Misunderstood Villain Heroines Mourn My Death Chapter 424

[ … words ]

***

{Outside The Projection}

The moment Scheherazade and Malik spoke Noor’s truth aloud, the world felt a tad heavier.

People stood rooted where they were, eyes fixed on the shifting light of the projection. A secret so massive landing casually like that did their head in, almost making them go delirious.

Even before Malik’s and Sinbad’s suspicion, they’d always wondered about Noor.

Her rise was way too quick; her rivals seemed to stumble without her lifting a finger, while she surpassed them all by pulling in favors with incredibly rare items and Holy Relics unseen for centuries.

Now it all made sense.

She, who was not of Fam Iblis, held a soul capable of being Blessed before acquiring any Godhood. A Blessing that somehow allowed her to make something tangible out of nothing but Aether, shaping the world before even learning its shape, while also increasing her talent to insane heights.

She was a cheat.

Most of those in the hall had thought this one thing.

Yet, surprisingly, the reveal that led to this thought didn’t seem to bother the one it was directed towards.

Noor had long since believed that Malik and Sinbad had figured it out…

That was expected, but now to find out that Dunya did, too?

By Scheherazade, no less?

Yes, it was surprising, but that was it.

Honestly, at that point, Noor didn’t care for it.

She, like the now dead Roya, had given up.

This was way, way, way, way, way, way, way beyond a lost cause.

Again, Noor’s obsession with Malik stemmed from the confidence she had in herself. Thanks to her Blessing, she saw herself as perfect, or at least as close as one could be, and getting beaten repeatedly, naturally, forced incredible levels of respect for Malik, as well as hatred.

The same happened with the True Sultan, and now it did once more with Scheherazade.

She so easily knew of her secret, talking about her as if she were an ant.

Yeah, Noor had given up.

Her honor, her pride, her everything can go to Hell.

This truly was a failure.

Not privy to her thoughts, those she deemed inferior all began to look at her with surprise more than shock, thinking that her relaxed posture meant that she saw no issue with her rise.

They, of course, didn’t yet know that it was a… ’system;’ they wouldn’t understand the concept, but that didn’t matter. It was a Blessing that boosted her, not her own efforts.

Yeah, sure, she probably put in a lot of work, but…

Knowing the existence of this ’cheat’ changed everything.

Even her own guards looked at her differently.

Scheherazade might not have killed her, but arguably, or at least in Noor’s beyond twisted view, this was way worse, ending both her social and political life.

And it wasn’t even built up like Roya’s was… it was like she was a footnote in someone’s letter, barely remembered, only to be tacked on at the end to complete some arbitrary checklist.

Without so much as a word, she glanced at Huda, who didn’t care enough to look at her, as well as Layla, who was much the same, still staring at the projection, and Azeem, the only one of the three who stared at her, though, unlike the rest, it wasn’t shock he showed but bold amusement, a crooked smile that was equal parts antagonistic and cheeky.

Cursing under her breath, Noor then finally looked at Malik.

Her Sultan, a man chained by his own design.

The man who’d forever trap her in his cage.

“…Goodbye.”

She disappeared.

***

{Inside The Projection}

The throne’s legs scraped against the floor as Malik stood.

His eyes moved across the room, not lingering on any of them.

“Leave.”

None moved for a long heartbeat until Azeem simply closed the scroll in his hands. Sinbad, without a word, waddled closer to Malik and hopped to Dunya’s shoulder, resting a wing lightly on her head.

She gave him a look of gratitude, and the three of them filed out, the heavy door closing with a muffled thud.

With them gone, the room felt larger… somehow more tense.

Malik turned to face Scheherazade fully for the first time since she’d appeared.

“What do you want?”

The teasing curve of her lips faded.

A different smile replaced it—smaller, almost sincere, as though she’d been waiting for him to ask exactly that.

“Do you know how long I’ve lived, Malik?”

He shook his head.

“That’s good…”

Her smile widened slightly.

“But know that it’s a lot.”

“…So?”

Her laugh was soft, amused at how little his curiosity seemed to be moved.

“What I’m saying is… I’ve seen many Sultans go to Hell. None of them came back, well, none except that crimson bastard.”

Her gaze drifted somewhere past him, a recollection of memories.

“I almost believed Cyrus had done it when he returned. But those cursed Zaqqums remained.”

Malik felt the question forming in his mind—how could she see them?—but left it there. Questions often came with prices, and he knew full well how much that applied to a person like her.

“And thank you for that.”

She added, as though hearing the words he hadn’t spoken.

He didn’t flinch at the intrusion and just gave the smallest nod, an unspoken prompt for her to go on.

“You’ve done what was impossible for so long… but Corruption still lives. Your actions reveal that. Those three towns you burned? Proof enough. You don’t have the luxury the others did. No timer to hold the decay back; once one happens, all do at once.”

Malik nodded again.

“…The True Zaqqum is an impossibility.”

Her eyes sharpened, detecting something from his tone.

“I can’t believe it… You think you failed?”

Malik answered almost immediately:

“Yes.”

Scheherazade stared at him as though he’d said the most absurd thing she’d ever heard in centuries of absurdity, which, honestly, he might as well have.

“YOU failed? What in the world twisted your self-worth so far out of shape?”

The question wasn’t meant for answering; she knew better than to expect that, and her sigh made that clear.

“Still… I see it. Only the eyes remain, no new ones… but the old ones still watch. They still promise an ending where no one escapes. I won’t ask how you know the moment they’ll Fall, but tell me—”

Her body leaned forward.

“You have a plan, don’t you?”

Malik looked at her for a long, steady moment, then nodded.

Her smile bloomed again, brighter now, as though she’d been handed a long-lost hope.

She was striking, dangerously so—but to him, she was no more compelling than the cold stone beneath his feet.

He was about to tell her to leave when the room suddenly shifted.

One moment, they were in a council chamber; the next, the Sultan’s Hall.

The Golden Throne sat directly beside them.

Scheherazade gestured for him to sit.

He did, and she slowly descended the steps until she stood at the base of the throne.

Once there, she turned around and…

“My Lord.”

Knelt.

“Please allow me to be your subject.”

Malik’s brow rose slightly.

“Do your words hold weight for the entire West?”

She nodded.

“When the day comes, we will aid you. I only hope your Silent Requiem succeeds.”

So she knew… Or at least, she’d guessed his plan completely.

“You may rise, my subject.”

“Thank you, my Lord.”

With that, her form shimmered, edges breaking apart like smoke, and she was gone.

“I will see you soon.”

As her final words echoed for a few seconds, Malik remained alone on the Golden Throne; the vast hall before him turning silent as could be.

He leaned his head against his fist, eyes tracing the emptiness.

Seconds passed, or minutes… or hours.

It was cold up here.

So very cold.