I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 858: Alvara’s Wish

Time passed quietly within the mansion.

The living room had fell into a peaceful and chattering ambiance, accompanied by the growing scent of dinner from the kitchen.

Edward sat with Layla and Olga, listening more than he spoke as the two exchanged occasional remarks. Layla, as usual, filled the silences easily; Olga remained reserved, but she no longer seemed quite as tense as when she had first appeared.

She was clearly more comfortable and at ease around Edward and the around Banshees and Samara along so when it became too crowded she was less talkative but Layla was a master of conversation. She managed to easily get Olga to talk.

Across the room, Lunishia had taken fully Tihana’s attention.

Tihana sat close beside her, asking one question after another about Edward’s life during the long periods he had been away from them. Lunishia answered with enthusiasm, recounting stories of their travels, their encounters, and the strange places they had visited.

Obviously, she only shared what she was allowed to share.

Even so, Tihana listened with bright eyes, reacting to every detail as though she had been given access to a secret adventure book.

On the other sofa, Samara and Tessara spoke quietly together.

Neither of them was particularly talkative. Their conversation was made up of short observations, soft questions, and comfortable pauses rather than loud laughter. Yet that was exactly why they got along. Neither expected the other to fill every silence, and their calm presence seemed to fit naturally together.

Then Belle’s voice called from the kitchen.

"Edward. Can you come over?"

Edward stood from the sofa without a word and walked toward the kitchen.

The moment he entered, the rich smell of food greeted him. Rice, spices, warm broth, and the faint sweetness of something being prepared in a pan filled the room.

Orlin stood in front of the stove wearing an apron that looked slightly too large for him. He was focused intently on the meal, stirring one pot while keeping an eye on another.

Edward watched him for a second.

A faint smile almost appeared on his face.

"Edward."

Belle’s voice drew his attention forward.

She stood near the counter, stirring a pot of rice with one hand. Steam drifted lazily around her, and despite the calmness in her expression, Edward could already tell that she had something on her mind.

"So," Belle said, "you only just appeared in Veyra and left immediately after?"

"Yeah," Edward replied.

"And you did not meet anyone there?"

"No."

Belle raised an eyebrow.

"Even though there were people you knew present?"

"Alicia and Levina will come eventually," Edward said. "There was no reason to create unnecessary uproar by meeting them there."

Belle nodded slowly, accepting that answer.

Then she asked the question she had clearly been holding back.

"And Alea and Christina?"

Edward’s expression darkened instantly.

The warmth that had almost surfaced when he saw Orlin at the stove vanished.

Belle noticed it and spoke quickly.

"I know things did not end well," she said. "But do you not think you should speak to them? At least for closure?"

"The closure happened two years ago in Central Vedelia," Edward answered coldly.

Belle sighed.

"I am not telling you to speak about Kleines. You have not been with him at all. But for an entire year, you were still by Alea and Christina’s side, were you not?"

"That is an overstatement," Edward said. "Whatever I felt for them was the result of memories and a life that did not even belong to me. An cursed page of my life that I would erase, if I could."

Belle did not answer immediately.

Edward’s feelings toward Alea and Christina had never been simple.

During the years he had spent within Amael’s body, he had formed connections and relationships that he had eventually accepted as part of his own history. Even though he had lacked the memories that truly defined him at the time, he could acknowledge that his choices during those years had mattered.

But Alea and Christina were different.

His attachment to them had existed before he started having his influence in that body. It was not something he had chosen, built, or understood for himself. He had inherited it because he had inhabited the body of their son and brother. Amael’s old love, pain, grief, and longing had been woven so deeply into that body that Edward had been forced to feel them as though they were his own.

That lack of control was what he hated most.

"They were emotions I never chose," Edward continued. "Feelings I had no control over."

"I understand, Edward," Belle said gently.

She stepped closer and placed one hand lightly against his chest, trying to calm the tension coldness within him.

"But even if those feelings came from Amael’s memories, you cannot tell me that you felt nothing for them during that time. At least some of that affection had to be yours."

Edward stared at her.

"Did she contact you?"

Belle blinked. "What?"

