Villain Hiring: Help! Author Wants Me Dead

My heart raced as I stared at the glowing texts, my eyes darting across the blurry words as I continued to decipher them without a pause.

I wanted to know what happened next.

No.

I NEEDED TO KNOW.

The faint silence that had filled the room lingered in my ears, with only the sound of pages being turned audible.

"...Fuckk," I breathed, the word slipping out like a prayer to whatever gods might be watching.

But before I could further make sense of the situation, the book mysterious book began to glow brighter—much brighter.

The dim light that had previously filled the room was now drowned out by the overwhelming 'blackness' emanating from the book.

It was blinding, consuming everything in its path. The glow cast long, eerie shadows that danced along the walls of my room.

And then I felt it—a sharp, insistent pull at the cut on my finger. My blood.

My eyes widened in horror as the crimson droplet, barely visible against the blinding light, was sucked into the book's pages at a frantic speed.

It wasn't just a drop anymore.

The pull grew stronger, fiercer, until I felt the sting deepen, the wound widening as more blood spilled out, flowing toward the book like it was alive, hungry.

"No, no, no!" I gasped, panic clawing at my chest as I tried to pull my hand away. But it wouldn't move.

My fingers were glued to the book, the skin fused to the cover as if the damn thing had become an extension of my body.

My other hand shot out, gripping the wooden table to Steady myself.

But it didn't help.

A wave of dizziness hit me like a freight train, and I felt my legs give out entirely.

My vision blurred at the edges, the room spinning wildly around me as if I were on some nightmarish carnival ride.

Stay conscious, Noah. Stay conscious. Don't pass out. Whatever you do, don't—

A sharp pain erupted in my skull, cutting off my thoughts like a blade.

It was like someone had taken a hammer and smashed it on my head, each strike heavier and more relentless than the last.

I groaned, my voice barely audible over the deafening roar in my ears.

My grip on the table tightened, knuckles white as I clung to it like lifeline.

But it wasn't enough.

I felt my head lurch forward, my forehead slamming against the rough wooden surface with a dull thud.

The impact barely registered against the ringing pain inside my head.

My eyes fluttered half-open, struggling to stay focused as the world around me dissolved into a hazy blur.

I could still see the book, its glow piercing through the haze like a beacon.

The pages were flipping by themselves, one after another, faster and faster, the sound of paper rustling filled the room like wings of a thousand birds taking flight.

Stop... I wanted to shout, to scream, to do anything to make the pages stop turning.

I was scared that they may never open again, but my throat was dry, my voice caught somewhere deep within me, unable to break free.

The blood. My blood. It was still flowing, pouring into the book like an endless river.

I could feel the life draining out of me with each passing second, the weakness spreading through my limbs like a poison.

My hand.

It was still stuck to the book, the skin pressed firmly against the cover as if I'd been bound to it by some invisible force.

The glow from the pages grew brighter, more intense, the light now piercing into my half-open eyes.

The pages.

My chest tightened as I watched them flip wildly, each turn faster than the last.

The thought filled me with a desperation I couldn't put into words.

I needed to stop it.

I needed to do something.

Anything.

But my body wouldn't listen. My limbs felt like lead, my strength all but gone as I lay slumped against the table.

"No..." The word was a whisper, barely audible, a futile plea that dissolved into the empty air.

The pain in my head sharpened, a white-hot dagger slicing through my thoughts.

My vision dimmed further, the room fading away into an all-encompassing darkness.

But the sound of the pages flipping did not stop.

I tried to hold on, to keep my eyes open, to fight against the pull of unconsciousness. But it was a losing battle.

My body was betraying me, dragging me down into the abyss with every passing second.

The last thing I saw before the darkness claimed me was the book, its glow pulsating like a heartbeat.

And then?

Darkness.

____________________________

The scent of freshly baked bread clung to the crisp morning air as I balanced a wicker basket on my hip.

The loaves inside were still warm, their golden crusts peeking through the cloth covering. 

The market was already crowdy, voices rising and falling like tides on a full moon as townsfolk haggled for the best deals.

I approached a small shop tucked into the corner of the square, its wooden sign creaking faintly in the breeze.

The shopkeeper, a wiry woman named Clara, stood by the door, arranging jars of honey on a shelf. Her sharp, brown eyes lit up when she spotted me.

"Sylvie!" she called out, brushing her hands on her apron. "Right on time, as always."

I offered a polite smile, setting the basket on the counter just inside the shop.

"Morning, Clara. Brought your usual order. Fresh from the oven."

Clara leaned over the basket, inhaling deeply. "Ah, bless you. Your bread sells faster than anything else I've got here."

I busied myself with unloading the loaves, their warm weight familiar against my hands. Clara chattered away, her voice a constant hum in the background.

Something about the mayor's new rules on market taxes, or perhaps it was the tavern brawl from the night before—I wasn't really listening.

And then, a piercing caw split the air.

Both of us froze, our heads snapping toward the sound.

A raven soared above the market square, its black wings cutting through the sunlight as it circled high overhead.

Clara squinted, her brow furrowing. "Strange... you don't see those in town often."

My heart stuttered in my chest. I knew that raven.

Its movements weren't random; they were deliberate... practiced.

Clara turned back to me, curiosity etched on her face. "You alright, Sylvie? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I forced a tight smile, quickly covering the remaining loaves in the basket.

"I just remembered I've got something on the stove. I'll be back later for the payment."

Before she could protest, I was already moving, my boots clicking against the cobblestones as I ducked into a narrow alleyway.

The air here was cooler, the walls casting deep shadows that swallowed the noise of the market.

I paused, tilting my head back and whistling a low, intricate tune.

The raven's answer was immediate.

Its caw echoed sharply as it dove down from the sky, landing on a nearby crate with an unsettling grace.

Its black eyes gleamed like polished stone, unblinking and intelligent.

"Good boy," I murmured, reaching out to stroke its feathers.

It leaned into my touch, its beak clicking softly as it extended its leg toward me.

A small piece of parchment was tied there, bound with a black thread.

My fingers trembled as I worked to untie it, the paper crinkling faintly in the quiet background.

"The Patriarch summons you."

My breath hitched.

The words echoed in my mind, heavier than the note's weight.

I glanced back at the raven, its unblinking gaze locked onto mine as if awaiting further instruction.

"You've done your job," I said softly, giving it one last stroke before it took off, wings slicing through the air as it disappeared into the sky.

Clutching the note tightly, I turned and made my way back towards the market square.

But my thoughts were far from bread and small talk now.

The Romero Patriarch.

Venus Romero.

He rarely summoned anyone unless it was urgent.

And urgent with him?

It always meant trouble.

***