Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death

***

{Inside The Projection} 

Malik fluttered his eyes open, meeting the bright light of their star.

The dull ache of his entire body made even that feel like climbing a mountain.

He glanced down to see Sinbad staring up at him, still held to his chest, his wide, tear-filled eyes filled with so much emotion it almost made him wince.

"...You're crying again."

Malik's voice was a gravelly rasp as he forced himself to grin.

"What, you thought I was done for?"

Sinbad sniffled and swiped at his face with the back of his hand, his cheeks streaked with dirt and dried tears.

"You looked dead!"

Malik chuckled weakly.

"Dead people don't wake up, kiddo."

"You weren't even breathing!"

Sinbad shot back, his voice cracking halfway through like he was trying to yell and cry all at once.

"Eh, fair point."

Malik admitted, shifting just a little—and instantly regretting it.

Fresh waves of pain lit him up like fireworks, but he swallowed it down. 

"But hey, tenth time's the charm, right?"

Sinbad glared at him.

"Tenth time? I—I don't even know what the hell that's supposed to mean, but I can tell you right now, it's not funny."

"Never said it was."

Malik let his eyes drift shut for a few seconds like even keeping them open was exhausting.

That was when he noticed it—his left arm still wrapped around the kids.

With a groan, he released the two, who immediately flopped to the side.

He pushed himself up with his elbows, wincing as rising pain shot through him, but he ignored it.

Out of habit, his eyes scanned their surroundings before they landed on Huda.

"Guess you two decided I'm your personal heater, huh?"

She was curled up against his side, her small hand gripping what little was left of his tattered robes.

For a moment, a faint smile flickered across his face.

It wasn't much, but it was there.

Then his gaze shifted to Sinbad, and the smile vanished. 

A memory had made itself known in his mind. 

"...You okay? No Aether whips, broken bones, or anything?"

Sinbad hesitated, then nodded.

"I-I'm fine. Y-Y-Y-You?"

"Me?"

Malik let out a bitter laugh.

"I'm a walking disaster. Here, help me out."

Sinbad scrambled to his feet, wobbling slightly as he grabbed Malik's arm.

Together, they managed to get him sitting upright.

Malik hissed sharply, glancing down at his leg, where a bone was sticking out at an angle it definitely shouldn't have been.

"That... that doesn't look right."

Sinbad mumbled, looking like he might puke.

"Yeah, no kidding."

Malik said, reaching down and gripping the bone with both hands.

"Wait, what are you—?"

CRACK!

"FUUU—"

Malik bit down on his tongue, his vision swimming as he shoved the bone back into place.

He breathed heavily through his nose, the taste of blood on his tongue.

"Are you okay?!"

Sinbad stared at him, wide-eyed. 

"Peachy... Now, give me a second."

Tearing off a dangling part of his robe, Malik used it to clean the wounds on his back, wiping away any lingering blood.

Then, after a few minutes of cracking and shuffling, he managed to get to his feet, though every movement still sent incredible jolts of pain through his body.

"Alright, let me just..."

He leaned down, trying to scoop up Huda.

His arms tensed, but his body had other ideas.

The second he tried to lift her, his knees nearly buckled.

"Shit..."

Malik barely managed to stay upright, holding himself on a nearby tree.

He huffed in frustration, shaking his head.

"Okay, fine. Plan B. Come on, we need to find somewhere to hole up for a bit."

Sinbad didn't need a second reminder.

Silently, he knelt down, carefully scooping Huda up and slinging her onto his back.

Malik gave a nod, clearly grateful but too stubborn to say it outright.

He limped ahead, leading the way deeper into the patch of trees, while Sinbad followed close behind.

***

{Outside The Projection} 

"...Wow."

"It's no wonder he became the Sultan."

"After all that, he laughs it off like it's nothing. Even cracking jokes."

"Yeah, like it didn't even phase him."

"Is he really just a normal beggar? No way. Not even the toughest kids from the strongest families could pull that off."

"I mean, come on—his temperament? That's on another level. Honestly, it's better than half the rookies in our guild."

"Agreed. There's no way someone like him comes from nothing. No normal kid survives all that and still looks untouchable afterward."

Those who didn't hold much of a grudge against the Sultan started throwing out compliments.

But unlike Zafar's usual yes-men, these weren't just flattery—they were genuine.

Even though they all saw him as evil, their words couldn't stop slipping out, like their brains refused to deny what their minds believed.

Meanwhile, up front in the hall, a certain someone wasn't exactly joining in on the chatter.

