I, The Villainess, Will Seduce All The Heroines Instead
Chapter 104: The Voices

Chapter 104: The Voices

[Two Weeks Ago...]

***

Evelyn stood alone in an endless sea of stars.

There was no ground. Only light beneath her feet, threads of gold and silver stretching in every direction like the weavings of a forgotten loom. The constellations pulsed above her, each one whispering in voices she had never heard yet somehow always known.

"Child of the Weave..."

The voice didn’t come from outside.

Her hands began to glow, symbols etching into her skin like memory reborn: Aries, Pisces, Scorpio... all twelve signs, encircling a thirteen-pointed star on her palm.

A colossal shadow emerged from the stars.

It had no face, only a crown of cosmos and eyes like galaxies, shifting and infinite. It knelt before her, not in reverence, but in acknowledgment.

"Your thread was cut... but never forgotten."

Suddenly, Evelyn’s body flickered like glass reflecting thousands of lives. A thousand versions of herself screamed, wept, smiled, fought until the noises became silent once more.

She looked down. The starlight threads were tangled beneath her feet. They were knotted, frayed, broken.

"Why me?"

"Because you are the loom and the thread. You are the one who can rewrite the pattern."

***

"Huh?!..."

She jolted upright, breath hitching, heart racing from yet another dream.

It wasn’t the first, not since that day Verena walked away.

A night marked by mistakes, pride, and that image seared into her memory: Verena choosing to hold Penelope’s hand instead of hers.

Because... she’d been wrong too.

But this dream wasn’t random. She knew that much.

Even so, the question haunted her more than the dream ever could:

If she was truly the incarnation of the Worldchanger, the first Zodiac Weaver, then why did she feel so small?

Especially when her life first began?

Now that she was more connected to Verena, she felt more powerful.

"The Threads are in chaos..."

"Evelyn..."

"Fix them..."

"Fix it..."

And then, she saw them.

Not in her mind’s eye, but in raw, unfiltered reality. Threads coiled and tangled through her room like shining veins of fate. They were fraying, snapping, trembling under unbearable pressure.

Some pulsed with pain. Others hung limp, dangerously close to breaking.

They were everywhere, rapped around her limbs, piercing through her chest, whispering static into her ears. She reached out, trying to mend one.

Snap!

The recoil stung her fingers. Too unstable. Too broken.

Too much.

"Nevermind..."

Instead of spiraling any deeper, Evelyn dragged herself out of bed like a ghost on its last nerve. She bathed, combed her hair into something halfway presentable, pulled on her uniform, and trudged off to school.

The halls were quieter than usual, every step echoing like a reminder that she didn’t exactly have people waiting for her.

But still, she promised Verena she’d try. So here she was. Trying.

So that she could marry her.

However, as she saw Beatrice on her way on the entrance gate of the school, her eyes widened in fury.

She was always too close to Verena.

Evelyn’s eye twitched. Her first, instinctive thought?

I could snap her in half like a decorative twig in one of those fancy tea parties she hosts. I bet she’d still look perfect even while broken in two.

Jealousy bloomed like a weed in her stomach, all tangled thorns and biting envy.

Beatrice looked up and waved sweetly, radiant and clueless as always.

Evelyn forced a smile that probably looked more like a pained grimace.

Friendly. Be friendly, she screamed internally. Do NOT break the shiny porcelain doll. That’s not part of personal growth.

"Hey, Bea..." she croaked.

"Oh! Evelyn! You look cute today!"

"O-Oh, thanks..."

Evelyn had seen Beatrice making out with some random guy in an alleyway just a few days ago.

Why Verena, of all people, was close to her remained a mystery.

It wasn’t the first time, either.

There had been another guy.

Then another.

All of them clearly interested in one thing, and it wasn’t Beatrice’s sparkling personality.

Evelyn wasn’t naive; she knew she herself was a people-pleaser. But Beatrice? Beatrice made her stomach turn.

"Hm?" Beatrice smiled, all sweet and clueless.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was the wide-eyed act that pulled people in. That faux innocence that made you want to protect her... or strangle her.

Evelyn really wanted to kill her.

Really, really did.

But no.

One of the notes Verena had scribbled for her—"The Arts of War, Condensed (Very Condescending) Edition"—read: ’Keep your enemies closer. Preferably in your group.’

