Chapter 11

When the Villain Knows Your Name

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Arondight walked out of the private room with his polished shoes echoing significantly down the marble hallway as the maid led him toward the grand dining hall. The moment the doors opened, he almost forgot how to breathe. The hall itself looked like it was pulled out from a billionaire romance movie, the kind where the protagonist gets whisked away by the male lead to a fancy, private dinner on a five-star hotel complete with fancy things like diamond-looking chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, expensive cutlery, crystal glasses, rich-looking carpets, a faint, elegant melody drifting through the air that blends perfectly with the scent of expensive wine while the waiters are standing on the sidelines just waiting to serve the guests.

"This is unbelievable..." Arondight thought while taking in every impossible detail of the grand hall once more. After marveling at his surroundings, Arondight immediately went to the long table covered in white silk with crystal wine glasses sparkling under the diamond-looking chandeliers.

And then, at the end of the table, his eyes landed on a familiar figure who had been waiting for him for a while.

It was Red Hilt.

Arondight stopped in his tracks the moment his eyes landed on him. His brain, for a brief moment, simply...crashed.

"What the fuck! Why does this bastard look so damn good?!"

Arondight immediately looked away, while his cheek seemed as if it had been slapped several times because of its redness.

"This is so unfair! Why does he have to be so handsome!"

The young hero noticed the villain wearing a sophisticated, modern black tuxedo with a sleek, contemporary design. His coat was made of smooth, satin material with a touch of classic elegance. Underneath that black coat was a white dress shirt with a lightly quilted texture, giving his look a layer of formal sharpness. A black bow tie completes the ensemble, perfectly balancing modern style and timeless sophistication. Then there was his dark, silky hair, slightly tousled, as if he had run his hand through it before Arondight arrived. His ruby-colored eyes were calm but warm and seductive, and the light from the candles on the table glinted beautifully on his prominent cheekbones and smooth skin.

Arondight swallowed hard and took a deep breath upon seeing how stunning Red Hilt was, hoping the anxious sound escaping from him wouldn't echo across the grand, empty room.

"Nope. Nope. Nope! We are not doing this again!" Arondight mentally screamed as if scolding himself for being weak with these kinds of things. "Keep it together, Adrian! You're not swooning over a supervillain. Not tonight! Not ever! Not even if he-damn it, why does he look like that?!

After a few moments, Red Hilt stood smoothly from his seat and gave his guest, Arondight, a faint smile that screams confidence.

"I wasn't wrong when I picked that suit for you," he said, his tone obviously teasingly laced, "The color white suits you perfectly. It really brings out your beauty."

Arondight's brain short-circuited for half a second after hearing those words.

"Did he just...did he just call me beautiful?!"

That single, careless line and subtle expression from the villain who looks like a supermodel sent an unwanted twist through Arondight's stomach. His heart gave a traitorous thump that only worsened the heat crawling up his neck.

He hated it.

He hated that a supervillain, of all people, could make him feel dizzy and tingly all at once with just a simple smile. Seriously, what kind of dark magic was that?!

Nope. I'm not gonna fall for this man!

Arondight immediately adjusted his posture, forcing his gaze and body to calm as his mind hissed in frustration.

No, not happening!

The hero didn't take his sharp gaze off Red Hilt as he slowly sat on the chair. He wanted to believe that this man in front of him—this arrogant, infuriating villain—was not his type. But damn...the more Arondight looked at Red Hilt, the harder it was to believe. The bastard villain was handsome. Too handsome. The kind of attraction that made his brain short-circuit and his moral compass start buffering.

Arondight clenched his jaw while glaring at the villain, as if it would cancel out the absurd thoughts in his head.

"Adrian," he mentally reminded himself, "this is not the best time to be impressed by that monster's face. Just think of it as a mask—yeah, that's right! A mask! Because behind all that stupid, perfect handsomeness, there's probably a hideous, rotten conscience hiding underneath!"

Arondight doesn't know that Red Hilt has been observing and reading him for a while now. He could easily tell the meaning of every twitch of Arondight's expression, even those unobvious flickers of hesitation and strained self-control behind those determined eyes. Red Hilt could easily tell: the hero liked his face. Well, they always did. That was nothing new to him. He had learned long ago that beauty was a weapon he had to wield. Countless others had fallen for it without even realizing it, and he had mastered how to use it to his advantage.

But this one...this hero was different. Although it is evident that the hero was physically attracted to him, he was trying his best to hold himself back, like a man resisting a raging storm. And Red Hilt found that fascinating. Tempting, even. He wanted to see how long that restraint would last, something the villain intends to test like an experiment.

How long will this hero hold back?

And Red Hilt already knew precisely what he needed to do to find out...

But before he could push the hero that far, he needed to do something else, something far more delicate...

He had to break Arondight. Slowly. Gently. Thoroughly.

"You don't need to stare at me for too long, Arondight, I might melt..." Red Hilt smiled as he leaned back in his chair. "Keep looking at me like that, and people here might think you actually enjoy my company."

Arondight's grip tightened; he was almost tempted to pick up the fork in front of him and stab Red Hilt to death. "Don't make me pick up this fork and stab you to death, you lunatic!"

Red Hilt gave an infuriating smirk that rarely left his lips. "Then what? Are you planning to eat me afterward?"

"WHAT?! No!" Arondight angrily snapped. He nearly choked on his breath while his voice cracked at the end, which didn't help his case. "Who told you I was going to eat you! And for your information, I wasn't staring at you, y-you're not even my type!"

