The Worst Villain is Actually a Cute Girl-Chapter 38

The sun was blazing.

Everyone was gathered at the secret base.

Under the sunlight pouring in through the gaping hole in the ceiling, they were all playing a special kind of game.

Each of the kids had a stick in their mouth.

At a signal, they blew out—and bubbles streamed from the ends of the sticks.

It was a bubble toy Red had brought.

But it wasn’t just a simple toy.

The shape of the bubbles changed depending on the imagination of the one blowing them.

Sure enough, all kinds of large and small bubbles filled the air, shaped by the children’s creativity.

Rabbits, tigers, bears, cakes, bread, stars—an entire ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) sky of different forms.

“...What is that?”

Following Rena’s pointing finger, I saw a bubble that looked suspiciously like my face.

Seriously, what even is that.

I could pretty much guess who made it. Glancing over at the boys, I saw one of them proudly rubbing his nose.

Ugh.

I bit the stick and gave a sharp blow.

A bubble shaped like my imagination—sharp and jagged—flew out and popped the other one.

“Aaaah... I worked so hard on that!”

Groans erupted from the boys.

The girls giggled.

Just then, a strong gust of wind came whooshing through.

The bubbles were lifted up toward the open sky, riding the breeze.

The children stared in awe at the countless shimmering bubbles catching the sunlight.

As I blew another bubble, the others got excited and started blowing even more.

Bubble bubble, sparkle sparkle.

Bubble bubble, sparkle sparkle.

Everyone wore happy smiles as their eyes and hearts were captivated by the beautiful scene.

The sound of cheerful laughter drifted up into the clear sky along with the bubbles.

“I hope days like this never end.”

Yeah, me too.

Rena's murmured wish was one I shared.

I hoped this peaceful moment would last a long, long time.

*

A tense silence hung between the two men.

Grey, the High Priest and leader of the Reaper Cult, stared at the man who had come to see him.

Black hair. Slitted eyes like a snake.

His elegant face gave off a gentle, serene smile. He looked soft, but there was something chilling behind that expression.

A man like a snake—impossible to read.

Because of that, Grey didn’t lower his guard. Unlike the man who greeted him cheerfully, Grey maintained a heavy, formal air.

But even in the presence of Grey’s intimidating aura, the man seemed completely unfazed.

He kept that gentle smile on his lips, slowly shaking his head.

“Isn’t it a little stiff between friends? Loosen up a little.”

“Friends... I don’t think that term fits our relationship.”

“Well, maybe we’re not friends in the usual sense. But we’re both hoping for the same thing, aren’t we?”

“The same thing?”

“Yeah. You and I—we both want the Reaper to descend.”

“...”

Grey’s eyes dropped slightly.

He fell into thought, recalling the first time they met.

Back when the Reaper Cult had just formed, the man had approached him, introducing himself as "Prophet."

He offered to lend his wisdom to help the cult achieve its cause.

They had needed people, so the cult accepted him.

And from that point on, the Prophet used his insight to guide the cult’s rapid growth.

According to him, he could read the flow of the world.

In other words—he could see the future.

And time and again, events played out just as he’d predicted.

It was too accurate to chalk up to coincidence.

Recognizing his contributions and mysterious power, the Reaper Cult had granted him the title "Bearer of True Wisdom."

In truth, Prophet was practically the cult’s savior.

Without him, they would never have grown this strong.

But even so, Grey never grew fond of him.

Grey lifted his gaze and met the Prophet’s eyes.

“It’s true we share the same wish. But wanting the same thing doesn’t mean we go about it the same way. The Reaper Cult seeks to bring peace and rest to the world through death. You—you're after destruction.”

Same goal, different path.

That small divergence could be what causes a fatal rift between them in the end.

They weren’t friends.

They simply needed each other, used each other, for mutual benefit.

If that benefit vanished—or if the goal was met—they could stab each other in the back without a second thought.

Grey acknowledged the Prophet’s devotion, but a man who hid his true intentions could never be fully trusted. So his guard remained up.

To Grey’s thinly veiled warning, the Prophet simply shrugged.

“Isn’t it all the same? We’re heading for the same finish line, anyway.”

“Whatever. If you’re asking—yes, it happened just like you said. Isaac fell into the hands of the crime killer.”

“False wisdom spills blood across the earth so that death may stand. The role of false wisdom is to be pierced by the hand of justice. Heh heh heh... he was a very useful man.”

A twisted smile curled on the Prophet’s lips.

Grey nodded in agreement.

“A foolish man. That made him easy to use.”

“He probably thought he was using us. But in the end, he never realized—not even at the moment of his death—that he’d been dancing in the palm of our hands all along.”

Isaac had been a valuable card.

His strength, wealth, and access to information—

They’d exploited it all to set their plan in motion.

And once he died, the world fell into deeper chaos.

He was still useful even in death.

“Now only one prophecy remains for us. We just need to break the faith of the one who carried out justice—and turn their fist toward the city.”

“Exactly. Then, just as we hoped, the Reaper will descend upon this land.”

The Prophet sat on a shabby bench.

He stretched both arms up and let out a groan.

“Things are going to get busy.”

“But it won’t be as easy as you make it sound. That one’s willpower is incredibly strong. We might be the ones broken by her fist.”

Red was strong—both in body and mind.

Her strength was destructive, and many who had been close to her had already fallen.

Even now, even in this moment.

Of course, the more Red got involved with them, the better.

The more contact they had, the more chances they had to cloud her heart.

But her mind was like a fortress, and breaking through it was no easy task.

To Grey’s concern, the Prophet just laughed and waved his hand.

