I Became the Narrow-Eyed Villain in a Dropped Novel

“That concludes today’s report.”

“Good work, Strategy Head. Go get some rest.”

“Yes, sir.”

Doruga exited the room the moment I finished speaking.

“Tch.”

It wasn’t directed at anyone in particular.

Now that I was the uncomfortable superior, it turned out it wasn’t just my subordinates who were uncomfortable—I was too.

Every time I made a move, they tensed up so much that I ended up getting tense as well.

At the second regular meeting, held a week after the first, every department had prepared so excessively that it became a problem.

I could still remember the department heads’ silent expressions of protest—“Then what do you expect?”—when I asked why they’d prepared so much.

Improving relations with HQ didn’t seem like it was going to be easy.

“I can’t exactly host a team-building retreat or anything. But keeping things like this isn’t great either.”

With no good ideas, I shook my head and got up from my seat.

Maybe a certain level of tension was better.

It was something I’d have to address eventually, but it wasn’t a pressing issue for now.

With the Strategy Division’s report, my work for the day was done.

Usually, I spent the remaining time reading theory books on mana control or practicing spells.

Reading I could do in the study, but spell practice required more space than either the study or my bedroom could provide.

It hadn’t been a problem when I was just practicing basic 9th-tier spells, but now I needed somewhere to unleash my overflowing mana.

On top of that, I needed a place private enough that no one would see me training with beginner-level magic—it was embarrassing.

‘Still haven’t found a spot that feels right.’

Valheit’s summer villa, which jutted out into the famous Caspiye Lake and was renowned for its beautiful scenery and wide grounds, was perfect for leisure—but its surrounding area was too cramped.

A large outdoor training field was out of the question, and the indoor space was too tight to move around freely.

In the end, I still hadn’t found a new practice area for various reasons.

‘If nothing else, maybe I should build a training room by the lake… but if it’s far, that’ll be annoying to walk to.’

As I stepped out of the study deep in thought, I locked eyes with someone.

It was Til, dressed not in her usual stiff gray uniform, but in a simple training outfit.

She must’ve just returned from a trip—she’d left HQ a few days ago saying she had something to do.

‘Alright. It’s been a few days. Let’s greet her warmly. Good impressions matter.’

“Hey, long time no see.”

“…What.”

A curt response.

That was how all my recent conversations with Til had gone.

Whenever I spoke first, she responded warily.

“Did everything go well?”

“Roughly.”

The conversation stalled immediately.

Let me be clear—it’s not a matter of lacking social skills on my part.

The problem is the other person clearly has no intention of continuing the conversation.

So far, I’d let it go.

But not today.

I was going to push through the awkwardness. When it came to patience, I was confident I could match anyone.

“Where are you headed?”

“Training.”

“I could tell that from your clothes. I meant where.”

Til’s expression twisted slightly, but I decided not to care.

It’s not like she could beat me up here, right? …Probably.

“…The basement. You said I could use it freely, remember?”

Oh?

Her sigh-laced answer caught my interest.

If Til, who used all sorts of weapons, trained there, it had to be fairly spacious.

“Mind if I watch?”

“…Why?”

“I just got curious all of a sudden.”

Til glared at me like she wanted to kill me.

I met her gaze directly.

Not that it meant anything—I had my eyes closed anyway.

After about thirty seconds, Til looked away first.

“There’s no point in having a staring contest with you. Do what you want.”

“I wasn’t having a staring contest, but if you feel embarrassed, I’ll count it as one for your sake.”

“Stop twisting words… Are you coming or not?”

Push any further and I really would get hit.

I nodded, and Til took the lead.

She opened a door tucked into an inconspicuous corner, revealing a dark stairway.

‘No wonder I couldn’t find this place.’

The basement wasn’t very deep.

The perimeter was lined with eerie stone pillars, and aside from a few training dummies in the center, it was mostly empty.

“Light’s Guidance.”

