I, The Villainess, Will Seduce All The Heroines Instead -
Chapter 81: Preparation To What Is To Come!
Chapter 81: Preparation To What Is To Come!
"Yeah," Verena said, tightening the wraps around her wrists. "I’m here to practice. Nothing else."
Raphael took a hesitant step forward. "Can I... at least explain myself?"
She let out a bitter breath, eyes locked on the training dummies instead of him.
"Bold of you to assume I’m in the mood to listen," she said coolly. "You’ve already done enough, Raphael. More than enough."
There was a pause. He really had done a lot of wrong. In the novel, he never faced a single consequence for what he did to her.
Verena was brushed aside, written off as little more than an irritating obstacle. To the readers, she was just the villainess. Loud, dramatic, disposable.
"Just humor me for once," she added, stepping into the arena. "Pick up your sword. We’re here to train. That’s all."
Two days flew by in a blur of repeated routines. Exams dragged on like a bad sequel, but at least Verena had the benefit of knowing everything already. Honestly, the only fun part of school right now was answering questions like a smug time-traveling know-it-all.
"Excuse me—coming through—"
Students were now crowding around the giant announcement board as the exam rankings were posted by year and department.
"Oh my gods, I’m in 72nd place!" someone cried with the energy of a person who thought they failed but somehow didn’t.
"I GOT SECOND PLACE!" Beatrice squealed, practically vibrating with joy.
Verena arched an eyebrow, casually scanning the list. "Where am I then...?"
She spotted her name, sitting comfortably right above Beatrice’s.
"Wait. First place?!"
Beatrice gasped, jaw dropping. "You traitor."
If Verena had to make a dramatic guess, and let’s be real, she always did, then the true plot, the real juicy mess of it all, was looming just past the horizon.
Most likely right after the student council election. That’s when the narrative would stop playing nice and start throwing hands.
The kind of drama packed with maximum chaos, senseless misunderstandings, and plot twists so outrageous they deserved to be prosecuted in a court of literary law.
Honestly, it made perfect sense that the system had booted her into a "self-progression arc."
It might as well have screamed: "Girl, level up now before the author carpet-bombs your life with angst."
With exams finally in the rearview mirror, Verena was back in political beast mode, surrounded by scrolls, spreadsheets, and the wildly varying aesthetics of her not-so-ragtag party members.
The miting de avance, the grand finale rally before election day, was barreling toward them at full speed. And miraculously, their party didn’t look like a sad little social club anymore. There were actual bodies in seats. Living, breathing, semi-competent people.
Okay, maybe five. But five wasn’t zero.
Progress!
Verena made her way to the school library.
A towering, cathedral-like structure that stretched so high it looked as if the ceiling could scrape the stars.
Columns of shelves reached upward in dizzying spirals, packed with ancient tomes, arcane texts, and knowledge too old to have a price.
She ascended to the second floor, footsteps softened by the velvet carpeting, and found a quiet corner tucked between a row of dusty history books and an enchanted window that showed the shifting constellations in real time.
Perfect. Isolated. Peaceful.
Settling into the high-backed chair, she tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Now then... how do I open the system?"
She whispered it like a secret spell. "System. Open the store."
She exhaled.
Finally.
She hadn’t had the time or the emotional stability to explore the system’s store, not since the chaos began.
But she’d accumulated a fair number of Descent Points by now.
It was time to see what her suffering could buy.
===
SKILL STORE: VILLAINESS INTERFACE
User: Verena D’Auvergne
Current Balance: [Descent Points: 540]
Welcome, Villainess. Power is not inherited. It is claimed. Select a path.
===
SKILL CATEGORIES
Navigate by category to tailor your progression:
Manipulation & Charisma
Stealth & Subterfuge
Combat & Defense
Forbidden Knowledge
Political & Social Influence
===
"So, I can actually buy skills, huh?"
This was surprisingly handy. Verena might’ve been a human resources manager, but even she could admit her tendency to be a bit too stubborn and overly defensive about her own convictions.
"Alright, let’s kick things off with... manipulation and charisma."
===
MANIPULATION & CHARISMA
Silver Tongue (Tier 1)
Cost: 50 DP
Increases your ability to persuade, deceive, and charm others with practiced ease. Slightly reduces the chance of being detected while manipulating.
Upgrades: Enhance effectiveness, duration, and resistance to detection.
Whispered Lies (Tier 1)
Cost: 70 DP
Plant doubts and falsehoods subtly into your target’s mind during conversation.
Upgrades: Affect multiple individuals simultaneously, deepen confusion.
===
"Oh? I actually have enough for these?" Verena blinked. "Look at me, rich in Descent Points and poor in impulse control."
She eagerly scrolled deeper into the list, eyes sparkling like a kid in a cursed candy store. Most of the skills were Tier One—basic, but tempting.
A dangerous thought crept in.
"If I just... buy all of them... what happens? Do I evolve? Ascend? Get a ’Congratulations, you’ve officially become a menace’ badge?"
She hovered her finger over the system, attempting to scroll.
===
STEALTH & SUBTERFUGE
Silent Step (Tier 1)
Cost: 60 DP
Move undetected in most environments. Blend into crowds and vanish in plain sight.Upgrades: Increased stealth, near-invisibility, resistance to tracking.
Fake Persona (Tier 1)
Cost: 100 DP
Adopt a temporary false identity. Others will treat you according to your new persona’s assumed status.Upgrades: Longer duration, higher believability, access to confidential circles.
===
"Ah—!"
Verena spun around at the sudden crash behind her, nearly knocking over her chair in the process. A cascade of books had toppled from one of the higher shelves like a literary avalanche.
What in the—
She stepped forward cautiously, only to freeze at the sight of a red-haired girl crouched behind the bookshelf, looking like she’d just dropped out of a spy thriller.
"Miss, are you—"
Before she could finish, the redhead lunged, grabbing her by the wrist and yanking her down behind the shelf.
"Shhhh—!"
A hand clamped over Verena’s mouth.
It was warm. A little shaky. Slightly calloused.
Their faces were suddenly much too close. Breath hitched. Eye contact was dangerously prolonged.
Verena blinked. "Mmmph?!"
The redhead mouthed a silent, urgent "Sorry," but didn’t move.
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