MTL - I Have A Pair of Yin-Yuan Eyes - Chapter 63

In this world riddled with strife, where even kids know spells, and powerful mages are nobility, Cael was born with no mana at all. An heir to the family of mages, he was his father’s disappointment, and his city’s laughingstock. But who knew that he had a much different destiny? To prevent a looming catastrophe no one else knows about—to stop the Starspawn.

“Blood Mage System activated. Greetings, user. I am your Blood Mage System. Consume the blood of powerful creatures to purchase new abilities.”

With that power, Cael will become a hero able to stand against the fate that crushed countless others—even if the world will call him a demon instead.

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“Uncle Morgan... it's you!” Chloe Leung initially wanted to flirt with her crush but ended up flirting with the poker-faced uncle who had raised her for ten years, leaving her dumbfounded. Her first reaction... run!Helplessly, she could escape the monk, but not the temple, and she was caught before even leaving the house, “Did you think you could run after doing something bad?”Chloe Leung cried with a mournful face, “Then... what do you want to do?”The man smiled meaningfully, “Let's see how you behave!”

I possessed an extra character who is a villainess in a novel.

I tried to live a quiet life without getting involved with the main character.

“If you run away again, I’ll tie you up and take you to the palace.”

The second prince, who only looked at the original heroine, is obsessed with me.

“I didn’t do it for you, so don’t get me wrong.”

My self-proclaimed rival seems to have a crush on me.

“Ahh! She’s so beautiful!”

“If only I had been hit by her magic once!”

Suddenly, there is a fan club.

“Come, let us all pray reverently while looking at the picture of the noble Yerine.”

My favorite heroine became the president of the fan club.

…… Am I really the villainess?

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.