For a long moment, I just stared at the glowing red text hanging in my vision. The pain in my head was a dull, throbbing drumbeat, but this… this was sharper. Weirder.
It felt more real than the sticky pool of my own blood I could feel cooling on the side of my face.
A hallucination. The thought was a weak whisper in the storm of my mind. That's all it is. I'm dying, and my brain is short-circuiting.
But the screen didn't flicker. It didn't fade. It was as solid and unyielding as the linoleum floor I was lying on.
[New User detected. Welcome, Host.]
[Distributing New User Starter Pack…]
[100 Villainess Points (VP) have been credited to your account.]
[Basic System Store unlocked.]
[First Mission Generated.]
The words scrolled with a chilling efficiency. A small icon that looked like a shopping cart appeared in the bottom right corner of the screen, and next to it, a number: VP: 100.
My gaze drifted past the impossible screen to the very real figures of my tormentors. Mark was kicking at a fallen stack of instant noodle cups, laughing.
"Did you see her face? She just… dropped. Pathetic."
"Think she's dead?" one of his cronies asked, a sliver of nervousness in his voice.
"Nah," Mark scoffed. "Freaks like her are tough. Come on, let's get out of here before the cameras flag something."
They were going to leave. They were going to walk away, leaving me bleeding on the floor, and they would face zero consequences.
They'd go back to their expensive homes, sleep in their comfortable beds, and maybe tell this story for a laugh tomorrow.
The injustice of it was a poison, more potent than my despair. A hot, familiar rage began to bubble up from the pit of my stomach, eclipsing the pain.
It was that rage that made me focus on the screen again. On the new box of text that had appeared.
[First Mission: A Villain's Debut]
[Description: A true villain never allows herself to be trampled. Those who have wronged you are still within reach. Teach them a lesson they will never forget. Make them feel a sliver of the fear they so gleefully inflict on others.]
[Objective: Incapacitate your attackers before they leave the store.]
[Reward: 50 VP, System Feature Unlock.]
[Failure Penalty: System will enter a dormant state for one year.]
A dormant state? An entire year of being alone with this memory, with the knowledge that I had a chance to do something and failed? The thought was terrifying.
But what can I do? I was weak, injured. I couldn't even stand.
As if hearing my thoughts, the screen changed.
[Host is critically injured and lacks the means to complete the objective. Opening Basic System Store for assistance.]
The screen flickered, replaced by a simple, list-based menu.
[Basic System Store - Items under 100 VP]
[Item: Minor Healing Potion (Grade F)]
Description: Heals minor cuts and bruises. Tastes faintly of cherries and regret.
Cost: 50 VP
[Skill: Terrifying Gaze (Grade F - 5-minute rental)]
Description: For five minutes, your gaze can instill deep, primal fear in anyone you make eye contact with. Side effects may include nightmares (for them, not you). However, they will never remember who infected them with those nightmares.
Cost: 70 VP
[Item: Voice of the Damned (Grade F - Single Use)]
Description: A one-time use item that grants the user a voice. The voice is… unsettling. Allows the user to speak a single sentence with paranormal resonance. Can make those who hear it freeze when they try to expose the host.
Cost: 100 VP
My eyes locked on the third item. A voice. It was offering me a voice.
For my entire life, I had been trapped in silence, my thoughts and feelings locked in a cage of flesh and bone.
The desire for it was so overwhelming, so absolute, that it felt like a physical hunger.
But it cost everything I had. 100 VP. It would leave me with nothing.
Mark and his friends were at the door now, pushing it open. The cheerful little bell chimed again, mocking me. I was out of time.
Do it. The decision wasn't even a conscious thought; it was an instinct. A primal scream from the silent part of my soul.
As I focused my intent on the third option, the red screen flashed.
[Confirm purchase of 'Voice of the Damned (Grade F)' for 100 VP?]
Yes! I screamed in my head. YES!
[Purchase confirmed. VP: 0. Item has been activated.]
A strange energy, cold and electric, flooded my throat. It felt like swallowing ice and static. The muscles in my larynx, dormant for sixteen years, twitched and seized.
It didn't hurt. It felt… powerful.
I pushed myself up, my arms trembling under my own weight. The movement was clumsy, weak, but I got onto my knees.
Blood dripped from my hair onto the floor, but the pain in my head was a distant echo. All I could feel was the thrumming power in my throat.
Mark, halfway out the door, glanced back. His eyes widened slightly in surprise when he saw me kneeling there, staring at him.
"What the hell? She's still kicking."
I opened my mouth.
For sixteen years, no sound had ever come out. Not a cry, not a whisper, not a whimper. But now… now there was something.
The word that emerged wasn't my voice. It couldn't have been. It was a sound dredged from the bottom of a forgotten well, a chorus of grating whispers and deep, resonant echoes all layered on top of each other.
It was a sound that didn't belong in the sterile, brightly-lit world of a convenience store. It was the sound of scraping gravestones and rustling shadows.
"Get. Back. Here."
The three words hung in the air, vibrating with an unnatural power. They weren't loud, but they filled the entire space, worming their way directly into the ears of my tormentors.
Mark and his friends froze solid. The colour drained from their faces, replaced by a waxy, pale sheen of pure terror.
They turned around slowly, their movements stiff and robotic, like puppets on a string. Their eyes were wide with a horror that I had only ever seen in movies.
They weren't looking at a bullied, mute girl anymore. They were looking at something else. Something wrong.
I was still on my knees, blood matting my hair, but in that moment, I felt taller than I had ever been in my life.
The fear coming off them was a palpable thing, a scent in the air, and it was intoxicating. It was the opposite of the despair I had felt just moments before.
It was… vindication.