A Regressed Villain: Heroines, Villainesses and Me?

In many ways, my life felt better than that of those around me.

Yet, beneath that surface of privilege, a lingering sensation haunted me.

It was as if the world were a trap, slowly enshrouding me in an endless loop that led to a path growing increasingly narrow.

I felt as though I had no alternatives for escape.

It was a daunting feeling: as if fate had carved out a tight endpoint for me, and all I could see ahead was a sword, precariously suspended by a thin thread above my head.

That thought was unsettling, a quiet reminder that even in a life filled with comforts, I could still feel trapped.

Slowly, to escape that constricting path, I began to tap on the nearby walls, which were growing narrower, hoping they would reveal some light.

Finally, it felt worth it.

I glimpsed a boy seated by the lake, lost in his own world as he swung a wooden sword, his pink hair and eyes reflecting a mix of mourning and rage.

In that moment, it felt like I had discovered something significant.

My mind urged me to cross this wall, to meet him and break free from the life I had been trapped in.

As I sprinted toward that morning light, I saw a wall crumble, and I dashed toward it.

Suddenly, my life began to shift.

I no longer felt confined; I had friends who accepted me.

I shared my darkness with those who brought light to my world. With them by my side, everything felt different—I was free.

But then, out of nowhere, another light entered my life.

It was so bright that it shattered my dreams.

The hopes I had for freedom crumbled, and I found myself back on that same narrow path.

I walked endlessly, tapping on the walls as that blinding light snatched away the smaller ones—the glimmers of support that had once surrounded me.

It was heart-wrenching to watch as those who tried to console me became distracted by that bright light.

In a life that felt worthless, I often thought about ending it all.

Yet, somewhere deep inside, I held onto the belief that maybe, just maybe, I would glimpse a spark of hope again.

But it never came.

I know now it was just a hallucination.

Even if hope did arise, it might only be another fleeting dream.

Just like a dream that I am seeing in front of me right now.

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤREGRESSED VILLAIN

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'What is this?' I stood just ten steps away from the man seated in the chair, utterly absorbed in his book.

It felt as if my entire world had been turned upside down.

The only sound was my heartbeat thumping in my ears, my breath caught tight in my throat.

The gentle rustling of grass and trees in the breeze faded into the background as my eyes remained locked on that window.

'Regressed Villain?' Seeing the title—identical to my own—was like gazing into a mirror reflecting my essence.

But this reflection seemed to wander down a different path, one that opened up on the opposite lane of the wall I was leaning against.

I turned my focus to that wall, where he sat just a few steps away.

Unlike the blinding light I had known many years ago, this scene radiated a serene beauty filled with darkness.

He sat there as if resting by a peaceful lake, the air gently ruffling his hair under the soft glow of the moonlight, surrounded by twinkling stars.

The darkness felt inviting, calm, as he delved into the pages of his book.

Yet, I hesitated.

A nagging thought reminded me that this could very well be a dream, ready to shatter at any moment.

I closed my eyes briefly, trying to calm my racing heart and remind myself not to believe in illusions.

It was just a fleeting moment—nothing more.

I took a step forward, passing through that wall, which, unlike the previous one, did not shatter but instead allowed me to pass through.

In that instant, I couldn't hear my friends or see any other students.

It felt as though I had stepped into that tranquil night, cradled by the cool moonlight, moving past that tiny dream before finally taking my place.

"Hey Aria, what happened? Don't tell me you have fallen in love?"

-----

"Huh?" Suddenly, hearing one of the young woman's words, Aria was brought out of her thoughts, blinking as she turned towards her friends, who were looking at her with teasing gazes as one of them nudged her elbow, prompting Aria to realize that she had taken her seat while looking towards the man who was seated in the chair as he closed his book.

"Be quiet," Aria nudged them back, saying they were too close and added, "Give me space and go back to your mat."

"Fufu, she definitely is in love with the new professor," one of her friends chuckled as Aria just shook her head in helplessness. Though, of course, she was taken aback in her mind, calming herself, she turned her back towards the man who had just stood from his chair.

'Aria, so it's her,' Avendial stood calmly, starting to unbutton his black suit. He revealed the white shirt beneath while his eyes noted the reactions from all the students. Everyone except one seemed to have shown a normal reaction.

Of course, it was possible that the girl had fallen in love with him, given she had seen someone as handsome as him for the first time. But to be truthful, he wasn't narcissistic enough to consider himself the world's most handsome man, and knowing himself very well, it was clear that this was definitely not due to his charm.

But seeing how she had just walked past the walls, entering his domain without knowing that it was a one-way gateway—someone could come inside but never go back.

Removing his suit and placing it on the chair, before slightly opening the first button of his shirt and brushing his hair back, he glanced towards the same woman who didn't even think that she was just allowed to pass through the wall because it was a trap to lure her in, and now that she had stepped into this dark night, it would only sink her deeper and deeper.

Avendial moved towards the desk that had just been brought by the faculty members holding the box of clay. He moved towards it before taking out a small dough and placing it on the desk and looked towards all the students without glancing at Aria, as if ignoring her, he added, "Good morning everyone. This is Aven here, and I am your professor of Sculpture classes."

"P-professor?! Hey, isn't he too young?"

"Yeah, he looks like some movie star?"

"Are you kidding me?!"

A surge of murmurs spread across the class, with the students, who were in the age group of 19 to 20, astonished to look at their new professor, who didn't even appear to be more than 24 years old.