I Will Create a Good Ending for the Yandere Villainess-Chapter 89: Mistfilled Hall? [Skippable] (edited)

A/N

This chapter is skippable if you don’t wish to waste any of your fast passes or coins.

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[3rd POV]

From an infinite height, above the artificial clouds of the Academy Realm, was a small swirl of pure greenish energy.

It hovered in the air, tilted slightly downwards, facing seemingly nothing.

It had the energy of a disastrous Gate—this world’s inhabitants have come to know so much—but it didn’t infect its surroundings with its festering aura.

No...

Instead, if one were capable of sight that was able to look past the clouds and make out the little blurry humanoid figures below, one would find it to be staring at a group of three commuting to a large modern academic building.

While it remained inactive, it suddenly shifted colour—one to a more blueish shade—and now displayed an eye at its core.

The eye darted around, seemingly being able to look across the realm like it was a mere playset before disappearing into the portal.

The gate’s mere purpose of surveillance was then crushed as it folded in on itself, disappearing without a trace.

***

In a hall coated with dense mist and decorated with mirrors, walked a lonesome figure with indescernible features.

Features that can’t be reflected off the polished wall of luxurious and plain mirrors. Like a vampire before a mirror, it couldn’t display the appearance of this figure—but it was more accurate to say that it refused.

All that could be seen was a cloak of smoke wrapped around its body, hiding it from the world as it stood before an exaggerated gate with deep illustrations etched into its smoothed stone surface.

It depicted emotional tales of a great war with its detailed characters down to their wrinkles and miniature fingers on their many arms.

It was a war between four factions, with one of them standing at the very centre of it all with clear excitement in their faces.

This brave faction had a mere number of 5 members compared to the overwhelming numbers of the other three.

One was in the form of a young girl in a frilly dress and pigtails, wielding a beautiful greatsword, whose design gave off an imposing aura. However, its wielder’s illustration gave off one on a much higher magnitude.

Another was a tall man with an unbuttoned shirt, revealing his defined muscular body underneath as he wore a charming nightcap.

He was shown to be yawning but like the girl beside him, excitement burned in his eyes like a never-ending flame.

This man too gave off an imposing aura despite his unserious appearance in the great war. But it was much less compared to the young girl on his left.

On his right, however, was a charming young man dressed in a professional outfit consisting of a suit and tie with an old-fashioned cane in his hand.

This chap also held another old-fashioned item in his hand—a trinket, you could say—which seems to be an old-timey pocket watch.

And the aura emitted from this young man dwarfed the other two.

But it was overshadowed by the next two whose appearances were much grander and luxurious.

On the right of the young girl stood a tall woman with a mature figure and stoic face—a face of supreme beauty.

She wore a long dress that trailed behind her and was illustrated to have stars mixed in with its design.

And over her eyes was a plain bandaged blindfold, something out of place with her appearance but had much more significance than meets the eye.

Just like those beside her exuded an overwhelming presence, so did she but one only being surpassed by an entity, who stood behind them with an ominous and mysterious mask.

The mask Lillian would come to know to be the Mask of Deceit.

Other than the mask, there wasn’t much else about the entity. Not whether it had arms... legs... or even if it had a body or not.

Only the mask to show that they existed.

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The smokey figure grunted in a deep masculine voice—pushing against the grand stone gates with his arms that seemed to also be hidden with smoke.

He pushed and he pushed. The grand stone gates screeched against the black-marbled floor.

Soon enough when a large enough gap had formed between the two doors, the figure walked in—stepping into a grand hall.

A grand hall lined with black marbled pillars on the side, stretching towards the sky at assumably infinite height—hidden by the dark misty ceiling that shrouded their peaks.

Under this ceiling and at the centre of the hall was a large round table with stone thrones for seats.

In total, there were about five seats—three having been taken before eventually the smokey figure took his seat at his respective throne.

He looked to his left and saw a blonde young girl just like in the deep illustration on the gate. The only thing different about her was the long, narrow jagged scar across her face.

She stared at the smoke-covered individual with a cheeky grin.

"Looks like you finally decided to join us, S.T~"

The smokey figure—identified as S.T.—grunted.

"I had important matters before this, S.O. So this better be important."

S.T. then listened to an irritating snore to his far right.