“Don’t worry.”

As he said that, he cracked one eye open.

A crimson eye was revealed.

Grey instinctively furrowed his brow at the sight of that blood-colored gaze.

It was unnervingly red.

The Prophet smiled softly—but with those eyes, the smile looked wicked.

“Corruption only needs a little push from behind. Then they fall on their own.”

“You’re underestimating her strength of will. That kind of arrogance could be what leads us to failure.”

“Maybe. But in this kind of world, goodwill doesn’t last long. The more righteous they are, the harder they fall.”

For just a moment, his usual tone shifted. The air felt serious, so Grey asked,

“...Is that from personal experience?”

“Who knows.”

The Prophet closed his eyes again, casually shrugging.

“Anyway, no need to worry. Besides, we’ve got some reliable friends, don’t we?”

He turned his head to the side.

Grey followed his gaze.

Two figures stepped out from the shadows beyond the reach of the candlelight.

Recognizing their faces, Grey narrowed his eyes.

“The surviving members of the Seven Deadly Sins...”

The Seven Deadly Sins.

A title used to describe criminals whose influence ranked just below the four major organizations of the underworld.

Five of the seven had already been taken down by Red.

Only now did Grey understand why the Prophet had been absent from meetings lately.

The Prophet introduced the two new arrivals with a cheerful tone.

“Greed and Wrath. I went through hell trying to befriend those two.”

“If they’re with us, they’ll definitely strengthen our forces. But... can we trust them? Their ambitions are nothing like ours.”

Wanting to be the best, to gain power, to sit at the top.

Most people are ruled by desire.

Like those in the dark who yearn for the light.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The people of the underworld are especially prone to that kind of hunger.

And among them, the Seven Sins stood at the peak of desire.

Honest about what they craved, relentless in chasing their dreams.

In other words, they were obsessed with life.

The complete opposite of the Reaper Cult, which longed for the end.

Could those kinds of people truly support the resurrection of the Reaper?

Understanding his concern, the Prophet waved his hand dismissively.

“It’s fine. They have a common enemy with us. You know what they say—‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend.’”

“If you say so...”

Grey set aside his unease.

Since it was the Prophet’s doing, he trusted it would be handled well.

With the prayer finished, Grey started walking toward the exit of the cathedral.

Then, as if something occurred to him, he paused and turned his head.

“Come to think of it, what about that list Isaac compiled? The one with people he said we should keep an eye on?”

“Oh, that? We can toss it. Wasn’t it just something we played along with to keep Isaac fooled?”

“...I see.”

Grey fell into thought, recalling a particular girl Isaac had kept an eye on.

His odd demeanor made the Prophet tilt his head curiously.

“Why? Did you notice something unusual?”

“No. Just thinking of using someone who might be useful to our plans. But since it could affect your prophecy, I figured I’d ask first.”

“Oh? No problem. If you think she’s worth using, do as you like.”

“Got it.”

With that, Grey left.

*

Left alone in the cathedral, the Prophet sent the two others away as well.

The quiet returned.

Standing up from the bench, the Prophet approached the statue of the Reaper.

—Just because we share the same wish doesn’t mean we seek the same thing. We of the Reaper Cult seek peace and rest for the earth through death. But you—you desire destruction.

Grey’s words echoed faintly in his mind, bringing a faint smirk to the Prophet’s lips.

He bowed his head low.

One hand braced against the statue, the other covering his mouth.

A quiet, disturbing laugh slipped out, breaking the stillness.

His hands and shoulders began to tremble.

The more he laughed, the more a black aura seeped out of his body.

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The cold, solemn atmosphere inside the cathedral turned even heavier and darker under the pressure of that sinister energy.

Only after laughing for a long while did the darkness around him disperse.

Lowering his hand, the Prophet stared up at the statue of the Reaper.

His tightly shut eyes slowly opened.

The red in his irises was brutally cold.

“Hahaha... how utterly pathetic. Even if you give death meaning, it’s still just death. I wonder if the Reaper intends to assign it some divine significance, too?”

The doctrines of the Reaper Cult were laughable.

Death was simply death.

Nothing more, nothing less.

“Hey, Reaper. If you’re really a god, can you tell me why I ended up in this world?”

The Prophet’s mind drifted to the past.

He’d been walking while reading a webtoon on his phone when suddenly there was a loud noise, and his vision went white.

And when he opened his eyes, he was in a different world.

He had transmigrated.

Right into the world of the webtoon he’d just been reading.

No answer came to his cold, bitter question.

The statue’s mouth remained still.

He hadn’t expected a reply anyway. With a sigh, he shut his eyes.

Then turned his back without a second thought.

“Good riddance to that troublesome bastard.”

Isaac had been a support character in the webtoon.

His arrogant personality was a flaw, sure—but because he was a transmigrator, he knew more than most, had decent abilities, and ended up helping the protagonist.

A troublesome obstacle to the Prophet’s plans.

The Prophet smiled, pleased.

His footsteps echoed boldly through the cathedral.

Drawing nearer to the door—closer to the goal.

Everything was for one thing.

Bits and pieces of the webtoon’s plot came back to him.

In the dystopian world, the protagonist was supposed to spread hope, aided by Grey, a religious figure.

Normally, someone like the Prophet—armed with knowledge and power—would take the main role, or become a loyal supporter.

But he chose a different path.

He killed the protagonist with his own hands, all for his goal.

Drove Grey into madness.

Twisted the original story completely out of shape.

I’ll never forgive this city that threw me away.

Behind that bright, friendly smile was a seething thirst for revenge.

The Prophet shoved the doors open and stepped into the world outside.