As Til murmured, a bright orb floated beside her.

I knew that spell.

It was Light’s Guidance, the most basic 9th-tier spell.

As I stared in admiration, Til frowned.

Now what?

Maybe my expression looked too impressive, because she added an explanation in a flat voice.

“I’m not at the level where I can cast spells without speaking, like you.”

“So what? Half the people out there can’t even cast 9th-tier spells.”

She muttered something under her breath—probably cursing me—then moved to the center of the training space.

She wasn’t holding any weapons.

“Not using weapons?”

“You want me to trash the basement?”

“…No.”

A shame.

In the novel, Til was portrayed as a master of weapons.

Anything in her hand became a deadly weapon, and with proper equipment, she could take on hundreds alone.

I didn’t remember seeing her fight barehanded…

Well, if she had that level of strength, I guess she’d be good at martial arts too.

Regardless of my expectations, Til took a stance.

It was an unusual one.

It looked like she was gripping something—but I wasn’t well-versed enough to tell if it was a martial arts pose.

“Hup.”

With a short breath, Til dashed forward.

Or rather, it looked like she teleported.

Anyone with normal eyes wouldn’t have been able to follow her movement.

As she reached the dummy, she swung her hand.

It wasn’t a punch.

It was a motion like slashing with something gripped.

Only then did I understand her stance.

She was swinging an imaginary weapon.

Even that alone created a chilling wave, and just that shockwave was enough to crack and topple the training dummies.

“Hap!”

With each shift in stance, her “weapon” changed.

A spear, an axe, a dagger, a staff—she flowed between them all.

Finally, she snapped the dummy’s neck, marking the end of her phantom weapon dance.

I found myself clapping without realizing it.

Til flinched at the sudden applause.

“That was incredible. So this is the famed Weapon Demon of Chartra.”

“Acting all impressed like it’s your first time seeing it. Wait—have you never seen me barehanded before?”

“Even if I’ve seen it before, it doesn’t make it any less impressive.”

“…And yet it’s all worthless if I’m just a half-baked warrior who can’t use magic.”

For the first time, her bold voice sounded discouraged.

Weapon Demon of Chartra.

That was the nickname Til had earned before joining the Eight Council.

It was partly praised for her ghost-like fighting ability—but also subtly derisive.

In the Eslick Empire, the human nation most obsessed with magic, someone without magical talent could only ever hope to be a “ghost.”

If this were a different setting with aura for swordmasters, it might have been a different story, but because of the author's preferences, The Path of the Demon King didn’t include anything like that.

In the end, magical talent was what mattered most.

At least, that was common sense among citizens of the Empire.

“What does that matter?”

“…What?”

“Magic, weapons, machinery, organizations—they’re all just tools. What’s important is whether you can achieve your goal with those tools.”

It was a line Valheit said in the original.

The end justifies the means.

In other words, do whatever it takes to get results. The kind of thing a villain would say.

From a coworker’s perspective, if she could get results, it didn’t matter that she was bad at magic.

To be honest, at her level, she might as well be casting magic already. It wasn’t like she needed it.

“Are you being serious right now?”

“I’m always serious.”

“You sure don’t look serious. You’re even grinning right now.”

Hey, can’t help it—I’ve got a naturally smiley face.

Valheit was designed from the ground up to smirk and get under people’s skin.

Now that I think about it, advice really doesn’t suit him at all.

“Yeah. Half-baked or not, I made a promise to the Commander.”

The Commander…

Now that I think about it, in The Path of the Demon King, the founding intent behind the Eight Council was never revealed, even to the end.

There were tons of theories that the Commander—who never even appeared through all 300 episodes—was just a MacGuffin.

Should I try asking?

“What kind of promise did you make with the Commander?”

“Then what did you promise when you joined the Eight Council?”

…How should I know? The story got axed before that ever came up.

I couldn’t exactly say that, so I just smiled.

