Ascension Of The Villain

"Julia, seriously, you don't have to feed me," Vyan muttered, voice strained not from pain, but from simmering embarrassment. He glanced away, ears pink, cheeks slightly flushed.

His pride had taken enough bruises already in the last few hours—first getting comforted by a five-year-old, and now, being spoon-fed soup like a fragile old man on death's door.

Maybe the main reason he ended up on Earth was just to be humbled, so that he shouldn't be too prideful and think of himself as invincible. Well, lesson fucking learned.

"I'm perfectly capable of—" he tried to add, weakly reaching for the spoon, only for Julia to give him a firm, unimpressed glare that made him retract his hand like a scolded child.

"You hush," she said, in the kind of tone that only women who've raised both children and grown men could master. She tucked a pillow behind his back, carefully lifted another spoonful of broth, and brought it to his lips like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He sighed in defeat, allowing the spoon to pass his lips. Honestly, being fed wasn't so bad. Still, the whole situation made his chest ache—not from injury, but from how absurdly small and helpless he felt. He was learning to accept help without too much objection, but even so… it didn't feel right.

"I'm not a child," he mumbled as she prepared another spoonful.

Julia gave a small laugh. "I know you're not. You're a stubborn boy who is starved of love, and I feed people who need love."

"I'm not starved of love," he argued quietly, almost indignantly. "I'm perfectly loved."

Julia paused mid-motion, giving him a long look. "Are you?" she asked gently, but not without an edge. "Because, from where I'm standing… not one of your family members came to see you. Not even your girlfriend."

He didn't deny it. He simply lowered his gaze, staring at the pale hospital blanket over his lap. The beeping of the heart monitor sounded loud, but his thoughts were louder.

"You said you had a girlfriend," Julia continued, a little quieter now, more curious than confrontational. "That you loved her a lot. But she didn't come. Not even once, in the last two and a half months. What kind of girlfriend does that? Is she even real?"

He tried to laugh, but it came out more like a puff of breath, rueful and weak. "I… I don't think she knows I got hurt," he said, almost to himself, the words laced with longing he couldn't suppress.

Julia scoffed softly, shaking her head as she brought another spoonful to his lips. She could tell that Vyan clearly wanted to be taken care of by his girlfriend. Maybe he wouldn't have objected once if she had been the one to try and feed him. Maybe that girl was the only one with whom he could let himself be vulnerable without feeling ashamed or small. Too bad it didn't seem like she knew about it.

"If she doesn't know, she should've tried to find out. If someone I loved disappeared for even a week, I'd go mad. I'd file a missing person's report, call every hospital, check every ditch and alley if I had to. I wouldn't just sit around and wait."

"She probably did file a missing complaint," Vyan murmured, lips curling in a bittersweet smile as he accepted the spoonful. His voice had gone soft, almost dreamy, like he was imagining Iyana's reaction upon Vyan's disappearance.

He wouldn't be surprised if he got to know that she had torn down mountains to search for him. She was crazy for him like that.

There was no way she would have sat still.

She would've searched every corner of the continent if she had to. She would've raged against heaven if she believed he'd been taken from her.

She wouldn't have left him.

As the warm broth slid down his throat, Vyan's gaze drifted to the window. "Trust me, Julia, there is no one in this entire universe who loves me more than her. So, please don't think poorly of her. Our circumstances are a little challenging."

Julia was surprised by the tone of his voice, which was a mixture of affection, faith, and longing. She couldn't help but concede, "Alright, alright, I believe you."

"Thanks," he mumbled and continued to be fed.

His thoughts slipped back—inevitably, uncontrollably—to her.

Iyana.

He recalled the dreams he'd had while trapped in that coma—a hazy maze of time where everything was blurred, except her. Over and over again, he had seen her caged, calling out to him with a voice so fragile it splintered his soul.

Were they just dreams?

When he first woke up, he was convinced that they were a reflection of what was currently going on in his world, but as he thought more deeply about it…

It didn't make sense. Iyana couldn't have fallen into that condition. There was no way.

Sienna was dead. Jade had been sealed away. Edgar was supposed to have been executed. Her family couldn't touch a hair even if they tried. Althea was crowned the Empress of Haynes. Clyde would never let harm come to Iyana as he has a sense of responsibility towards Vyan. And Iyana herself… gods, she was the strongest person he knew.

And yet… that image of her haunted him.

He had saved her. Changed the past. Stopped the eternal sleeping curse from overtaking her. He did all to ensure her safety.

So how? How could she have possibly ended up like that?

