and shouted. Some laughed, others looked scandalized. Two powerful figures playing like children across their skyline.

Lyristae was fast. Her eighty-four percent corruption gave her advantages, and she knew the city’s layout better. But Damien had the Second Core and enhanced reflexes.

He caught her on the roof of a temple, both of them breathing hard and grinning like idiots.

"I win," he announced.

She was still catching her breath, leaning against him. "That was reckless."

"Completely."

"We’re going to hear about it from everyone."

"Probably."

"Worth it?"

"Definitely."

They sat on the temple roof, legs dangling over the edge, watching the sun start to set over the city. Valdara spread out below them, lights beginning to flicker on as evening approached.

"I haven’t done something that pointless in years," Lyristae said quietly. "Just running for the sake of running. No real purpose, no strategic value. Just... because it was fun."

"You should do pointless things more often."

"Hard to justify when there’s always a crisis needing attention."

"The crisis can wait an hour. You’re allowed to have fun."

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I forget that sometimes. That I’m allowed to just be a person instead of a queen."

They sat in comfortable silence as the city transitioned from day to night. Temple bells rang somewhere, marking the evening hour. The scent of cooking fires drifted up from below.

"Can I tell you something?" Lyristae asked.

"Always."

"This was the best day I’ve had in... I don’t know how long. Maybe ever, across all iterations." Her voice was soft.

"Even though we got recognized and chased across rooftops and probably scandalized half the city?"

"Especially because of that. It was real. Spontaneous. Not choreographed or planned or politically relevant." She turned to look at him. "You make me want to be more than just competent. You make me want to actually live instead of just surviving between crises."

"That’s..." Damien didn’t know how to respond to that.

"You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know." She stood, brushing off her borrowed dress. "We should probably head back before my advisors send the guard to find me."

"Probably."

They shadow-transited back to the palace, appearing in the gardens rather than inside. The evening air was cool, carrying the scent of flowers and the distant sounds of palace activity.

"Thank you," Lyristae said as they walked toward the main building. "For today. For playing along with my spontaneous nonsense."

"It wasn’t nonsense. It was important."

"Buying cheap jewelry and watching bad theater?"

"Reminding yourself you’re human. That you’re allowed to want things just because you want them, not because they serve strategic purposes."

She stopped walking, turning to face him fully. "You’re very good at that."

"At what?"

"Saying exactly what I need to hear without making it sound condescending or rehearsed." She stepped closer. "It’s infuriating how much I like it."

"Should I stop?"

"Absolutely not."

She kissed him, soft and unhurried. Not passionate like last night – just sweet. Genuine affection without expectation.

When they separated, Damien found himself speaking before thinking.

"I love you."

Lyristae froze. "What?"

Oh. He’d said that out loud.

"I..." Damien processed what had just come out of his mouth. His mind analytical framework was screaming that it was too soon, too fast, not strategically optimal.

He ignored it.

"I love you," he repeated, more certain this time.

"You can’t just say that!" Lyristae’s voice pitched higher. "We’ve been doing this for less than a day! You can’t possibly—"

"You’ve loved me for so, so, so long. I think I’m allowed to catch up quickly."

"That’s not— that’s different! I’ve had time to—" She stopped, looking at him with wide eyes. "You mean it. You actually mean it."

"I do."

"But you said you weren’t sure yet. That you needed time to figure out what you felt."

"Apparently watching you get excited about buying cheap jewelry and laughing at bad theater was enough time."

"That’s ridiculous. People don’t fall in love over street vendors and rooftop chases."

"Why not? We’re not exactly conventional people."

Lyristae made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "You’re serious."

"Is this bad? You seem upset."

"I’m not upset! I’m overwhelmed! I’ve waited a long time for you to say that and now you’re saying it after one day and I don’t know how to process it!" She was pacing now, gesturing wildly. "I had this whole timeline planned out. You’d slowly develop feelings, I’d be patient, eventually after months or years you might reach the point where you’d—"

Damien caught her mid-pace, pulling her close. "I’m not following your timeline. I’m terrible at following anyone’s timeline. You should know that by now."

"I hate you," she said into his chest.

"No you don’t."

"No," she agreed, her arms wrapping around him. "I really don’t."

They stood in the garden, holding each other while palace staff probably watched from windows and gossiped about the queen and her shadow-wielding lover.

"I love you too," Lyristae said quietly. "In case that wasn’t abundantly obvious."

"It was a little obvious."

"Only a little?"

"Eighteen lives trying to save me. That’s moderately obvious."

She laughed, pulling back to look at him. "This is real, right? Not some corruption-induced delusion or iteration anomaly?"

"Very real."

"Good. Because if I wake up and this was another dream I’m going to be extremely upset."

"Not a dream. We’re just both terrible at taking things slow."

"I can live with that." She kissed him again, longer this time. "Though Seria and Elara are going to have opinions about how fast this is moving."

"They always have opinions. We’ll deal with it."

"Together?"

"Obviously together. That’s how this works."

Lyristae smiled – genuine, unguarded, the expression of someone who’d waited far too long for something and finally had it.

"Okay," she said. "Together. I can do together."

They walked back to the palace hand in hand, both covered in roof dust and wearing cheap market jewelry and completely unconcerned with how they looked.

Because some things mattered more than appearances.

Like spontaneous rooftop chases and street performances and the moment someone realized they’d fallen in love somewhere between fried pastry and sunset.

It wasn’t strategic. Wasn’t optimal. Wasn’t following anyone’s careful timeline.

But it felt real.

And that was enough.