"Any of them. Alea, Christina... or your brother." His eyes narrowed. "Did he call you and ask whether you knew anything?"

Belle let out a small breath.

"Alea contacted me," she admitted. "And no, I did not tell any of them that you survived. Not since the day I learned it myself."

"What do they want?" Edward asked. "To confirm that I am alive so they can find another way to kill me?"

"Edward—"

"Warn them," he cut in.

His face was devoid of warmth now much like his voice.

"At the slightest sign of hostility, I will kill them."

He paused.

"Starting with your brother, Belle."

With that, Edward turned and walked toward the door.

"Even if it was only for a short time and not real," Belle called after him, "they were your family there."

Edward stopped.

For a moment, he stood with his back to her. Then he glanced over his shoulder.

"You are my family," he said.

And then he left.

Belle remained still for several seconds, the sound of the simmering pots now painfully clear in the silence he had left behind.

"Congratulations, Belle," she muttered bitterly to herself. "You handled that wonderfully."

Orlin stood near the stove, holding the spoon in one hand. He looked uncertain, almost frightened.

He had never seen Edward like that.

It had not been anger, not exactly. Anger would have been easier to understand. What Orlin had seen was colder than anger: a complete absence of warmth toward people Edward had once been connected to.

The difference between Edward’s behavior toward strangers and the way he treated Belle, Tihana, and Orlin felt like the difference between heaven and earth.

Belle noticed Orlin’s expression and forced a small smile.

"Do not worry," she told him. "He will be fine."

Orlin nodded, though he did not look completely reassured. He turned back toward the stove and focused on the food again.

Belle, meanwhile, reached for her phone.

Two unread messages waited on the screen.

[Alea: Belle, do you know about it? You must have known, did you not?]

[Christina: Aunt, please. Just let me speak to him for a moment, if he is with you.]

Belle stared at the messages for a long time.

Then she turned off the screen and let out a quiet sigh.

She wanted to do something before leaving Edenis Raphiel. She wished she could find a way to ease the distance between them, even slightly.

Kleines was out of the question obviously, even Belle was pissed off toward him but Alea, especially Christina. Her poor niece had taken Edward’s death very badly, drowning in guilt despite she recovered her brother.

She wanted to help.

But judging by Edward’s expression, she doubted she had much time.

And she doubted he would allow it either.

***

Edward crossed the living room without drawing attention to himself and headed upstairs.

His conversation with Belle had left a sour taste in his mind.

But he had long learned how to bury thoughts he did not wish to entertain.

By the time he reached the top floor, his expression had returned to its usual calmness.

Then a familiar voice echoed inside his mind.

[Master, we are done repairing the ship.]

Edward paused slightly in the corridor.

(That was fast, Master.)

"Good," he answered through the connection. "Come in, then."

(Right away!!)

Once the exchange ended, Edward continued along the upper corridor. The mansion was quiet here, the sounds from the kitchen and living room muted by the distance. His fingertips brushed lightly against the wall as he walked, his steps calm until he finally stopped before one of the closed doors.

He opened it, stepped inside, and shut it behind him.

The room was spacious and dimly lit, with the soft glow of evening filtering through the curtains. Without bothering to look around, Edward walked straight to the bed and let himself fall backward onto it.

He rested with his arms folded beneath his head, staring silently at the ceiling.

Several minutes passed.

Then the bathroom door opened.

Alvara stepped out, still surrounded by the lingering warmth of her bath. The moment she noticed someone in the room, she flinched strongly, her body tensing.

But when she recognized Edward, the tension left her shoulders.

Only to be replaced by a glare.

"My love," she said, her tone cool, "what are you doing here?"

Edward did not answer immediately.

His eyes moved over her from head to toe.

Alvara held a white towel around herself, wrapped securely enough to preserve her modesty but still revealing more than she usually allowed anyone to see: her bare legs, the graceful line of her shoulders, and the pale skin still flushed from the hot water. Her mint-green hair was wet, clinging in soft strands to her neck and back. Without her usual ornaments or careful appearance, she looked more vulnerable than graceful.

"Just checking on you," Edward replied at last.

