The Villain Who Stole Hearts
Chapter 112: The Protagonist’s Script

Chapter 112: The Protagonist’s Script

Thud!

Saoirse slowly slid down from where she had been leaning against the white tiled wall, eventually collapsing onto the cold floor outside the operating room in a heap of helplessness.

Lyra stumbled forward, bracing herself on the bench outside the OR, trying desperately to steady her breathing. But the more she tried to suppress it, the more violently her body trembled.

It was as if something inside her had snapped—her hormones spiraling out of control.

...

Hours passed in the blink of an eye.

Lying in the hospital bed, Veil finally stirred, consciousness slowly returning.

"Veil!"

Saoirse and Lyra spoke in unison, both leaning forward at the same time, each gripping one of his hands tightly. Their eyes were filled with hope and relief.

Their reddened eyes told the story—who knew how many times they had cried?

"You must be thirsty. Want some water? I’ll get it for you!" Lyra released his hand, quickly turning around and grabbing the cup she’d already refilled countless times with hot water.

Saoirse followed suit, returning to her seat with a bowl in hand. Inside was porridge. She asked gently, "Are you hungry? It’s been several hours already."

Lying down, Veil’s brows suddenly furrowed.

"You first. You should eat something and get your strength back," Lyra said quickly, retracting the cup as if afraid it was too much.

Saoirse shook her head. "Warm water first. The doctor said you need to hydrate—clear out your system."

Unknowingly, the two women’s attitudes had undergone a complete transformation.

In just a few hours, they had learned to give way to one another?

If someone with low emotional intelligence were watching, they’d probably be laughing their head off.

But Veil, with his high EQ and sharp instincts, wasn’t amused in the slightest. In fact, his expression grew colder by the second. With effort, he turned his head toward Lyra, his voice hard and frigid.

"Weren’t you leaving? What are you still doing here? Trying to kill me with anger?"

"Get out! If you want to leave, then go. Don’t ever come back!"

"When have I, Veil, ever needed someone else just to stay alive?!"

"I..."

Lyra’s face turned ghostly pale. Her lips parted, but no words came out. She lowered her head, gently placing the water cup on the nearby table. Then, slowly, reluctantly, she stood up and walked toward the door—pausing with every few steps as if hoping someone would stop her.

But just as she reached the door, something happened.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The monitor beside Veil’s bed began to scream, flashing with red warning lights. The steady rhythm of the alarm cut through the air like a siren.

Saoirse, unfamiliar with medical devices, panicked. "Veil, don’t get worked up! Please, calm down—the doctor said you can’t get emotional..."

Veil didn’t respond. He just silently began circulating the Inner Breath Technique. But his body convulsed violently, twitching like he was being electrocuted, his eyes beginning to roll back.

Lyra, who had just reached the threshold of the door, turned around the moment she heard the alarm. All her hesitation vanished. She rushed back to the bed.

And the moment she stood beside him again, the alarm on the monitor began to slow. The red light faded. Within thirty seconds, the warning signals had completely stopped.

Huff...

Veil took a deep breath, still trembling slightly. He glanced in Lyra’s direction, his voice cold and cutting.

"Go on, leave! What, changed your mind now? Didn’t you really want to walk away earlier?"

"Go ahead. Don’t think anyone needs you to survive."

Lyra bit her lip, her expression filled with bitterness. Of course, she could hear the hurt and anger behind his harsh words.

But she didn’t argue. She simply sat down beside him, gently taking his hand in hers. Her voice was soft, almost like a vow.

"I’m not leaving. No matter how hard you try to push me away—I’m not leaving."

"Hmph."

Veil let out a cold snort from his nose and turned his head aside, refusing to look at the tenderness in her eyes.

"Quite a little temper you’ve got there..."

Lyra held Veil’s hand in hers, a gentle smile blooming on her face. The more indifferent Veil tried to act, the more joy and warmth blossomed in her heart.

Nothing made her happier than realizing that his words didn’t match his true feelings.

Not care?

Telling her to leave?

She bet that if she actually did walk out, the life monitor beside his bed would flatline in minutes.

It was as if she’d found a new reason to stay. The smile on Lyra’s face grew even softer. She cupped Veil’s hand to her cheek, gazing at the side of his face with quiet devotion.

It was a scene as touching as a masterfully painted portrait.

And watching it from the other side of the bed, Saoirse felt like her heart was being carved open with a knife.

She was on the verge of a breakdown. Seeing Lyra looking so satisfied and content only deepened her frustration, wave after wave crashing through her chest.

"I... I’m just stepping out for a bit," Saoirse said in a small voice, barely audible, lips pursed as she turned to leave.

Huff...

Veil’s breathing suddenly became erratic. He spat out three sharp words in a row.

"Good! Good! Great! I didn’t tell you to leave, but you just have to go, huh?"

In an instant, the Solar Overdrive Body technique kicked in. Normally, it would accelerate blood flow throughout his body—but Veil deliberately cut off the flow from the neck down, turning only his face and head crimson red, like a baboon’s butt.

