The Villains Must Win-Chapter 353: Alistair Cain 13

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

Selene stiffened.

She turned her head and found herself face-to-face with another man—tall, elegant, undeniably dangerous in a different way.

Long green hair spilled down his back, his skin pale and flawless, his eyes curved into crescent moons that did not reach the depths beneath.

He was smiling.

And she knew, instantly, that he could not be trusted.

Another notification chimed.

Joker.

Fae. Prankster. Trickster.

The plot advanced again, though only slightly.

Progress was progress.

"Do I look like I’m lost?" Selene replied coolly.

Joker laughed softly, the sound light and musical. "Ah, forgive me. It’s just... rare to see a human with beauty like yours wandering alone at dusk. Are you a student here?"

Selene shook her head. She had no intention of letting this escalate.

"I’m a human blood bank," she said plainly. "For Lord Alistair Cain."

She watched his reaction carefully.

She expected him to retreat. To withdraw the moment he heard Alistair’s name.

Instead... his smile widened.

His eyes gleamed brighter.

Well . . . that was a mistake.

"Well," Joker murmured, clearly amused, "that makes things even more interesting."

Selene frowned inwardly.

Why does it feel like that only encouraged him?

The realization settled uncomfortably in her chest.

Knowing that she belonged to Alistair Cain hadn’t deterred him.

If anything... it seemed to have edged him on.

Joker tilted his head, studying Selene as though she were a puzzle laid out purely for his amusement.

"Interesting," he repeated, the word drawn out, savored. "You say that so calmly. Most humans tremble when they speak a lord’s name—especially that one."

Selene kept her expression neutral. Inside, she was already calculating distances, escape routes, lighted paths. The fae were never bound by the same rules as vampires or werewolves. They played with laws the way children played with knives.

"Then you must be familiar with him," she said evenly.

"Oh, very." Joker clasped his hands behind his back and began to circle her, his steps soundless against the stone. "Alistair Cain. A noble lord from an old lineage, carrying a scent of blood and ruin that lingers long after he leaves a room. The kind of man others orbit whether they wish to or not."

Selene felt his gaze slide over her skin like silk hiding barbs.

"And you," he continued lightly, "are his blood bank. Walking freely. Unleashed."

"I have permission," Selene replied. "Which means I am not prey."

Joker stopped in front of her.

"Oh, kitten," he said softly, "everyone is prey to someone."

Before Selene could respond, the air around them shifted—subtle, but unmistakable. The light from the enchanted lamps flickered, shadows stretching unnaturally along the courtyard walls. Joker’s smile sharpened, sensing it too.

Across the courtyard, Yuki Snow had finally managed to disentangle herself from Roger Bloodhowl’s protective stance.

She bowed slightly, murmuring words Selene couldn’t hear, and then hurried away, her white hair disappearing into the crowd.

Roger watched her go with a conflicted expression before turning back toward the dispersing onlookers.

The plot threads tugged again.

Selene ignored them.

Her attention was entirely on the fae before her.

"You’re tense," Joker observed. "Relax. I’m not going to eat you."

"That’s not comforting," Selene said dryly.

He laughed, genuinely amused this time. "Fair enough."

A pause stretched between them—not awkward, but coiled. Selene felt the academy watching. Magic here had awareness. It responded to intent, to imbalance.

"Why are you really talking to me?" she asked at last.

Joker’s expression shifted—not much, just enough. The playful mask didn’t fall, but something sharper glimmered beneath it.

"Well, this is the first time he’d brought a human along," Joker said lightly, as if discussing nothing more than an amusing novelty. "Naturally, I grew curious."

Selene chuckled, unbothered. "Two of us, actually. There’s another like me staying with Lord Alistair."

That genuinely surprised him.

"Really?" His brows lifted, eyes sharpening with interest. "It seems the vampire lord is... insatiable. I never pegged him to be so indulgent with his hunger."

Selene merely licked her lips, her smile slow. "My lord is a vampire. Blood is how his kind functions. Or are you implying he shouldn’t eat at all?"

"My, of course not." Joker laughed softly, waving the notion away. "It’s just that no human ever lasts long enough for him to bring one into the academy as his blood bank."

Selene beamed, pride flickering through her gaze. "Then I suppose I’ll be the first."

The deep toll of a bell rolled through the academy, vibrating through stone and spell alike, cutting their exchange short.

"Oh my," Joker mused pleasantly. "Curfew already."

He turned, hands tucked lazily into his sleeves, eyes curving into crescent moons once more. "Don’t stay out too late. Once the clock strikes six, everyone, students or not, should be back in their dormitories. Don’t wander after dark, little kitten." His voice dipped, playful but edged with warning. "A great many creatures go missing at night."

And with that, he walked away.

Selene watched his retreating figure for a moment before exhaling.

"What a strange man," she murmured.

Then again, this was an S-rank world. The fact that he had received special designation from the plot all but confirmed it—Joker was a key character.

"Not even a full day here, and I’ve already advanced the plot by more than twenty percent," Selene muttered, satisfaction warming her chest.

It meant she had crossed the first threshold.

Unlike the others. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

She didn’t know what had happened to those who came before her—or why they had died before reaching this point—but Selene was not the type to dwell on unanswered graves. Survival required forward motion.

With that thought, she turned back toward the dormitory.

She wasn’t surprised to find Caroline already there—nor was she surprised by what she witnessed.

Caroline was kneeling, posture perfect even in submission, devotion etched into every line of her form. A thin collar gleamed faintly at her throat.

Alistair sat like a king on his throne before her, fully clothed, composed, his expression unreadable as he held the instrument of discipline with practiced ease.

The air was heavy—not with lust, but with control.

Selene paused only a moment.

She did not interrupt.

Alistair loathed being disturbed in the middle of such moments.

Silently, she withdrew and retreated to her own room, closing the door behind her without a sound.

For once, she chose rest over rivalry.

She undressed, extinguished the lights, and slipped beneath the covers, letting the academy’s distant hum lull her into stillness.