"I do not need checking on," Alvara said. "You can leave now."

"I would very much like to stay."

"No."

Edward’s lips curved into a faint smile.

"Even though I have seen every part of you," he said, "you still act shy around me."

Alvara’s eyes narrowed.

"It only makes you more adorable," he added.

"Turn around," she ordered.

This time, Edward obeyed without teasing her further. He turned onto his side, facing away from her, and waited.

Behind him came the soft rustle of fabric.

Edward understood her better than most. Alvara was easily embarrassed when it came to such moments, especially around him. She valued her privacy and her dignity, and although he sometimes enjoyed provoking her reactions, he wouldn’t push past the boundaries she set.

After a short silence, he spoke.

"I think you are done."

He turned back.

Alvara stood near the mirror, now dressed in a delicate gown. But she was struggling with the small hooks at the back, her damp hair falling in the way each time she tried to fasten them.

Edward rose from the bed and approached her.

Before Alvara could say something, he moved behind her.

With gentle fingers, he gathered her wet mint-green hair and pulled it over one shoulder. Her nape was revealed beneath the soft light, still glistening with tiny drops of water. Edward carefully fastened the hooks of her gown one by one, taking his time until the fabric sat properly against her back.

Alvara glanced over her shoulder.

Their eyes met.

Edward leaned in and kissed her.

She stiffened in surprise for the briefest moment. Then her eyes closed, and she returned the kiss, her earlier irritation fading beneath something quieter.

After several seconds, Edward pulled back.

He took her hand and guided her toward the bed.

"My love..." Alvara began, a faint blush returning to her cheeks.

"Just a moment," Edward said softly.

He lay back against the bed and gently pulled her down with him.

Alvara landed atop him, immediately embarrassed by their position. Before she could move away, Edward wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She settled against his chest, her back resting against him as he kept her securely within his embrace.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Edward adjusted her slightly so that she rested more comfortably against him. Then he leaned down and pressed a light kiss near her ear.

"You smell wonderful," he whispered.

"I just bathed," Alvara replied.

"No," Edward said. "You always smell wonderful."

A soft pause followed.

"So do you," Alvara whispered.

He smiled.

"You did not need to follow me here," he said after a moment. "You could have gone to meet up with Tanya and Bryelle instead."

Alvara’s eyes shifted slightly.

"Are you that eager to get rid of me?" She asked, a cold edge returning to her tone.

"No," Edward answered. "But I know you. You are not someone who enjoys being surrounded by strangers, no matter how closely they may be related to me."

"They are your family," Alvara replied.

"They are," Edward said. "And you are my family too."

His arms tightened around her gently.

"Do not feel obligated to be around anyone for my sake."

Edward understood that Alvara’s distrust was not something she could simply abandon. It was woven into her nature, shaped by her past and by the life she had lived. She was nothing like Layla, who could easily find her place among unfamiliar people and turn strangers into companions.

Alvara preferred distance.

She preferred silence.

And with only a small number of exceptions, she preferred not to let anyone close.

"I do not feel obligated," Alvara said quietly. "I simply wanted to be by your side, my love."

"I see."

Edward remained where he was, his arm resting around her waist as they lay together.

"Will you let me get ready now?" Alvara asked after a while.

"Not yet."

Edward rested his lips lightly against the top of her head.

"I want to stay close to my wife a little longer. With the children downstairs, we cannot exactly have much time alone."

A faint blush rose over Alvara’s cheeks.

"Not your wife yet," she corrected him.

"Soon enough."

Alvara was quiet for a moment.

"If you want it to be official according to our traditions, then you will have to come with me," she said. "My mother would want a real wedding."

"And what do you want?" Edward asked.

Alvara’s voice became softer.

"I would want one too."

Edward nodded.

"Then I will do it. I will come with you to see Tanya."

A small, pleased smile appeared on Alvara’s lips. It was subtle, but Edward noticed it immediately.

"With the academy, we will need to find a proper day," she said.

"Any day you want," Edward replied. "But I would prefer it to happen soon. I want to make you my wife as quickly as possible."

