Chapter 2

The rage was a physical thing. It burned hotter than the fever that had consumed my body. Watching her burn my gift, my hope, was the final betrayal. She didn't just discard me, she erased me. She took my love and turned it into a prop for her public relations campaign. Liam, standing beside her, looked away from the fire, his expression unreadable. But he didn't stop her. He was complicit. He was weak.

The darkness that followed the flatline was not an end. It was a pause. A loading screen.

I was floating in a void, the anger still a hot coal in my chest.

Then, the voice returned. Not the cold, mechanical System, but something else. It was ancient and vast.

[Error in narrative trajectory. Protagonist deviation resulted in premature termination. Recalibrating.]

[Option: Rebirth Protocol. Accept role as designated 'Villain.' Fulfill narrative obligations. Survive.]

There was no choice. Not really. The alternative was this empty nothingness. The memory of Eleanor' s smiling face as she burned my heart to ash was all the motivation I needed.

[Accept,] I thought, the intention screaming through the void.

[Binding to Host Ethan Miller. Role: Villain. Primary Objective: Catalyze the relationship between Eleanor Vance and Liam Stone through targeted antagonism. Survival and freedom are contingent on mission completion.]

The world rushed back in a dizzying flood of light and sound.

I shot up with a gasp, the sheets of a bed tangled around my legs. The air was clean, fresh, not the sterile, death-scented air of the hospital. Sunlight streamed through a large window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. My hands flew to my chest. I felt a strong, steady heartbeat. I took a deep, shuddering breath, filling my lungs completely. There was no pain. No weakness.

My hands... they were unblemished. Smooth and strong, not the pale, thin claws they had become. I looked around the room. It was my old bedroom in the Miller house. My real parents' house. A place I hadn' t seen in over a decade.

A calendar on the wall read 'August 2014.'

I was eighteen again. Ten years. I had gone back ten years.

The door opened and a woman with kind eyes and hair streaked with grey peeked in. My mother. Not my adoptive aunt, but my actual mother, Sarah Miller.

"Ethan? You' re awake. You were sleeping so soundly, I didn' t want to wake you for breakfast."

Tears welled in my eyes, hot and sudden. "Mom," I choked out.

Her smile faltered, replaced by concern. She rushed to my side, her cool hand pressing against my forehead. "Honey, what' s wrong? Are you feeling sick? You don' t have a fever."

I shook my head, unable to speak. I just threw my arms around her and held on, burying my face in her shoulder. The scent of cinnamon and laundry detergent, the scent of unconditional love. It was something I had craved my entire previous life. The Millers, my biological parents, had been simple, loving people. After a car accident took them, I was sent to live with my mother's estranged sister, Eleanor. That was when my life had truly ended the first time.

But this time, they were here. They were alive.

"It' s okay, sweetie," she murmured, stroking my hair. "Just a bad dream."

It wasn' t a dream. It was a memory. And a promise.

Later that morning, after a breakfast of pancakes that tasted like heaven, my father, a quiet man with calloused hands from his carpentry work, sat with me on the porch.

"You seemed troubled this morning, son," he said, looking out at the yard.

"Just... thinking about the future," I said. It wasn't a lie.

"You got that acceptance letter from the architecture program at Crestwood University," he said with a proud smile. "That' s a great future right there."

Crestwood. That' s where it all started. That' s where Eleanor found me again. She had come to a student exhibition, praised my work, and offered me an internship at her gallery. An orphan, desperate for a connection to his mother' s family, I had fallen right into her trap.

Not this time.

[New Mission available,] the System' s voice, now a familiar and unwelcome presence, echoed in my mind. [Attend the Vance Gallery Summer Gala. Task: Publicly spill a drink on Liam Stone.]

[Reward: +5 Health Points. Note: Health points are a buffer against System-induced physical decline.]

The gala. I remembered it. It was the first time I saw Liam. He was the guest of honor, a rising star sculptor Eleanor was championing. In my past life, I had stood in the corner, shy and overwhelmed, watching Eleanor charm him from across the room. I had felt a pang of jealousy then, a feeling I had quickly suppressed out of loyalty.

This time, I wouldn' t be watching from the corner.

"Dad," I said, my voice steady. "I think I need a new suit."

My father looked at me, a little surprised by the sudden declaration. "Oh? Got a special occasion?"

I gave him a smile that didn' t quite reach my eyes. "Yeah," I said. "You could say that. I' m going to a party." A party where I would officially begin my new life as the villain.