Villain Hiring: Help! Author Wants Me Dead-Chapter 79 : The Seal

The doors shut behind me with a dull thud.

For a moment, I just stood there, blood dripping slowly from my shoulder as it soaked into my already messy cloak.

My grip on the assassin's corpse had loosened, but I still held him by the throat, his lifeless body hanging like a discarded doll. The guards who had followed me stayed outside, not daring to step in. Even they knew better than to cause a scene here.

The throne hall was just as I remembered.

A vast, open space lay before me, lined with towering black pillars that seemed to reach endlessly toward the ceiling.

The polished marble floor gleamed, reflecting the light of the massive, golden chandelier above—

At the far end of the room stood the throne itself.

Sculpted from black obsidian, edged with silver, it was a relic of the past—an ancient seat of power belonging to the head of the Romero family.

Empty.

Venus wasn't here yet.

I exhaled sharply, my breath echoing in the huge space. It smelled the same as always—sandalwood incense, burning embers, and something sharp, something heavy. The scent of power.

Eight years.

Eight years since I last stood in this place. Eight years since the day he exiled me.

I didn't know what I was expecting to feel. Regret? Bitterness? A sense of loss?

Nothing.

Nothing except the slow-burning anger in my chest, not for the past, not for the exile, but for what had just happened outside these halls.

An assassin had been waiting for us, hidden among the palace guards.

This could only mean that someone had let him in. Someone had arranged for him to be here.

And the worst part?

It wasn't even meant for me.

That blade had been aimed at her.

I clenched my jaw, my grip tightening on the assassin's limp throat.

Ma was still outside.

She had been the one to tell me to come in alone. She didn't want to step inside—not with the guards still watching, still listening.

And maybe she was right.

She had suffered enough for me.

For my mistakes.

But I had already made up my mind.

I wasn't going to let anyone else decide our fate ever again.

A flicker of movement snapped me out of my thoughts.

The double doors at the other end of the hall swung open, and heavy footsteps echoed against the white marble floor.

He was here.

Venus D. Romero.

The man who ruled over this estate with an iron grip, the man who had cast us aside just to keep us 'protected'.

And the man who, despite everything, I had no intention of killing.

His presence filled the room like a storm rolling in, dark and heavy.

The patriarch's black robes moved slightly as he walked, his long silver-streaked hair tied back in a loose knot.

With sharp, calculating, hazel eyes that locked onto mine the moment he stepped forward, Venus' gaze flickered briefly to the body I held before settling back on my face.

He didn't speak. Not yet.

Neither did I.

A long silence stretched between us, the tension so thick it could be cut with a knife.

Then, slowly, he tilted his head. "You've made quite the entrance."

His voice was the same. Deep. Calm. Detached.

I let go of the corpse.

The assassin's body collapsed to the floor with a dull thump, the blood from my shoulder wound dripping onto his already lifeless face.

"An assassin disguised as a palace guard," I said, voice flat. "Tried to kill my grandmother."

Venus's gaze darkened.

It was subtle. A flicker of something in his expression, a small shift in the way he stood. But I caught it.

A sliver of rage.

Not at me.

At the audacity.

Venus D. Romero might have exiled me. He might have cast me aside without hesitation. But if there was one thing the world knew about him, it was never to touch his wife.

That had always been it until he exiled me out of the house and Ma followed along.

Silence stretched again.

Then, after a long breath, Venus stepped forward, his boots clicking softly against the marble floor.

"I assume you didn't come here just to bring me a corpse," he said, stopping a few paces away.

"No."

"Then?"

I met his gaze, unwavering.

"You summoned us."

A pause.

Then he sighed. "I did."

Another pause.

Venus's gaze flickered to the body at my feet. Then, ever so slightly, his brows furrowed.

No wounds.

No blood.

Just a lifeless corpse, untouched—except for my hand wrapped around his throat.

His eyes returned to mine. "How?"

I didn't answer.

I didn't need to.

Venus studied me for a long moment. Then, finally, he exhaled. "I assume you didn't come here just to deliver a corpse."

I took a step forward. "No."

"Then why?"

I didn't hesitate.

"Remove the seal on Ma, Patriarch Romero."

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The hall fell silent.

Venus's expression didn't change. But something about the way he stood, the slight shift of his weight, the faint tightening of his jaw— told me he wasn't expecting that.

Not a greeting.

Not a word of acknowledgment.

Just a simple, demand.

Something flickered in his black eyes. Something sharp.

A bitter chuckle left his lips. "You walk into my palace, kill my guard, and then make demands of me? Is that how you were taught to ask for favors, young man?"

I didn't react.

His words were bait.

He wanted me to get angry. He wanted me to slip, to show emotion, to prove that I was still that same sickly, powerless boy from eight years ago.

I simply pointed at the dead man. "That man is from the Assassins Guild," I said, my voice steady.

"Someone inside your palace let him in."

The amusement vanished from Venus's face, it seemed that he still had a hard time believing my words.

His gaze flickered to the corpse again, fingers twitching ever so slightly.

I could see the calculations running through the man's mind until finally, the realization set in.

If I was telling the truth, then that meant someone close to him had betrayed him.

But that wasn't my concern.

I took another step forward.

"I don't care about the Assassins Guild," I said flatly. "I'll deal with them myself. But the seal on my grandma? That's something only you can remove."

My hazel eyes met his black ones.

"Do it."

Another demand.

Venus exhaled slowly.

For the first time since stepping into this hall, something in his expression shifted.

Not anger.

Not calculation.

But something deeper.

Something that almost looked like regret.

He studied me, his gaze searching, as if he was looking for something—something familiar.

Something that no longer existed.

Then, quietly, he muttered under his breath.

"...You're just like your father."

The words should have meant nothing to me.

But they didn't.

Because for the first time since arriving at this estate, I saw it in his face.

The realization.

The acceptance.

The fact that the Noah he once knew no longer existed.

***