After the Cannon-Fodder Villain Faked His Death - Chapter 2

I barely glanced at the comments. The moment I saw the swordsman write to Wu Si, I began clearing my desk and packing to run.

“You’re going to flee?” the system asked. “If the story isn’t exciting enough, it could undermine the hero’s triumphant ending.”

My eyes curved in a smile, though my voice remained cool. “And what does that have to do with me?”

“But don’t you love him?”

My hands stopped. My expression chilled.

“That’s how your character is written,” the system continued. “You fell in love with him at first sight, stole credit for saving him so you could make him your slave, then beat him at will when you failed to force him to return your feelings.”

The account was so far removed from the truth that it actually calmed me. I exhaled softly, then frowned in confusion. “What rescue…?”

Bang—

Before I could finish, someone struck the wooden door with a heavy fist.

My heart lurched, then immediately settled.

The swordsman had seen me three days ago. Allowing time for his letter to arrive, Wu Si could not possibly reach me for another three days.

The system was still trying to persuade me as I rose to open the door.

Creak—

When the door swung open, I was still mildly irritated by the system’s nagging. A weighty shadow fell over me. I looked up with a frown—and froze when I saw who stood there.

The system shrieked inside my head, [AAAAAH, IT’S THE MALE LEAD—]

Its question—*Don’t you love him?*—seemed to echo in my ears.

I looked at him. His hair was a mess, his clothes were caked with dust, and his ears and tail drooped. His face was hidden in shadow; only the violent rise and fall of his chest betrayed him.

He looked terrible.

“Wu Si.”

I spoke his name softly.

His tall frame gave an almost imperceptible shudder. He stared at me as if emotion had seized his heart in a fist, as if a thousand words had surged into his throat at once.

He wanted to say, *You’re alive.* He wanted to say, *You didn’t die.* In the end, he merely braced his forehead against the doorframe, bent over, and laughed hoarsely.

“I hate you.”

[Of every living being in the world, he hates you the most.]

The system’s mechanical voice echoed in my ears.

His hatred did not surprise me. I might never have tried to force myself on him the way the system claimed, but I had beaten and humiliated him on a whim. That much was undeniable.

“Aren’t you going to kill me?” I blinked. When Wu Si only glared at me, I offered the question myself.

His pupils contracted. He reached for me as if he meant to crush my throat, but stopped halfway. As though afraid I might break beneath his touch, he wrenched his hand aside and gripped the edge of the wooden door instead.

“I just don’t want you to die that easily,” he said through clenched teeth.

I laughed softly. “I thought you might want to hear me beg.”

Wu Si bent closer, his expression cold and his stare unwavering. “Would you?”

I raised a hand. The arrays surrounding the cabin flared to life, condensing offensive magic into hundreds upon hundreds of blades and icicles. They hurtled toward him—and shattered into dust before they came close.

My answer plainly enraged him. Wu Si seized my shoulder, shoved me back into the cabin, and forced his way into a room that had offered him no welcome.