The math didn't add up.

It only made sense for his dreams to just be dreams. Cruel nightmares, in fact.

And yet, a sliver of dread carved its way into him. What if it wasn't just a dream? What if Iyana was actually trapped somewhere, waiting for him? What if—

"Hey!" Julia's voice cut through. "You're drifting again. Eyes on the soup, mister."

Vyan was startled before letting out a breathy chuckle. "Sorry," he murmured, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips as he obediently opened his mouth for the next spoonful.

The rest of the soup went down without protest. Julia kept her movements practical but affectionate. Once the bowl was empty, she wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin like he was a kid.

And then, without ceremony, she leaned down and hugged him.

It wasn't brief. Or stiff. It was the kind of hug only people with big hearts knew how to give—warm, full, secure. She didn't say anything. She just held him for a second longer than necessary.

And then, with a pat on his head and a final mock-glare, "Rest properly," she was gone.

Silence settled in the room again.

He felt an inexplicable warmth blooming quietly within him.

Vyan leaned back, eyes tracing the white ceiling. His chest still ached with uncertainty, his mind still pulled toward another world, another woman. He was still desperate to get out of here. To go home. To find Iyana, to hold her, to know she was safe.

But… even here, in this foreign world full of things he didn't understand, there were pieces of light.

A child who soothed his heart with tiny hands.

A woman who fed him soup and gave him the motherly affection he never knew he missed.

The door creaked open gently, and Emma stepped inside, her expression softening the moment she saw him. The warmth in her eyes was comforting, like always.

"You've calmed down, I see," she said, walking over with quiet steps.

Vyan raised an eyebrow, lips quirking with faint mischief. "What, did you expect me to keep crying like a baby?"

Emma let out a soft snort, sitting on the chair beside his bed. "Well… considering you didn't stop crying even in your coma, I was honestly hoping your tear ducts had finally tapped out."

He laughed lightly. "Touché."

Emma smiled, watching him. "So? How are you feeling now?"

Because she looked so much like Iyana, Vyan didn't even pretend to sugar-coat it. "Numb. Useless. Disabled. Handicapped. Stupid. Helpless—"

"Hey." Emma's voice was firm, but not unkind. She reached out and gently touched his arm, grounding him. "Don't talk about yourself like that. You're going to get better soon. And to help with that," she continued, "your physical therapy starts tomorrow."

"Thank goodness."

"You don't have to if you're not ready," she added. "But I know you'll want to be on your feet as soon as you can."

"You bet. How long do I need to be able to walk normally? I'm sick of staying in this bed."

She gave him a flat look. "You've been up for about six hours."

"Exactly, and I'd like to touch some grass."

She chuckled. "Anyway, to answer your question, one would normally need two to three weeks of physical therapy. But for you, honestly? If you push through and keep that stubborn will of yours alive, I wouldn't be surprised if you were walking in just one."

Vyan gave her a small nod. "As soon as I can stand, you know where I'm going."

Emma smiled again, a soft, knowing smile. "Yes. And everything's prepared for that. Also, Adrian is going to take you himself."

That surprised him. "Adrian? Personally?"

She nodded. "He wanted to make sure you won't have to go through too much stress during the journey. He'll drop you off till Miami, then you can sail the ship from there."

Vyan didn't say anything for a moment. The initial plan had been for Vyan to be handed over to a broker, who'd made sure that Vyan was smoothly able to cross the checkpoints without suspicion. But if Adrian was the one with Vyan, there'd be no suspicion at all.

Emma reached out, brushing some stray hair from his forehead. "You should get a haircut before you go. Your hair has gotten too long. You'd want to look handsome for your girl, right?"

"Yeah, okay. Thanks." He added after a moment, "Thank you for everything."

She smiled widely. "You don't have to thank us, Vyan. We're the ones who owe you. We'll do everything we can to help you get home. Someone like you deserves that."

There was a gentle silence that settled between them for a moment before Emma drew in a breath and her expression shifted slightly.

"Um… before I leave for today, there's just one more thing," she said softly. Then she turned her head toward the door and called, "Come in."

Two agents walked in—plainclothes, but wearing black vests marked FBI. They carried sketching equipment and laptops.

Emma looked back at him gently, lowering her voice. "You don't have to do this if you're not ready, okay? But… if you feel up to it, would you mind helping us sketch the man who did this to you?"

There was no pressure in her tone, only an open, kind request.

Vyan straightened a little, the comfort of her presence still lingering in his chest. He nodded.

"I don't mind. Let's do it."