She was curled up tight, her head buried between her knees. Her fingers gripped the fabric of her dress, and her eyes darted between the ground and the projection like she was trying to convince herself of something.

'I know... I know he didn't take them with me...'

It was Huda, and she was going through it.

'But... uncle was kind. He must've helped them out a lot before he left... He must've...'

She bit her lip hard, her breaths coming quicker, trying to steady herself.

'I'm sure.'

But no matter how much she tried to believe it, the tremble in her hands told a different story.

"...I'm sure."

***

{Inside The Projection} 

The center of the grove held a surprise.

Beneath the shade of the trees was a hidden entrance to an underground cave.

The cool air wafting from it was a blessing after the scorching heat outside.

Malik didn't hesitate, limping down the uneven slope with Sinbad and Huda close behind.

The cave was spacious, its walls glistening faintly with moisture.

Sinbad laid Huda down on a smooth patch of stone, and Malik lowered himself beside her with a groan.

He let his head fall back, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath.

It was quiet... peaceful.

'This... wait—no.'

But that feeling shattered when he finally noticed that Huda's skin was unnaturally warm.

Malik had realized it this late only because he seemed to have forgotten what 'cool' was.

And now, that he was reintroduced to it, he finally realized.

He touched her forehead, his heart sinking.

"She's burning up... probably sick since yesterday."

***

{Outside The Projection} 

"No wonder she didn't remember anything… she was sick the whole time."

"So you're telling me that they stayed there for long?"

"Maybe. At this point, we can't trust everything the Lady's said about this anymore."

It was subtle, whispered among only a few, but the doubt was spreading through the crowd like wildfire.

Time after time, Huda's words had been proven wrong, chipped away piece by piece, and now?

Now, they were finding out her uncle—the Goddamn Sultan himself—took forever just to reach the first layer of Al-Fawra.

'What's that?'

'A joke?'

'What, did he get stuck in traffic?'

Everyone knew better than to actually say the truth out loud, but it was clear enough.

Huda's camp knew that as well.

They couldn't say anything and neither could their Lady.

Huda was stiff and silent, her head down, her face pale.

She didn't meet anyone's gaze.

She didn't try to explain herself.

She just sat there, holding on to her knees like it was the only thing tethering her to reality, praying.

'Uncle... please!' 

Her thoughts screamed in her head.

'Just one thing. Let one thing be true. Please… otherwise… I don't know—'

Huda didn't know how much longer she could hold it together.

***

{Inside The Projection} 

Malik turned his head to tell Sinbad—but the boy was already asleep, curled up beside his sister, his exhaustion finally catching up to him.

"Figures."

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. 

"Mhhmmm..."

A faint whimper drew his attention back to Huda.

Her lips moved, barely forming words:

"Water... I need... water..."

Malik's chest tightened.

'Wait...'

He reached for the gourd tucked under his robe, only to find just a few bits of it remaining, dry bits at that.

"Damn it." 

Tossing the useless pieces aside, he got close to the wall and dragged himself up.

Malik then limped out of the cave, his body aching like he'd just wrestled a mountain—and lost.

Every step was a battle, his legs wobbling, threatening to buckle under him.

He stumbled through the grove, squinting at the shadows between the trees like they might suddenly cough up what he needed most.

"Come on, just one lousy fruit,"

Malik swiped at the lower branches.

His fingers brushed against dry bark and brittle leaves.

Not even an alien berry. Not even a bug.

The trees seemed to mock him, standing tall and useless.

"Of course... it's never easy."

He kicked at a root sticking out of the dirt, but immediately regretted it, hopping on one foot as pain shot through his toes.

"Ow! You stupid—argh!"

***

{Outside The Projection} 

Most people couldn't help it—they laughed, whether with him or at him, savoring the rare moments of levity.

"Ahahahaha! Even he could do things like that, huh?"

"Right? I almost forgot the Sultan was just a kid!"

"Yeah… it's hard to believe, especially with those eyes of his."

"The way he looked at those slave-traders—sheesh."

"Heh~ No kidding. It's like looking at two completely different people."

Even the ones once closest to him, his disciple and his ex-wife, who had spent the entire projection fighting back tears, found themselves smiling—soft, fragile smiles that betrayed a quiet relief.

For just a moment, the heavy, suffocating air of the hall lifted.

***

{Inside The Projection} 

Determined, or maybe just too stubborn to quit, Malik pressed on.

He clawed through shrubs, cursed at vines that snagged his robe, and even tried sniffing the air like some wild animal, hoping to catch a whiff of water.

Nothing. Not even a damp breeze.

And when he finally broke free of the grove, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"You've got to be kidding me."