NTR: Minor Villain Wants to Be the Main Villain

The young woodcutter's gaze flicked from Artis to Lily, his brow furrowing slightly. Then, without breaking eye contact with her, he leaned in and whispered something against her ear.

Lily rolled her eyes, gave him a light slap on the arm, and whispered something back while pointing at Artis.

'Oh, for fuck's sake—enough with the secret meetings. What the hell is this, a spy convention? Just say it out loud, goddammit.'

Artis kept his face neutral, standing there like a benevolent, patient man who wasn't just eavesdropping on a conversation about his own fate.

On the outside, he was cool, collected, exuding noble confidence.

On the inside? He was screaming.

Then—CLAP!

Lily suddenly clapped her hands together, breaking the moment like a schoolteacher catching two students passing notes.

She turned her annoyed but slightly amused gaze from the woodcutter to Artis and, with the grace of someone who had just dropped a fucking nuke into the conversation, announced:

"Let me introduce you to my stupid fiancé, Hajin."

'Oh. Oh, this bitch.'

Artis's mind short-circuited for half a second.

Meanwhile, Lily kept going like she hadn't just shattered his entire mood:

"Hajin, this is Artis, our patron, who just saved us from our entire debt, and with the balance left over, we will finally have the dream wedding we've always wanted."

She smiled, looking between the two men like they were old drinking buddies instead of two natural enemies about to piss in each other's territory.

Hajin's face remained skeptical, his arms crossing over his ridiculously chiseled chest, like he wasn't entirely buying this new 'patron' situation.

Meanwhile, Artis's soul left his body for a second.

His fake smile stretched so wide that it could have belonged to a deranged mannequin, especially when he heard the words "dream wedding."

'Dream what? Bitch, I just met you this morning, and now I'm paying for your fantasy wedding?'

He was desperately holding onto his 'polite nobleman' act, but deep down, a very primal, very aggressive part of him was screaming:

'I'M GONNA FUCKING WRECK THIS WEDDING.'

"Marriage? Oh, congratulations, Lily! And, Hajin, I'm so damn sorry you have to deal with this thing for the rest of your life."

Artis smiled brightly, his words dripping with honeyed sarcasm, but the effect was immediate. Lily's beaming expression shattered like a cheap porcelain plate.

Meanwhile, Hajin's skeptical frown cracked open into laughter, his deep chuckles turning into a full-blown cackle.

"Pfft—ha ha ha! True, true..."

Hajin shook his head, still laughing, completely missing the deadly shift in Lily's expression. A vein visibly twitched on her forehead as she turned to him, slowly, mechanically, like a horror villain about to go apeshit. Enjoy new tales from My Virtual Library Empire

"Ohhh, so it's funny now, huh?"

Hajin didn't notice.

"You're laughing now?"

He still didn't notice.

"All your deep, brooding suspicion about Artis just disappeared in an instant, huh?"

Still laughing.

Lily cracked her fingers. Then her neck. Then rolled her shoulders like she was preparing for a fucking street fight.

By the time Hajin finally sensed the incoming storm, it was too fucking late.

"Lily, wait, I—HUUPP!"

THWACK!

Lily jumped—literally jumped—to slap him square on the top of his head.

Hajin immediately crouched down, clutching his skull, groaning.

"You wanna laugh now, huh?" Lily fisted her hands, standing over him like a mob boss about to collect a debt.

"You wanna laugh now, Mr. Hajin?!"

Hajin said nothing. He just held his head and prayed.

"Oi, oi, stop whacking Hajin!"

Artis waved his hands like a referee breaking up a bar fight.

"Can't a man joke around and laugh a little? What kind of cruel world is this where a dude gets his head smacked just for appreciating good comedy?"

Hajin, still rubbing his abused scalp, shot him a look of gratitude.

Artis strode over, all confidence and swagger, before dramatically extending his hand.

"Come on, brother," he said, voice dripping with camaraderie. "Get up. Let me see who the fuck dares to hurt you again."

The last part? Pointedly aimed at Lily.

Lily, who was still pouting like a kid caught stealing cookies, huffed and looked away, arms crossed tightly under her chest—pushing up her breasts just enough for Artis to appreciate the view.

She couldn't exactly scold or smack their glorious new patron, so instead, she settled for pretending to ignore both of them while secretly eavesdropping.

Hajin, after cautiously glancing at her to confirm he wasn't about to get backhanded again, finally accepted Artis's hand.

And holy shit.

The moment their hands clasped, Hajin felt it. Strength.

Not the usual soft, noble-born 'I lift a fancy tea cup and occasionally slap servants' type of strength. No, this grip was firm, controlled, and radiated a quiet confidence.

'What the hell…?'

He had assumed Artis was just another spoiled cultivator brat, the kind who strutted around in silk robes, smelled like imported rosewater, and threw money at problems instead of actually solving them.

But his clothes were flimsy, definitely not the arrogant statement-piece most cultivators preferred. And that grip? It wasn't enhanced by spiritual energy. That was raw fucking power.

'Did this guy just… work out? Like a normal person?!'

The realization hit Hajin so hard he almost let go.

Meanwhile, Artis, completely aware of the effect he was having, flashed him a dazzling smile like some heroic prince out of a raunchy romance novel.

'Yeah, buddy. Let that sink in. Your fiancée just introduced you to a man who could probably throw you over his shoulder and steal her if he wanted.'

Lily, oblivious to the tense, hyper-masculine handshake moment happening right in front of her, sighed dramatically.

"Are you both done? Or are you gonna start oiling up and wrestling next?"

Artis smirked.

"That depends. You gonna watch?"

Lily rolled her eyes, but the way her lips twitched upward gave her away.

"Thank you for saving me from this disa—I mean, my lovely fiancée..."

Hajin barely caught himself mid-sentence, but it was too fucking late. A cold, sharp stare sliced through the back of his neck like a cursed dagger.

Lily.

She was smiling. Smiling. But it was that particular kind of smile women gave right before they decided whether they were gonna break a plate over your head or poison your dinner.