Rin sat under the canopy of the forest, gently resting a hand on Nariku's shoulder. The boy had finally stopped crying, though his breathing was still shaky. The moment felt strangely calm—until a sharp sensation prickled at the back of Rin's neck. Like a thread of cold running down his spine.
We're not alone.
Rin's eyes shifted to the forest—not randomly, but guided. There, just beyond the shadow of the trees, stood a figure that hadn't been there a moment ago.
A man—tall, cloaked in absolute black. His hood covered most of his face, but what caught Rin's attention immediately was the mask. Silver and expressionless in its structure—but crafted into a wide, exaggerated smile. A twisted, euphoric grin frozen in place. The mask didn't radiate warmth. It radiated madness.
Rin's voice was low but steady. "Who are you?"
The figure didn't answer. Instead, he stepped forward. His movement was uncanny. Silent. No crunch of leaves. No shift in the underbrush. Not even the sound of fabric brushing air. For a moment, Rin questioned if the figure was real at all—like he was watching a ghost step through the waking world.
Nariku looked up. The second his eyes met the figure's mask, he recoiled into Rin's arm. His small hands gripped Rin's sleeve tightly.
But the man didn't even glance at Nariku. His gaze—whatever lay behind that mask—was fixed entirely on Rin.
Then, finally, the figure stopped a few paces away. There was a long silence.
And then the figure spoke.
"Hello, villain."
The voice was deep, but not aggressive. Smooth, measured. Not a threat—just a statement. A truth. One spoken with quiet amusement… or certainty.
Before Rin could say anything, the man was gone.
No flash. No smoke. Just… gone.
Nariku trembled against him. "W-who was that man?"
"I don't know," Rin said, keeping his tone calm. But his mind was already spiraling. That mask. That entrance. That word. "Villain."
It didn't feel like a random encounter. This person—this thing—had come here deliberately. For him.
And he hadn't made a sound. Not one.
Rin stared into the dark where the figure once stood, mind racing. Was he from the system? An administrator? Or something else altogether?
Nariku's hand tugged at his shirt again. "It's almost dark, Rin… can we just camp here tonight?"
Rin looked down at him and forced a warm smile. "Yeah. Let's set up here."
Nariku smiled a little, still shaken, and started gathering a few fallen leaves and sticks. Rin kept watching the tree line. His mind burned with the figure's last word.
Villain.
Had the system truly decided his role in this game? Or had it simply seen what lay behind his smile?
Rin leaned back against the nearest tree and opened his inventory again, as if to distract himself. The Card of Mania and the Puppet Strings sat there, waiting. Tools, yes—but perhaps symbols too. Of how the world saw him.
And yet, the mask. That smile on it. That could've been his smile, if someone froze it at the wrong time.
He hated how accurate it felt.