So Evelyn smiled tightly, voice just a bit too high.

"U-Um... do you want to join my group?"

Evelyn couldn’t believe she was doing this.

Befriending Beatrice, of all people?

But there was something oddly comforting about Beatrice’s unrelenting energy and carefree attitude.

Each day felt like a strange, chaotic little adventure they never planned. It was... refreshing.

"Do you like, always have a new outfit every day?" Evelyn asked, as Beatrice strutted in with yet another outrageous ensemble.

This time, a pink dress with little white cat ears attached to the hood.

Beatrice grinned ear-to-ear. "Of course! Fashion is a lifestyle, darling!" She flung her arms out dramatically, nearly knocking over a vase. "Do you want to try one of my fashion makeovers? It’ll be fun!"

Evelyn, though utterly overwhelmed, tried to hide her smile. "Maybe later," she muttered, still trying to comprehend how she ended up in a whirlwind of glitter and sparkles.

It wasn’t long before their strange, awkward friendship bloomed.

Beatrice had this way of dragging Evelyn into everything.

Shopping sprees, tea parties, even attempting to teach her how to "flirt" (which Evelyn immediately regretted as Beatrice made her practice winking in front of a mirror).

The strangest part was how she didn’t even need Verena’s approval for any of this.

All she had to do was keep hanging out with Beatrice, and Verena seemed to finally stop looking at her with that intense, expectant stare.

It was like she was invisible, and Evelyn was fine with that for once.

But, of course, there were moments.

Moments when Verena would pass by, and Evelyn felt her heart do an unexpected flip.

She quickly looked away, pretending to be fascinated by a random flower pot Beatrice had placed on the table.

Nope, nope. Not thinking about Verena.

Beatrice was talking about some new drama she read about in the latest gossip magazine, but Evelyn could barely concentrate.

Verena was nearby, and there was that weird, almost magnetic pull she couldn’t ignore.

Focus, Evelyn. Focus.

Beatrice noticed her distracted look and waggled her eyebrows. "What’s this? Are we finally catching feelings for someone, hm?"

Evelyn’s face turned crimson. "W-What? No! No, I—"

"Sure, sure. I’ll pretend I didn’t see that blush," Beatrice teased, nudging her with a wink.

"N-No!"

Her mind wandered, desperately grasping at anything warm, anything kind. And it landed, surprisingly, on Beatrice.

At first, Evelyn hated it.

The chaos. The constant dragging into absurd nonsense.

The way Beatrice, and now, Sera would suddenly plan an ambush girls’ night like it was a military operation.

Who even decided that doing face masks while dodging magical explosions was "team bonding"?

But over time... it started to grow on her.

They bickered. They plotted. Beatrice always brought snacks. Sera kept trying to arm-wrestle everyone.

And Evelyn just quietly laughed to herself more than she ever had before.

She didn’t realize how natural it became to say, "Fine, I’ll come," while already putting on her boots.

How natural it became to sit in the corner, doing her own thing, while the others filled the air with noise and life. She’d knit, or read, or just stare at the threads.

The threads.

She had always been able to sense them.

Those invisible lines that bound people, events, emotions together. Like silver silk trailing through the air, connecting fate’s tapestry. But lately... they shifted. Grew louder. Clearer.

Especially when she was near Verena.

Something about her felt off. It was not wrong, but unfamiliar. Her threads shimmered differently, like they weren’t woven into the world the same way. And it wasn’t just Verena.

It was the way things tilted. The way outcomes changed when Evelyn acted not out of love, but choice. The way the world seemed to notice.

Like someone, or something, was watching. Waiting.

And one night, in the silence that followed their stupid hangout, Evelyn looked at the threads dancing above her fingertips and whispered,

"Could it be... that I’m in some kind of reality, where this world is merely a game for those above?"

Evelyn sat upright in her bed with a strange chill running down her spine.

The mirror across from her flickered, just once. Then again. Not a system. Not a voice. But something ancient.

It called itself "The Echo."

Not a guide. Not a command. Just a presence. A soft ripple in time that responded not to logic, but emotion. To choice.

It didn’t give orders. It reflected them.

As Evelyn stood, a question appeared, scrawled across the misted mirror:

"Will you let her suffer alone?"