"So impatient," Alvara chuckled.

Then she turned slightly in his arms, staring him with a more serious expression.

"What number wife would I be?"

"Numbers do not matter," Edward said dryly. "It is not a competition."

Alvara shifted further until she faced him, resting against his chest. Edward’s arms naturally moved around her back.

"Answer me."

Edward looked toward the ceiling for a brief moment, as though calculating an answer he knew she would not be satisfied with.

"If my wedding with Layla happens as planned," he said, "then you might be perhaps my fifth wife."

"Fifth?" Alvara raised an eyebrow.

"I married Ephera on Earth," Edward explained. "Then Persephone though it was Mary. I gave her a ring. It was not truly official so it depends. Then there was Cleenah."

His gaze remained upward, his expression faintly weary.

"And you married that Goddess?" Alvara asked, genuinely surprised. "When?"

"I was not conscious at the time," Edward replied. "But she did something that was very close to exchanging wedding vows, at least according to the customs of someone like her. I doubt she acted without knowing exactly what it meant."

"She married you without your consent," Alvara said sternly.

"She always had my consent," Edward replied.

He lowered his gaze again.

Alvara looked troubled by the answer, though she did not argue further.

"I see," she said after a pause. "Then if Layla is fourth, I will be fifth. What about Elizabeth?"

"Elizabeth does not seem to care much about it," Edward said. "Do not give her strange ideas, though. She might suddenly decide to take it very seriously."

"Hm."

Edward reached beneath Alvara’s chin and gently raised her gaze until she looked at him.

"Hey."

His voice softened.

"Numbers do not matter. You are not less important because someone came before you. You are all equal to me."

"I still want our wedding," Alvara said. "I want to become your wife officially. That is important for me, to be tied to you by sacred vows."

"Then we will have one."

Edward’s expression turned faintly mischievous.

"I will tell Tanya that her daughter is very determined to have the wedding arranged quickly."

Alvara narrowed her eyes.

"And a proper first night," he added.

"You!"

She struck his chest lightly, her entire face flushing.

Edward only smiled.

With one smooth movement, he shifted their positions, placing Alvara beneath him on the bed. He braced himself carefully above her, watching as her breathing quickened and the embarrassment in her face deepened.

"My love..."

"Shh."

Edward leaned down and kissed her.

Alvara closed her eyes and returned it, her fingers gathering lightly in the bedsheet as the room seemed to grow warmer around them.

Then came a knock at the door.

"Are you done in there, Honey?"

Layla’s voice broke through the moment.

Alvara immediately pushed against Edward’s chest. He let himself fall to the side with a sigh, while Alvara quickly tried to compose herself.

The door opened before either of them could answer.

Layla stood in the doorway wearing a knowing smile. Her eyes moved from Edward to Alvara, whose wet hair and flushed face made her too easy to tease.

"God," Layla said, blinking innocently. "You certainly made a job with her, Honey. She is drenched from head to toe."

Alvara glared at her.

"Both of you, get out," she said.

Edward smiled faintly, rose from the bed, and headed toward the door. Layla stepped aside to let him pass, still clearly entertained by Alvara’s reaction.

Edward closed the door behind them.

The two walked into the upper corridor together.

"Did I interrupt a private moment with Freydis, Honey?" Layla asked, her tone openly teasing.

"No," Edward replied. "As much as I might have wanted to stay, it would not be appropriate with the children directly below us."

"True," Layla said thoughtfully. "And Alvara is not exactly quiet."

"Do not tease her too much about it," Edward said. "You know she is not as open as you are."

Layla’s smile widened.

"Does that mean she is not loud?"

Edward stopped.

Before Layla could take another step, he gently guided her backward until she stood against the stair railing. His hands rested at either side of her, blocking her in without truly trapping her.

He leaned in, his lips grazing her neck.

Layla’s eyes fluttered shut.

He ran his tongue lightly over her skin, then pressed a soft, lingering suck just below her ear.

"Ha—ahn..." A quiet moan escaped her lips.

Edward drew back just enough to look at her flushed face.

"You can be loud too, when I want you to be," he said, then released her and stepped away.