Saoirse panicked, but also felt secretly relieved. "I’m just going to the bathroom! Don’t get worked up!"

"Really?!"

The technique’s intensity eased slightly as Veil stared at her and demanded confirmation.

Saoirse nodded frantically. "I’m not leaving. I won’t leave you. I promise."

"Who cares? Whether you stay or go has nothing to do with me. Your legs are on your own body—I can’t stop you if you want to walk."

Veil rolled his eyes and turned his head away. But seeing Lyra on that side, he awkwardly shifted again—this time to stare intently at the sterile white ceiling, refusing to say another word.

Inside, though, he let out a massive sigh of relief.

Fuck!

That nearly scared him to death.

One wrong move, and everything he’d been working toward would’ve been flushed down the drain.

Terrifying.

Especially this maneuver of pushing people away—it might work with Saoirse, since there was still room to pull her back later. But with Lyra, things would get messy.

That stunning professor wasn’t the type to speak her mind. She kept things buried deep. If she felt even slightly unwanted, she might quietly disappear—and never come back.

There’d be no second chances.

He couldn’t risk using the same trick three times in a row, could he?

After all, there was an old saying: Don’t try something more than three times.

Besides, Lyra was standing right there—what if she picked up on something?

Then the Inner Breath Technique, his ultimate trump card, might just become the very thing that blew everything up in his face—and he’d be the first to pay the price.

Thankfully, disaster was averted!

Veil mentally gave himself a thumbs-up. Not bad, Veil. That was some top-tier acting. And damn, you’re smart, too.

...

After that little storm blew over, several days quietly passed.

Kai had been sent out to oversee some important business, leaving only Lyra and Saoirse behind. The two women, once openly hostile, had now cooled into a state where they could at least greet each other civilly.

Especially in front of Veil—they’d each call the other "Saoirse, my sweet little sister" or "Lyra, my dear big sister" with saccharine smiles that were just a bit too polished.

Veil could tell there was still some tension beneath the surface, but that would take time to dissolve. For now, he’d done all he could.

"Ah~"

Saoirse held a fruit platter and gently skewered a peeled apple slice, raising it to Veil’s mouth.

He opened up, chewed slowly, then gave a soft hum of approval. Saoirse understood instantly, using a warm towel to carefully wipe the corners of his mouth.

At the side of the bed, Lyra was quietly flipping through a script in her hand.

Veil glanced over at her, then turned his head and asked lightly, "What do you think of the script?"

"This is a new one, isn’t it? I don’t recall seeing it before," Lyra murmured, still reading as she turned another page.

"Some parts are a bit cliché and shallow, but underneath that, the plot is solid. If it’s adapted into a series, I imagine it’ll do quite well with audiences.

However, the dialogue and scene descriptions are a little too flat. I could help polish them up if you’d like."

Solid plot?

Of course it was.

That was exactly what he needed. As for the writing style—well, that was understandable. After all, the "Child of Fate" behind this story had just reincarnated. His system wasn’t that generous, and most of the script had come from the starter pack and his fragmented memories. The script, titled "Twilight of the Twin Heroes," was barely 30% complete.

And he’d intentionally tossed in a few plot twists just to mess with it.

"No need for polishing. I’m not all that interested in the script itself. But the writer... I think he’s got potential."

Veil glanced toward Kai, who was sitting across the hospital bed, looking utterly shocked.

"Go ahead and buy the script outright," he said.

Kai swallowed hard, a bitter look on his face. "He refused. Said he won’t sell it outright. He’s only willing to license the digital and print publishing rights, and he wants a cut of the profits based on sales. As for the adaptation rights—TV, film, games—he’s not selling. I looked into it... His plan is to negotiate those separately, one year at a time, once the book gains popularity."

"You can even do that?" Lyra asked, genuinely surprised. "He’s that confident in his own work?"

As a literature professor, she’d published quite a few books herself—most of them sold outright to publishers, with only a small annual royalty afterward.

Sure, her works didn’t have much potential for adaptation, but still—most authors sold their full rights upfront. It was rare to see someone try to auction them off piecemeal.

"I’ve never heard of that strategy before," she murmured.

Veil gave a faint smile. If that guy didn’t even have this much confidence, how could he call himself a ’Child of Fate’ in the entertainment world?

Besides, this story had already been proven by the market. If it wasn’t worth the price, wouldn’t the Child of Fate know?

Still, Veil wasn’t upset. As always, he kept his cool.

"Buy it out. If he wants to sell, fine. If not, forget it. Just leave him a way to contact us."

"Understood. I’ll get on it."

Kai stood up, giving Veil a look filled with admiration.

Impressive.

As expected of the young master—his moves, his composure... There was still so much Kai had to learn.

Honestly, if he could, he’d gladly hand over his salary just to join a paid mentorship course under Veil.

Lately, he’d even started to miss some of the women he’d been spending time with. If possible, maybe he’d ask the manager at that club to introduce him to that livestreamer girl he’d been chatting