The Villain’s Mask

The system tasked me with romancing the innocent male lead.
I gave Damien Blackwood my all—relentless, whispering sweet nothings by day, curling up beside him at night. Each morning, I demanded a kiss before letting him rise, his face flushed crimson. My passionate assault quickly ensnared the innocent lamb.
We confessed, dated, and became engaged in a whirlwind romance. But at our engagement party, the system screamed back to life:
“I said romance the innocent lead, so why seduce the psycho villain?!”
“What part of him seems innocent? Every time you flirted, he bought a new ‘toy,’ saving them for tonight—for you.”
“He’s about to go nuclear, and you’re humming nursery rhymes!”
Panic seized me. I spun to flee, only to crash into a solid chest. Damien’s arms locked around me, his smile gentle but his grip unbreakable.
“Darling,” he purred, “we missed our morning kiss. How about we spend all night making it up?”

1
“Mmm…”
The first thing I registered upon waking was the sound of ragged, urgent breathing. I lifted my head.
A man was slumped against the wall, his handsome face flushed, his shirt torn open to reveal a wide expanse of toned chest. He looked like the textbook definition of a male lead who’d just been drugged.
My jaw dropped.
My name is Nina, and I’m a ‘transmigrator.’ Just moments ago, my system had thrown me into this novel. It had only managed to spit out, “Your mission is to romance the pure, innocent male lead, Damien Blackwood…” before the connection fizzled out.
But it had failed to mention that this innocent little flower was this… intense.
My eyes lit up. I couldn’t stop myself from walking toward him. If the innocent lamb was in trouble, then who was I to deny him a proper rescue?
But I’d barely taken two steps when a brutal force clamped down on my wrist. The world spun, and the next thing I knew, I was slammed against the wall, my arm twisted behind me.
Damien’s eyes were dark and stormy. “Who are you?” he growled. “What are you trying to do to me?”
The words should have been terrifying. But in his drugged state, his voice was breathy, the ends of his words trembling ever so slightly. He sounded less threatening and more… adorable.
A wicked grin spread across my face. “What do you think?” I purred. “I’m here to help you with your little… problem.”
Damien’s brow furrowed, his grip on my wrist tightening. “Looking for a death wish?”
But before he could do anything else, another wave of the drug hit him. His strength vanished, leaving him paralyzed. He could only watch, his eyes wide with a mixture of anger and confusion, as I slung his arm over my shoulder, half-carrying, half-dragging him. With a final, decisive shove—
SPLASH!
A huge plume of water erupted as we both tumbled into the oversized bathtub, plunging into the icy water.

2
Damien was soaked to the bone. He broke the surface, gasping for air, his voice dripping with fury.
“What. Are. You. Doing?” Each word was a dagger. He was genuinely furious.
But I was too busy enjoying the moment to notice. I tilted my head back, a triumphant smile on my face. “Like I said, I’m helping you with your problem.” I gestured around us. “See? You’re not even trembling anymore. It’s working, isn’t it?”
Damien froze. He seemed to realize, for the first time, that the burning heat that had been consuming him was now mostly gone, extinguished by the cold water. His mind felt clearer. A complex expression crossed his face. “…You really were just trying to help?”
Well, not just. I had my own selfish reasons.
Pretending to wipe water from my eyes, I secretly peeked at him. His white dress shirt was now semi-transparent, clinging to his body and outlining the sharp, defined muscles beneath. It was a subtle, tantalizing kind of temptation. My face grew warm.
Nina, you’re terrible, I scolded myself. Taking advantage of a poor, innocent man like this.
But Damien hadn’t noticed my leering. He was lost in thought. “Why didn’t you kill me?” he finally asked.
I blinked. What?
“I don’t know if you were sent by the old family or our rivals from the port,” he continued, his voice low and serious. “But either way, you should have been here for my life. Why didn’t you kill me when I was vulnerable?”
Okay, what was happening? I wasn’t that terrible. And why was an innocent romance protagonist talking about assassins and rival gangs? Anyone overhearing this would think he was some kind of mafia boss, not the hero of a love story.
After a moment of silent mental facepalming, I finally explained, "What are you talking about? I'm here to win you over. I don't want your life. I want you."
Damien went completely still. He stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief, as if he hadn’t heard me correctly. “…What?”
The system had told me that with pure, innocent guys, the key was to be bold, passionate, and direct.
So, I gazed at him with all the affection I could muster and repeated myself. “I said, I’m here to pursue you. To date you. To make you fall in love with me. To—”
“Enough,” he cut me off with a short, humorless laugh. “I get it. A honey trap.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a cynical smirk, his eyes turning cold and distant. “The people who sent you must be fools. I grew up surrounded by blood and death. Did they really think they could entice me with something as childish as love?”
I was completely lost. What on earth was he talking about? None of this made any sense.
But one sentence did stick out.
“I grew up surrounded by blood and death.”
His childhood must have been horrifying. Witnessing such things from a young age… what kind of brutal family had he grown up in?
A wave of sympathy washed over me. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him into a hug. “Don’t be sad, sweetheart,” I murmured, my voice soft. “You’ve been so strong, surviving all this on your own. Let me walk with you from now on. I’ll protect you. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
Damien’s breath caught in his throat. For a long moment, he was silent. Then, slowly, he rested his head on my shoulder.
“Really?” he whispered.
“Then… I’ll be in your care.”
Finally! The innocent male lead was acting normal! I was so relieved that I patted his back reassuringly.
I didn’t see the way his eyes, hidden from my view, darkened with a dangerous, predatory light.
He stared at my neck, his lips forming silent words.
“It doesn’t matter if you’re lying. Now that you’ve made your move—”
“Don’t even think about running away.”

