My Ambition of Being the Villain King

Chapter 8: The Cost of Existence

Kael's POV

I woke three days later in a room I didn't recognize.

Sunlight streamed through a window, painfully bright after the darkness I'd been floating in. My entire body felt like one massive bruise, and when I tried to move my left arm, white-hot agony shot through me so intensely I gasped.

"Don't move, you idiot." My father's voice, rough with exhaustion and relief.

I turned my head, slowly, and saw him sitting in a chair beside the bed. He looked terrible. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face unshaven, his clothes rumpled like he'd been wearing them for days. Which, I realized, he probably had been.

"Father…"

"You nearly died." His voice cracked. "The healer said if Aldric had found you five minutes later, you would have bled out in those woods."

Memory returned in fragmented pieces. The Scriptbeasts. The fight. Aldric's golden sword cutting through shadow.

"Where am I?"

"The healer's house. Garrick paid for your treatment." My father leaned forward, taking my good hand in both of his. "Kael, why didn't you wait for me? Why did you walk through those woods alone?"

"I didn't think…"

"No, you didn't think. And you almost died because of it." Tears ran down his scarred face. "I can't lose you. You're all I have left in this world."

Guilt twisted in my chest, somehow worse than the physical pain. "I'm sorry."

We sat in silence for a long moment, father and son, both damaged by a world that had no place for people like us.

Finally, he spoke again. "The Scriptbeasts came because of what you are. The healer confirmed it, errors attract corrupted fate magic like wounds attract infection. As long as you exist, you'll be in danger."

"I know."

"No, I don't think you do." His grip on my hand tightened. "I've been asking around, talking to people who know about these things. Errors don't live long, Kael. Most die in childhood from Scriptbeast attacks or accidents arranged by fate itself trying to correct its mistake. The few who survive to adulthood go mad from the strain of existing against the universe's will."

Each word landed like a hammer blow. "So what are you saying? That I should just give up? Let fate kill me?"

"I'm saying I'm terrified." His voice broke completely. "I'm saying I don't know how to protect you from a threat that exists because you exist. I'm saying I'm failing you every single day, and I don't know how to stop."

I'd never seen my father cry before. Not when my mother died. Not when we were driven from Thornwick. Not through any of the hardships we'd endured. But he cried now, and it shattered something inside me.

"You're not failing me," I said quietly. "You've given me everything. A home. Training. A reason to keep fighting. That's more than anyone else in this world would do for an Error."

"It's not enough."

"It's enough for me."

The door opened before he could respond. Aldric entered carrying a bowl of soup and stopped short when he saw I was awake.

"You're conscious! Thank the gods." He set the soup down and pulled up another chair. "How do you feel?"

"Like I fought three Scriptbeasts and barely survived."

"Technically, you did survive. That counts as winning." His attempt at humor couldn't hide the concern in his eyes. "What were you thinking, taking them on alone?"

"I didn't have much choice. They found me."

Aldric's expression grew serious. "They found you because they're drawn to Errors. Garrick explained it to me. Your existence disrupts the natural flow of fate, and creatures corrupted by fate magic can sense that disruption. You're like a beacon to them."

"I know."

"Do you? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're trying to get yourself killed." He leaned forward. "Kael, you can't keep walking around alone. Not anymore. These attacks will only get worse as you get older and your Error nature becomes stronger."

My father nodded agreement. "He's right. We need to take precautions."

"What kind of precautions?" I asked, though I suspected I knew the answer.

"You need a bodyguard," Aldric said bluntly. "Someone Script-blessed who can protect you when the Scriptbeasts come. Someone strong enough to handle threats you can't."

The idea made my skin crawl. "I don't want to be a burden that needs protecting."

"Too late," Aldric said, not unkindly. "You already are. The question is whether you're too proud to accept help, or smart enough to stay alive."

I wanted to argue. Wanted to insist that I could handle myself, that I didn't need someone to fight my battles. But the bandages covering most of my body told a different story.

"I can't afford a bodyguard," I said instead. "We barely have enough for food and lodging."

"Already taken care of," Aldric replied. "I convinced my father to hire you as my training partner. Official position, regular wages. And as my training partner, you'll need to be with me most of the time anyway. Protection disguised as employment."

I stared at him. "Why? Why would you do this for me?"

"Because you're my friend," he said simply. "And because my Script says I'm supposed to save people. Might as well start with someone I actually like."

My father's expression showed profound relief. "Kael, please. Accept his offer. For my sake if not your own."

I looked between them, my father, worn down by worry, and Aldric, the blessed Hero offering salvation to the cursed Error. Everything in me wanted to refuse, to prove I didn't need help, to demonstrate that I could survive on my own strength.

But that was pride talking, and pride was a luxury I couldn't afford.

"Alright," I said quietly. "I accept. And thank you."

Aldric grinned. "Don't thank me yet. Being my training partner means I get to beat you up legally every day. You might regret this."

Despite everything, I almost smiled. "I already regret it."

"That's the spirit." He stood and headed for the door. "Rest up. The healer says you need at least another week before you can start training again. I'll come by tomorrow with more food and probably some books. You're going to be bored out of your mind."

After he left, my father and I sat in comfortable silence. The room felt warmer somehow, less oppressive than before.

"He's a good boy," my father said eventually. "His Script might say he's destined for greatness, but I think he'd be a good person regardless."

I nodded, too tired to speak. My eyes were already growing heavy.

"Sleep," my father said gently. "I'll be here when you wake up."

As I drifted off, I thought about Aldric's offer and what it meant. I was becoming dependent on the Hero, tying my survival to his protection. Some distant part of me recognized the danger in that, what would happen if he ever decided I wasn't worth protecting anymore?

But that was a problem for future Kael to worry about. Present Kael just needed to survive long enough to see tomorrow.

And tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow after that.

Until either the world accepted my existence, or I became strong enough to make acceptance irrelevant.