The Villains Must Win

Chapter 368: Alistair Cain 28

Cassian—second male lead, noble ally, charming and cold in equal measure—there was no guarantee he would remain on the side of light either.

In stories like this, men with white-bluish hair and crimson eyes and quiet smiles were rarely content to play supporting roles forever.

And this was an S-rank world.

Unstable. Unpredictable. Brutal.

In such a world, loyalties fractured, love turned lethal, and heroes could become monsters overnight.

Anything could happen.

Selene could get killed at any moment.

Cassian regarded Yuki one moment longer before following.

Selene released a slow breath and ducked lower behind the hedge, heart thudding faintly.

He did not see me.

He couldn’t have.

Still...

She remained still until the sound of their footsteps receded.

Only then did she rise slightly, preparing to peek through the leaves.

And froze.

A presence loomed behind her.

Close.

Far too close.

"What are you doing?"

The voice was low.

Bored.

Utterly devoid of warmth.

Selene did not need to turn to recognize it.

Alistair.

Cold air brushed against the back of her neck. Not from wind.

From him.

Her spine stiffened slowly, as though any sudden movement might be mistaken for guilt.

Which, admittedly, she possessed.

She turned her head just enough to glance over her shoulder.

He stood barely a step behind her.

Amber eyes.

Expression unreadable.

Moonlight threaded through his dark hair, sharpening the angles of his face into something almost sculpted. Beautiful in the way a blade was beautiful.

"M-my Lord. Funny meeting you here," Selene said smoothly, rising to her full height and brushing a stray leaf from her sleeve as though she had not been crouched like a spying child moments earlier.

Alistair’s gaze dropped briefly to the hedge.

Then to her.

"I go to this school, remember? I should be the one to ask you that. And you didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?"

His tone remained level. Not accusing. Not curious.

Simply waiting.

Selene tilted her head, allowing a faint smile to touch her lips.

"I was enjoying the garden," she replied. "I thought that I was allowed here, hoping to get a glimpse of you my lord."

His eyes held hers for a long moment.

Too long.

She resisted the urge to fidget.

There was something about Alistair’s stare—something that made one feel dissected. As though he did not merely look at you, but through you. Measuring. Calculating.

"You were eavesdropping," he corrected.

Not a question.

A verdict.

The night air hung thick with the perfume of crimson roses climbing the iron trellises. Pale moonlight pooled across the marble path, catching in Selene’s hair as she slowly lifted her gaze to him.

Her smile did not falter.

"I would not dare, my lord," she replied, voice soft as velvet drawn across skin. "I found myself wandering toward the garden. The roses were... irresistible."

A faint breeze stirred the hem of her dress. The petals trembled.

"You disapprove?" she added lightly, though her eyes studied him with far more calculation than her tone suggested.

Alistair’s gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly. Those amber eyes—cold as obsidian and twice as cutting—held her in place. For a fleeting moment, the world seemed to narrow to the space between them.

"Be that as it may," he said at last, his voice low and restrained, "we should return before you attract trouble."

Trouble.

The word carried weight.

Selene tilted her head, almost amused.

Before she could answer, a new presence descended upon them—swift and silent as a shadow slipping between candles.

"Oh?" a voice drawled. "And who might this be?"

Cassian appeared at Alistair’s side within seconds, as though conjured from the darkness itself. His single crimson eye gleamed beneath the lantern glow, scanning Selene from head to toe with open, unapologetic interest.

Selene resisted the urge to stare back.

He was devastatingly handsome—sharp jaw, aristocratic nose, lips curved in perpetual amusement. There was something predatory in his elegance, something that spoke of danger disguised as charm.

She had encountered countless beautiful men in the games she once played, princes and villains sculpted to perfection—but this was different.

This was real. A real vampire aristocrat!

She bowed deeply and executed a flawless curtsy.

"Greetings, my lord. My name is Selene. I am Lord Alistair’s slave."

"Human Blood bank," Alistair corrected smoothly.

Selene’s smile did not change, though inwardly she smirked.

Ah. So that was the title he preferred now. She concluded that he really cared about her now. Even if a little.

"I see," Cassian replied, unbothered. It was hardly rare for noble lords to maintain a personal blood bank. In fact, he himself possessed several. Humans were currency in their world—ornamental, necessary, and disposable.

Yet something about this human intrigued him.

What unsettled him was not her beauty—though she was indeed beautiful, luminous in a way that seemed almost intentional—but the subtle shift in Alistair’s expression.

For a heartbeat, Alistair’s glacial composure had softened.

Not by much.

But enough.

And that protective edge in his voice—

Curious.

Cassian stepped closer, studying her more carefully. She was no longer pure; the faint scent that once marked untouched innocence had long faded. That detail alone made the situation more interesting.

"My name is Cassian," he said, lowering his tone just slightly. "A pleasure, Selene."

He reached for her hand.

He did not get the chance.

Alistair moved before the motion could complete. In a single fluid step, he was already beside Selene, fingers closing around her wrist—not painfully, but firmly enough to leave no room for misunderstanding.

"Let us go," Alistair said coolly. "There is no purpose in lingering."

Selene barely had time to glance back before she was pulled away along the stone path, the scent of roses fading behind them.

Cassian remained where he stood.

He watched their retreating figures with quiet amusement, though his face betrayed nothing.

Interesting indeed.

Alistair did not slow his pace until the manor gates loomed before them.

Only then did he release her.

"You are reckless," he muttered under his breath.