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Let Me Be Your Villian

Luna_script
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
Amara died broken.... Not in glory, not in light But in pain, betrayal, and the sick laughter of a man who took everything from her. She was nothing. A poor girl scraping through life, protecting a little brother in a world that spat on orphans. She begged, she bled, she endured until the world ripped even that away. Her final breath was taken in the hands of a monster. Then came the void. A god found her there. Cold. Cruel. Unapologetic. He didn’t offer comfort. He offered purpose. " You broken soul we can't let you go to waste can we " Now reborn as Selene Virell, she’s tasked with infiltrating the most elite academy in Aetherra—a land ruled by nobles and elements, torn apart by gates, monsters, and an ancient seal on the brink of shattering. Her mission? Find the Chosen One… and end him. Because Selene isn’t the hero of this story. She isn’t here to save the world. She’s here to ruin it. But fate isn’t a straight path—and the boy she must destroy carries more sorrow than she expected. And behind his smile hides something eerily familiar… something broken. In a world where monsters wear crowns and gods play favorites, what happens when the villain starts to fall and hard .
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Chapter 1 - Chapter 1: Broken

The day started the same way they all did tired eyes, sore feet, and silence that clung to the walls like mold. Amara woke up before the sun, as always, buried under the thin weight of a donated blanket that barely kept the cold out. The apartment was barely that a single room with peeling wallpaper, no fridge, and a ceiling that leaked when it rained. The electricity had been out for a week.

She sat up slowly, not because she was lazy, but because the pain in her back screamed when she moved too fast. Her body ached from bending over too many mop buckets and carrying too many trays for customers who never tipped and barely looked her in the eye.

On the far side of the room, curled up on an old mattress laid on the floor, her brother slept. Ugo. Seven years old. Small for his age. His cheeks were hollowing again.

Amara rubbed her arms, trying to summon some warmth, and stood. She crossed to Ugo's side, crouched, and gently shook him.

"Up, little man. We've got school today."

Ugo blinked, then gave her a sleepy smile. "Do I get bread today?"

She forced a grin. "You get two slices. Don't tell anyone, or they'll be jealous."

He giggled. Amara stood up and moved to their tiny table—the only table. She pulled out the last few slices from the bag, noticed the beginnings of mold on the corners, and quietly tore those parts off.

Two slices for him. One for her. None tomorrow.

Amara worked two jobs ,three if she could get called in for late-night shifts. Morning cleaning for an office that refused to pay overtime, afternoons at a fast-food place where she washed dishes while the manager stared too long. And still, every day, she walked to Ugo's school to pick him up. Rain or shine. He waited for her like clockwork. It was their ritual.

She had promised.

After their parents died ;after that stupid, stupid fight that ended in slammed doors and unanswered calls , she swore she'd protect him. No matter what.

She couldn't afford to cry anymore. It took too much energy.

That afternoon, the clouds had been hanging low, thick and gray like they wanted to fall but hadn't decided how. Amara arrived at the school gates just as the final bell rang. She waited. Her bag slung over one shoulder, clothes damp from the light drizzle that had started.

Kids poured out of the building. Laughing. Shouting. Free.

But not Ugo.

Amara's brows furrowed. She stepped closer to the gate. Then she saw him.

He was crying.

Surrounded by two adults in formal wear one man, one woman both stiff and expressionless. The woman bent down, trying to offer Ugo tissues, but he only clutched his bag tighter and sobbed louder.

Panic lanced through Amara's chest. She ran.

"What's going on?" she snapped.

The man stepped in front of her, calm and annoyingly firm. "You must be Amara. I'm Mr. Chuks. California Social Welfare Department. We've received several reports about Ugo's condition."

Her stomach dropped.

"What?"

"Malnourishment. Poor hygiene. Possible neglect. Abuse."

"Are you insane? I take care of him. "

Ugo reached for her. "Amara, please ; I didn't mean to , I was just hungry Amara and they said you could come " he sobbed more.

The woman gently pulled him back. "We've already begun the process. There will be a hearing. For now, he's being placed into temporary custody."

"No," Amara whispered. "No, you can't."

But they could.

Ugo screamed when they dragged him to the car. Screamed until his voice broke.

Amara stood frozen, raindrops mixing with the hot tears she didn't realize were falling. Her hands trembled. Her knees nearly gave out. The only reason she kept standing was because if she fell, she didn't know if she'd ever get back up.

Ugo's small hands reached out of the car window. He screamed her name as it pulled away.

Then there was silence.

***

She didn't remember walking. One street became another. The clouds cracked and the sky gave in. The rain fell in thick sheets, soaking through her hoodie, her shirt, her skin. She welcomed it. It washed away the dirt. It couldn't touch the hollow ache inside.

She walked with her arms wrapped around herself, ignoring the stares, the cars honking, the world moving on like nothing had happened.

She didn't care.

She stopped on a bridge at some point. Watched the water churn beneath her. Wondered if she'd feel anything if she just stepped off. Maybe not.

A car slowed beside her.

She didn't look.

"Miss?"

Still, she didn't turn.

"You okay? It's raining hard. Want a lift?"

She finally glanced over.

The man smiled. His eyes were warm. Too warm. Kind. Familiar.

Something in her wanted to believe him.

So she got in.