Kael Vaelthorn was having what could generously be described as an "identity crisis."
It had been three days since he overheard a group of second-years whispering that he was "definitely the villain" of this year's Academy arc.
To Kael, this was a deeply inconvenient misunderstanding.
He wasn't plotting anything. He didn't have any grand evil ambitions. All he ever wanted was to nap in peace, eat on time, and maybe avoid overly dramatic people who threw fireballs during group projects.
But thanks to a few "misunderstood duels," his natural deadpan expression, and a persistent refusal to explain himself, rumors had begun to swirl.
Now, people bowed nervously when he passed. Students whispered when he so much as stretched. One first-year even dropped her textbook and called it an offering.
Kael sighed as he looked at himself in the mirror of Dorm Block Alpha. Dark uniform. Cold eyes. Mysterious aura.
"…Damn it," he muttered. "I do look like a villain."
And so, Kael made a decision that was both logical and entirely ridiculous:
He was going to practice being a villain.
That way, if people already thought he was one… he might as well get good at it.
---
Step One: The Cloak
Kael raided the Academy's drama department and borrowed the most unnecessarily long, dark cloak he could find. It trailed behind him like a shadow and flared dramatically whenever he turned. It was also entirely impractical for walking up stairs.
He tripped three times before lunch.
---
Step Two: The Monologue
He found a quiet part of the training field and began practicing lines.
Kael stood atop a small hill, wind blowing his hair slightly, voice deep and slow.
"You dare challenge me? Fools. My plans were already set into motion before you even took your first breath of—"
"Kael?"
He turned and froze.
Elira stood behind him. Her royal robe was draped casually over one shoulder, and her expression was unreadable.
"...Are you rehearsing?" she asked.
Kael blinked. "No. I'm… lamenting. Like villains do."
"You're talking to a bush."
"It's a very sinister bush."
There was a long silence.
Elira rubbed her temples. "This is the third time I've caught you doing something strange this week. First the fog machine under your desk, then the creepy laughter in the library, and now... this."
Kael folded his arms under the cloak. "I'm... researching my character."
"Character?"
He sighed. "Everyone thinks I'm the villain. So I figured I might as well train as one."
Elira looked at him. Blinked once. Then started laughing.
Not polite noble laughter, but the type that made her double over, clutching her stomach.
Kael frowned. "I'm serious."
"That's the problem!" she giggled. "You're trying to be a villain, but you look like a tired cat playing dress-up!"
---
Step Three: A Minion
Kael needed a sidekick. All good villains had one.
Enter Prince Cedric, Elira's younger brother and part-time chaos enthusiast.
Cedric had overheard Kael muttering to himself while plotting how to "open a secret underground lair using the Academy's laundry chute."
Naturally, Cedric found this hilarious and immediately pledged himself as Kael's first minion.
"I shall be Sir C. of the Shadows!" Cedric announced, wearing a potato sack over his head and carrying a wooden spoon like a wand.
"Please stop talking," Kael groaned.
But Cedric didn't stop. In fact, Cedric drew up a full villain manifesto—complete with color-coded nap schedules, dramatic lighting suggestions, and a theme song made of kazoo solos.
Kael buried his face in his hands.
---
Step Four: The Poetry Duel (Accidental)
The week's elective class was "Creative Combat Expression: Words as Weapons."
Kael, unfortunately, forgot to skip it.
When the instructor—a woman who insisted on being called Mistress of Metaphor—called him up for a "duel of passionate poetry," Kael tried to escape.
He failed.
His opponent?
Lucien Drevarn.
Again.
Lucien stood with the poise of a noble peacock and began with flourish:
"A shadow walks where light dares tread,
His name a curse, his eyes bring dread…"
The class oohed.
Lucien smirked.
Kael scratched his head, walked up, and muttered:
"Roses are red.
I need some rest.
Why are we fighting?
Is this a test?"
Silence.
Then—
Thunderous applause.
Apparently, his deadpan delivery and total disregard for poetic tradition was seen as a genius satire of noble dramatics.
Mistress of Metaphor wept with joy. Cedric fell over laughing. Elira sighed into her book.
Lucien stormed out mid-stanza.
---
Later That Evening
Kael sat atop the library's roof, enjoying the wind. His cloak flapped dramatically—finally proving useful.
Elira appeared beside him, holding two tea cups.
"One for the misunderstood villain," she said, handing him a cup, "and one for the audience who didn't sign up for this play."
Kael raised a brow. "Tea? No poisoned chalice? No tragic backstory tonight?"
She smirked. "Nope. Just mint tea."
He sipped.
It was hot. Very hot.
He hissed and nearly dropped it.
"Ah, yes," Elira said dryly. "The villain's weakness. Lukewarm beverage."
Kael muttered, "I'll destroy whoever brewed this."
She chuckled. "See? You're halfway there."
---
Meanwhile…
In a shadowy corner of the Academy's ancient vaults, seven masked figures studied an ancient scroll bearing Kael's name.
"The One moves strangely," said the tallest.
"He writes haiku in battle," murmured another.
"...He has a sidekick named Spoon Lord."
They stared at each other.
"...He's perfect," the leader said.
The others nodded.
---
End of Chapter 26