3
After Damien recovered, we drove to his home. As we pulled up, my eyes went wide.
Before me stretched a sprawling estate of modern mansions, each one oozing luxury. A line of bodyguards in sharp black suits stood at attention, their presence an intimidating wall of silent power.
This was the real deal. This was the life of a novel’s male lead!
As I gaped at my surroundings, a man approached and bowed to Damien. “Mr. Blackwood, we’ve caught the traitor who drugged you. How would you like to deal with them?”
Damien answered without a second thought. “Feed them to the sharks, of course.”
I froze solid.
Wait a second. Was this really the pure, innocent hero? The way he talked about “blood and death”… was he the one causing it?
Damien glanced at my petrified expression and seemed to realize something. “Don’t misunderstand,” he said smoothly. “I have a pet shark. ‘The Traitor Who Drugged Me’ is just the name of its fish food.”
The man who had reported to him blinked, then immediately turned to me with a strained smile. “That’s right, miss. I’m in charge of feeding the young master’s shark. To keep things organized, I give the different food pellets… creative names. Like ‘The Traitor Who Drugged Me,’ or ‘The Enemy Who Signed His Death Warrant,’ or ‘The Uncooperative Business Partner.’” He paused. “All of these people… I mean, pellets… end up as fish food.”
Though he was trying his best to smile, his eyes held a chilling, untamed ferocity.
You’re a very strange man, I thought. You know that, right?
I met more of his staff, and they were all the same—tough, intimidating, and looking like they could snap a man in half. And the strangest part? As soon as they finished speaking with Damien, they would immediately retreat, keeping a distance of at least thirty feet.
It was as if they were all deliberately… shunning him. Ostracizing him.
My heart ached. “Do you work with these people every day?” I asked quietly. “They all look so mean, and they clearly don’t like you. Do they… bully you?”
Damien paused. He slowly lowered his gaze, a sad, vulnerable smile gracing his lips. “They do,” he said softly. “They’re supposed to be my subordinates, but they never listen. They bully me behind my back. I feel… scared, and very lonely, every day.”
My heart shattered. No wonder Damien was so pure and delicate. Not only had he suffered a tragic childhood, but now he was being bullied by this gang of thugs.
A fierce protectiveness surged through me. I took his hand. “Hey, don’t be sad anymore. From now on, I’ll come to work with you every day. I’ll stand up for you. I promise, no one will dare to bully you again, okay?”
I could have sworn that as I said this, the faces of several nearby guards twitched, their expressions a mixture of confusion and disbelief. But before I could get a better look, Damien’s lips curved into a breathtaking smile. The light in his eyes was like the spring sun dancing on a lake, sending ripples through my soul.
“That would be wonderful,” he said, his voice warm. “With you by my side, I’ll feel so much safer.”
The sudden flash of his perfect smile hit me like a physical blow. I blushed and quickly looked away, completely flustered.
And so, I missed it. I missed the way Damien turned his head slightly, catching the eyes of the guards who looked like they wanted to speak. He raised a single, elegant finger to his lips.
“Shhh.”
In an instant, the world fell back into absolute, unnerving silence.