"Oh...?" Red Hilt drawled lazily, resting his chin on one hand. "Then why do you sound so nervous, hero?"

"I'm not nervous!" The protest came far too fast again; it was undeniable that he was trying his best to cancel out the villain. "And if I'm looking at you..." Arondight continued, grasping some moral high ground, "...it's only because I don't want to be unaware of whatever you plan to do to me!"

Red Hilt chuckled softly. A low but rich mocking sound ripples through the quiet hall. "Ah, so it's your way of doing your hero job then?" The villain let his eyes glint with mockery and amusement. "How very noble of you, Arondight. But I like that. I like everything about you, don't you know that?"

Arondight froze. For another split second, his brain just stopped working.

Then after a few more seconds, it rebooted violently.

"W—What are you talking about?! You didn't even know me!" he blurted out, his voice raised slightly without realizing it. "Things happened between us once, but that's not enough for you to claim to know me." He immediately realized how defensive he was and wanted to headbutt the nearest wall.

"Are you sure of that...?"

Red Hilt's voice was meant to tease, but for some reason, his words seemed to imply something. As the villain signaled the waiters to serve the food and wine, Arondight's mind was busy replaying the villain's words repeatedly, with each repetition twisting in his gut.

"What is he implying? Why does it feel like he knew me even before we first met...?"

A chill ran down Arondight's spine. His pulse quickened in a way that made him question everything he thought he knew. And just as his mind seemed determined to deepen his confusion, a stray thought suddenly wandered in:

"Wait...Noble Seas...? Wasn't this the same place Ivan Ross—the guy from three months ago, the one-night-stand-I-pretend-never-happened guy—said he booked for dinner tonight?"

For a split second, Arondight nearly laughed. Or maybe cried. Probably both. Apparently, the universe wasn't content with subjecting him to emotional whiplash alone; it had to be sprinkled with some irony, too. The sheer coincidence of this whole damn dinner, down to the place, the timing, and everything in between, was maddening in its finest!

But his mind wouldn't let go of the possibility that it was all just a coincidence. Arondight clenched his fists tightly under the table to suppress the anxiety that threatened to rise from his intense restraint.

"Maybe I'm just imagining things. That's all. It happens to me constantly...seeing connections that aren't even there and don't make sense..."

Still, the nagging thought lingered: What if Red Hilt is Ivan Ross?

Arondight's heart suddenly hammered in his chest like a warning, "No, it can't be. That's impossible. His rational mind shouted at him, trying to hold back the rising tide of panic. To be honest, if Arondight had to pick between dinner with a narcissistic billionaire like Ivan Ross or this sadistic bastard, Red Hilt, he'd rather take the billionaire. At least Ivan Ross wouldn't threaten him with smoke monsters or weird serums! And, well...he was quite the gentleman, to boot.

But the more Arondight tried justifying things, the more questions he found, and the fewer answers came. That's when he realized that the longer he waited to confront the truth, the tighter Red Hilt's control over the situation would become. He had no idea what game the villain was truly playing.

Red Hilt's smile widened as he slowly swirled the glass of wine. His eyes lingered on Arondight long enough before he spoke softly.

"You seem...deep in thought. Care to share?" Then, he tilted his head slightly and continued as if he was reading something from Arondight that only he could sense, "Or perhaps... You were surprised by what I said?"

Arondight's stomach churned slightly. To get rid of it, he drank a little wine to moisten his throat, which had been dry due to tension. But still, the words that he wanted to say stuck in his throat, as if they were trapped between fear and disbelief.

Why is he smiling like that? Why does it feel like he knows exactly what I'm thinking?

"I...I'm fine," Arondight forced himself to swallow the wine from the glass in one shaky gulp.

Lie. Just lie. Don't give this fucking villain the satisfaction of seeing you getting so confused!

But then, Red Hilt's smile suddenly shifted, enough to set Arondight on edge. "I think this beating-around-the-bush conversation isn't helping us reach the real point...Adrian Garland."

Arondight froze the moment Red Hilt uttered his name. How...how does he know my full name?

Red Hilt's gaze lingered on him, and he said, "I brought you here to tell you that I'm not angry with what happened between us at the bar three months ago. In fact...you left quite the impression on me. So much...that I found myself...obsessed with you."

Arondight's throat went dry again. But this time, he gripped the table's edge as if it were the only thing that could anchor him. How...how does he know that?

"Oh, don't look so shocked...." Red Hilt decided to stand up from his seat and approach Arondight, who was barely blinking in his seat due to surprise. The villain reached out, placing a hand lightly on Arondight's chin, tilting his face to force him to meet his gaze. His eyes held an intensity that made it impossible to look away.

"I want to see those eyes again begging me to drown you in pleasure, like how you made me happy with your mouth..." Red Hilt said this while caressing Arondight's lips with his finger.

It took Arondight long enough to recover from the shock. With a sudden, almost frantic motion, he swatted Red Hilt's hand away, causing Arondight to stumble back in his seat and nearly fall to the floor.

"You..." Arondight's voice wavered with pure disbelief. He can't accept that the man before him was the same person who had introduced himself as Ivan Ross days ago, the unknown bartender from that fleeting one-night encounter three months ago.

"You're...Ivan Ross?"

Arondight felt the room shrink around them for some reason, and the tension between him and the villain was thick enough to taste.

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