The Villains Must Win-Chapter 352: Alistair Cain 12

The dormitory assigned to Alistair Cain was grand enough to suit a noble lord from any age—ancient or modern.

It stood apart from the other residential wings, perched along a raised terrace overlooking the lower courtyards of the academy.

Pale stone walls were carved with subtle sigils that shimmered faintly under the perpetual twilight sky, and tall arched windows allowed filtered light to spill across polished floors.

The structure was neither ostentatious nor modest; it carried the quiet authority of someone who did not need to prove his status.

Inside, the space was expansive.

Two private rooms had been prepared—one for Caroline, one for Selene—each furnished with a bed large enough to swallow a human whole, wardrobes crafted from darkwood, and desks inlaid with faintly glowing runes.

At the heart of the dormitory lay the master bedroom, unmistakably Alistair’s, separated by heavy double doors and protected by layered wards that hummed softly with restrained power.

After they finished organizing their belongings, Alistair settled onto the couch in the common area. He leaned back, one arm draped across the cushions, and closed his eyes as if the weight of the academy itself had finally pressed down on him.

"You two may do as you please today," he said calmly, his voice low and unhurried. "Just don’t wander too far. Stay in the lighted areas. And do try not to cause trouble for me."

Selene noted that he did not bother opening his eyes when he spoke. The confidence of someone who knew the world would bend around him regardless.

"I will stay here with you, my lord," Caroline replied immediately, her voice soft and reverent. "Being by your side is joy enough for me."

Selene’s mouth twitched.

What a pretentious, boot-licking bitch.

She kept the thought to herself, though her eyes flicked briefly toward Caroline. The woman’s posture was perfect, her expression serene, devotion practically dripping from her every word.

If Caroline sensed Selene’s irritation, she gave no sign of it.

The feeling was mutual enough.

Since Caroline clearly had no intention of leaving Alistair’s side—and since Selene had no intention of suffocating in the same room as her—she didn’t bother pretending.

"Well then, my lord," Selene said lightly, already turning toward the door. "I’ll go out and check the perimeter. Familiarize myself with the academy grounds. I’ll be back before nightfall."

Before either of them could respond, she slipped out the door.

The corridor swallowed her footsteps.

Once outside, Selene exhaled slowly and let her shoulders relax.

The academy unfolded before her like a living thing—paths stretching and curving through courtyards, students drifting past in clusters, the hum of magic threaded through the air like an unseen current.

She moved carefully, instinctively minimizing her presence.

Invisible as much as possible.

She was still human. Still fragile. Still very much a meal in a place like this.

The realization never left her mind, even as wonder crept in.

The academy was magnificent. Towers loomed overhead, their spires disappearing into the violet haze of the sky. Enchanted lamps cast pools of silver-gold light along stone walkways.

The scent of old magic and fresh parchment mingled with something darker—blood, incense, night-blooming flowers.

Selene wandered until her feet ached and her senses dulled from overstimulation.

By afternoon, exhaustion caught up with her, and she settled beside a marble fountain in one of the inner courtyards. Water flowed in slow, deliberate arcs, glowing faintly as it fell back into the basin.

She rested there, letting time slip through her fingers.

That was when the disturbance caught her attention.

Voices rose nearby—sharp, hostile, unmistakably aggressive.

Selene turned her head and saw a small crowd gathered not far from the fountain. At the center stood a woman with white hair that gleamed like freshly fallen snow. Her beauty was startling in a way that felt almost unreal—delicate features, pale skin, eyes like frozen glass reflecting light too clearly.

Her aura was dense. Refined. Powerful in a way that suggested discipline rather than brute force.

Oh.

Selene felt the familiar pull of the narrative tightening around her.

A notification chimed softly in her awareness—subtle, almost polite.

Plot Advancement Detected.

She didn’t need to read further to understand.

That woman was the main female lead.

Her name surfaced naturally in Selene’s mind as the system clarified its role.

Yuki Snow.

An unshifted werewolf with rare arcane aptitude in the healing arts.

And right now, she was being harassed by a group of women.

Their words were sharp, venomous, circling Yuki like blades.

Selene didn’t bother listening closely. She’d seen this scene too many times across too many games to need the details.

An unshifted werewolf. Ridiculed. Pushed around.

She already knew how this story would go.

Yuki would endure it quietly—too kind, too gentle, too unwilling to escalate. Eventually, she would awaken her wolf, become absurdly powerful, and draw the attention of every male lead within a fifty-mile radius.

A reverse harem waiting to happen.

Selene sighed inwardly.

Unshifted werewolf becomes the strongest once she finds her wolf... then collects admirers from every dominant race...

Predictable. Exhausting.

She had no interest in interfering. No desire to inherit the side character of the female lead in a story like this.

She was about to turn away when the air shifted.

"Get away from her!"

The voice thundered across the courtyard.

A tall man strode forward, broad-shouldered and imposing, his presence alone enough to make the vampire women recoil. His hair was a vivid red, his expression fierce, protective, unmistakably alpha.

Another notification chimed.

Roger Bloodhowl.

Heir apparent to the Bloodhowl Pack. Yuki Snow’s childhood friend.

Selene watched with mild interest as the scene unfolded.

Roger positioned himself between Yuki and her tormentors without hesitation.

The vampire women hissed, muttered curses, then scattered under the weight of his dominance.

Yuki tried to apologize, her hands twisting nervously at her sides, clearly unwilling to drag him into her problems.

Selene didn’t miss the way Roger’s gaze softened whenever it landed on Yuki.

Ah. Of course.

He loved her.

But she was unshifted. And he was engaged—to a powerful she-wolf from another clan. Politics. Tradition. Obligation.

Meaning no destined mate bond would tie Yuki down.

Which meant—

A full reverse harem ending.

Selene’s lips curved into a faint smirk.

"So that’s how it is," she murmured.

Classic.

Still, this was an S-rank world. Nothing ever played out exactly as expected.

Not when Roger Bloodhowl’s eyes were amber. An unmistakable trait for the villain.

She was turning away when a voice spoke beside her—too close.

"Hello there, little kitten. Are you lost?"