4
That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
The room Damien had prepared for me was undeniably luxurious. The furniture, the lighting, the massive bed—everything whispered of immense wealth. But I couldn’t bring myself to like it.
Everything was black.
There was no warmth, no life—only a cold, oppressive atmosphere that made my chest feel tight. It didn’t feel like a place for rest. It felt like a cage.
As I lay there, my thoughts drifted to Damien. If even I felt suffocated here, how could a gentle soul like him have endured it for over twenty years? And he’d said it himself: “I feel scared, and very lonely, every day…”
The thought spurred me into action. I slipped out of bed and tiptoed into his room, determined to offer some comfort.
The room was pitch black. I couldn’t tell if he was asleep. I moved silently toward the bed, careful not to make a sound. One step, two steps, three…
Suddenly, my wrist was seized in a grip of iron. An immense force pulled me forward, and I tumbled onto the soft mattress. Before I could even process what was happening, I was pinned down.
Damien loomed over me, his voice sharp and cold. “Who is it?”
“Ow, that hurts!” I yelped instinctively.
Hearing my voice, Damien froze. The pressure on me eased. His tone shifted, becoming low and husky. “It’s you? What are you doing in my room in the middle of the night?”
I rubbed my sore wrist, pouting. “I wasn’t planning anything bad,” I mumbled. “I was just worried you’d be lonely all by yourself, so I came to… help.”
The word “help” seemed to change the air in the room. Damien’s gaze intensified, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “And how… were you planning on helping me?”
Under his heated gaze, I reached up, wrapped my arms around his neck, and burrowed into his broad chest. And then…
I closed my eyes and promptly fell asleep.
Damien waited. And waited. But nothing else happened.
He let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Nina,” he said, his voice tight with a mix of frustration and amusement, “are you messing with me?”
I was already half-asleep after the day’s events, but I managed a sleepy shake of my head. “No… not messing with you. Just keeping you company.” My words were slurred. “You were bullied all day… sleeping all alone at night… I thought you might be lonely, so I came to stay with you…”
Damien went completely still.
A long silence stretched between us.
I yawned, fighting to keep my eyes open. “Do you… not want me here? If you don’t, I can go…”
Before I could finish, his arms wrapped around me, pulling me tight against him—a silent answer. Listening to the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat, I finally lost the battle with sleep and drifted off.
The next morning, when I opened my eyes, Damien was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed and getting dressed. The morning light sculpted the powerful lines of his back, each muscle perfectly defined. My inner flirt stirred. It was time to tease my innocent little lamb again.
I reached out and threw my arms around him from behind, hugging him tight.
His breath hitched. “…Don’t,” he said, his voice strained. “Let go.”
But I just snuggled closer, my voice a playful whine. “Nope! The only way I’ll let you go is if…” I leaned in, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, “you give me a good morning kiss.”
The tips of his ears instantly turned bright red.
Oh my god, I thought, stunned. He’s so pure! Just the mention of a kiss made him blush like that?
But to my surprise, he didn’t push me away. He quickly turned and planted a soft, fleeting kiss on my cheek. “There. Can I go now?”
I finally released him. The moment I did, he shot up and hurried into the bathroom, the red on his ears still visible. A moment later, I heard the sound of the shower running.
I was baffled. Didn’t he shower last night? Why was he showering again this morning? Was this… the legendary germaphobia of a novel’s male lead?
…
In the days that followed, I stuck to Damien like glue. I whispered sweet nothings to him during the day and held him tight at night. I made him give me a good morning kiss every single day, or I wouldn’t let him get out of bed.
And just as I’d planned, the innocent little lamb couldn’t resist my relentless affection. The way he looked at me slowly filled with a deep, overwhelming love. He indulged my every whim, his patience seemingly endless.
Soon, we confessed our feelings. He proposed. We got engaged. Everything was moving along perfectly.
On the day of our engagement party, after greeting an endless stream of distinguished guests, I was exhausted. Damien, ever the gentleman, told me to go rest while he handled the remaining pleasantries.
I went back to his room alone, took a quick shower, and threw on a fluffy bathrobe before collapsing onto the bed.
Honestly, I would never be this casual in anyone else’s room. But this was Damien’s room. Pure, innocent Damien. We had slept in the same bed for weeks, and all we ever did was talk. It was the very definition of chaste.
I’d come to believe that Damien just wasn’t interested in that side of a relationship. Perhaps he preferred a more platonic kind of love…
As I was pondering this, a shaky, electronic voice echoed in my mind.
“H-Host… why are you lying on… Damien Blackwood’s bed?”
It was my system, back from the dead!
My spirits soared. “Because of the mission, of course!” I bragged. “See? I’ve already captured the innocent male lead’s heart. He’s completely in love with me. He even proposed!”
Before I could continue, the system let out a deafening, panicked shriek.
“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, YOU FOOL?!”
“WHAT PART OF DAMIEN BLACKWOOD SCREAMS ‘INNOCENT’ TO YOU?!”
“HE’S NOT THE MALE LEAD! HE’S THE VILLAIN! THE PSYCHOTIC, MANIPULATIVE, ARCH-VILLAIN!”

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