“If you agreed to work under the Commander, that’s the end of it. Why are you asking me that all of a sudden?”

“Ha-ha, just kidding. You can put your fist down now, that’s really scary.”

“Not my fault you brought it up. I’m leaving. You?”

I looked around the basement.

This place was perfect for practicing magic.

No risk of getting caught, and plenty of space.

Of course, I’d have to use it only when Til wasn’t around—I didn’t want her finding out.

“I’ll stay a bit longer.”

“You’re not planning anything weird, are you?”

“Of course not.”

“…Hmph.”

Til gave me a once-over, shrugged, and left.

Darkness immediately swallowed the training room.

“Alright, guess I’ll start off light with Light’s Guidance.”

Light’s Guidance, often called the most basic of 9th-tier spells, was basically glorified torch magic despite the grand name.

It was one of the most commonly learned spells because it had plenty of everyday uses.

Usually, it floated just beside the caster and didn’t last very long, but with Valheit’s body, I figured things might be different.

I concentrated, gathering mana into my palm.

It was nothing compared to the 8th-tier spell Mana Grasp, but since I was planning to pour in as much mana as possible, I had to be careful.

Click.

“Oh right, Valheit—”

“HUH?!”

Til opened the door and peeked in.

Naturally, my attention snapped toward her.

And the mana I’d gathered in my palm—

—exploded into blinding light, flooding the entire basement.

***

“I told you, it was an accident!”

“You want me to believe you messed up that simple spell?!”

Til growled, her eyes wrapped in bandages.

I didn’t expect this either, okay?

Til lost her sight for an entire day and went ballistic, claiming I did it on purpose.

“If you wanted me gone, you could’ve just said so!”

“I didn’t mean to! I really didn’t!”

I swear, I had no idea this would happen.

Who could’ve guessed all that mana would turn Light’s Guidance into a light-based explosion?

“You accidentally blasted light all the way past the basement doors, but made sure your eyes were fine?!”

“I mean… I have Narrow-eyes…”

“You’ve GOT to be f***ing kidding me!!”

Okay, yeah—just having your eyes closed wouldn’t normally protect you from something that bright.

But really, my eyes were totally fine—just a little stingy at worst.

I could only assume Valheit’s closed eyes had some kind of special protective function.

“There’s no way I could’ve known you’d be coming back. Why did you come to the training room anyway?”

Til exhaled hard, still fuming.

Calm down. Just breathe.

Only after murmuring that to herself several times did she respond.

“…My father wants to see you.”

“Your father? You mean Lord Chartra?”

The Chartra family was one of the seven noble houses of the Eslick Empire and ruled the eastern coast.

Being near the sea, they were wealthy from trade and had strong military connections due to constant pirate threats.

But more than that, they were famous for producing countless magic swordsmen.

Though Til had practically severed ties with her family, she still kept minimal contact.

“Yeah. I don’t know what he’s up to, but he said you’d understand if I told you.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Yeah right. Bet it’s more noble infighting again, huh?”

“Who knows.”

It wasn’t in the novel, but I vaguely remembered seeing something similar among the author’s lore dumps on social media.

I couldn’t recall exactly what, though.

“Well, guess I’ll find out when I get there. Will you be coming too?”

“Why would I go see that crusty old man? You go alone.”

“Who said anything about meeting your estranged dad? Come as my escort.”

“Tch… fine, whatever.”

Even if I was wearing Valheit’s skin, I didn’t feel safe going alone.

No matter how well I memorized the lore, I could still get tripped up or run into danger.

Til sighed like she was already tired of it, but nodded.

“Alright then… Ron!”

“You called?”

Ron appeared beside me in under a second.

Seriously, where the hell does he come from?

“Let Lord Chartra know that Til and I will be coming—”

“I’ve just sent the messenger. You’ll be able to depart in an hour.”

Creepy guy. I clicked my tongue and searched my memory for the relevant lore.

Chartra…

What happened with them again?