He stared at the next throne and saw a tall brunette man clutching a pillow in his arms, rubbing his face against it.

"And why is this idiot still asleep?" he groaned, slamming his fist against the table angrily, "WAKE UP, S.D.!"

The vibrations sent across the table caused the sleeping man’s eyes to flutter groggily awake.

The sleeping man—identified as S.D.—groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"Must you be so loud...? I prefer S.W. more..."

S.D. sat up, leaning his back against the backrest and revealing a hideous scar on his bare chest.

"Oh quit your whining. We’re here for a meeting aren’t we?" he scolded before turning towards the last individual he had yet to speak to.

A woman with long glistening black hair, which seemed to embody the concepts of the starry skies, paid him no attention. Instead, she fiddled with a dull-looking chess piece.

Although her eyes were covered, it seemed as though she could see everything that was going on.

S.T.’s unexposed eyes twitched.

"Well?" he urged.

The woman finally threw him a look, before smiling playfully.

"Yes... you might say this is an important meeting. If—of course—you consider the new variable important..."

"Huh... we’re here to talk about that thing? I have already lent you a speck of the damn parasite’s power to bestow on your plaything. Why am I still called here, S.F.?"

S.O. snickered beside him.

"It’s not like you have a choice, S.T... she’s your superior, after all."

He slammed his fist against the table once more, causing it to shudder.

"That’s a shitty reason and you know it!"

He then turned towards S.F.—the lady with the blindfold—and said:

"And why’d you hand over something like parasitism to her? There were countless other entertaining rewards in your collection and you decided to choose the dullest from mine?"

S.F. shrugged.

"Perhaps she would find an interesting application of it." she said, staring at the twitching face of the smokey figure.

The young girl to the side then spoke up:

"If it’s about your creation, can we leave now? I doubt we have to go further into detail about her."

S.D. also chimed into the conversation in a slurry voice:

"Yeeeah... can we just... go...?"

"Oh~? You guys aren’t interested as well? How disappointing... oh well... I only needed you two here so S.W. can stay." S.F. shooed them away.

Once the two had finally gone, S.T. stared back at her frustratingly.

"It’s S.T.! Not a W!" he yelled.

S.F. rolled her eyes.

"I’m much used to calling you, S.W.... where did that respectful young man go, I wonder?"

"Stuff it, Hag and tell me wh—"

BOOM!

"Ugh..."

S.T.’s back was slammed against the black marbled wall with a slender hand clutching his neck, which was coated in a thin layer of bluish energy.

CRACK!

The wall behind him cracked from the pressure.

He stared down at S.F.’s nonchalant yet playful smile she was giving him.

"You know I hate that word, S.T...."

With a stifled voice, he murmured:

"For—one governing over fate, you sure as hell ain’t patient...!"

S.F. tightened her grip over his neck.

"It all depends on perspective, S.T...."

Before eventually letting go—letting him drop to the ground.

He coughed, rubbing his neck before facing up at S.F.’s back that was turned on him—her dress swerving around to follow after her.

With her arms crossed behind her back, she spoke:

"What I want you to do, S.W., is to infect the Jester a bit more with whatever corruption we have currently."

This time, S.T. didn’t speak up when she referred to him with a ’W’. Instead, he widened his eyes at her, "Why this cycle? Is there a need to? This is irreversible and you know it."

S.F. just shrugged.

"Entertainment. And who cares... it’s not living anyway. We’re the ones who made it."

"We still need the other members to confirm this act—"

He then felt a hand clutch his shoulder and a brief cool breeze washing over his smokey body.

"No need..." she said calmly, clutching his shoulder with increasing pressure.

"Just do what I say... it’ll lead us closer to our goal, young Will..."

"Argh! Fine!" he broke, brushing off her hand and getting up, "I’ll do as you say but if those damn Hopeful catch wind of this then I’m dropping you under the chariot."

"People these days say "under the bus", my dear~..."

"You know what I mean!"

Soon after, the hall was left empty as S.T.’s footsteps finally faded.

All that was left in the misty meeting hall was S.F., who wandered around the round table, taking in its sight before stopping at an empty throne.

She stroked the armrest with a sentimental look, "Don’t worry... love... just a little longer..."

She then held up her hand and gazed into an ethereal orb that displayed a familiar white-haired girl.

"Yes... just a little longer..."