I Am The Game's Villain

Stealing Brísingamen.

The damned necklace that clung almost possessively to Freyja's neck, as if it had a will of its own.

No matter how many plans I devised, each one ended with the same dismal outcome: either I would be killed by whatever power her damn necklace unleashed, or I'd barely escape alive—empty-handed and no closer to saving my mother.

I'd spent days thinking it over. In the entire week I'd been here, I had never seen Freyja without that necklace. Not even once.

"Do you know what powers her Brísingamen possesses?" I asked Cleenah, pacing around the garden.

[<Not all of them. But I do know it was crafted by the greatest dwarves specifically for Freyja. It's probably there mainly to protect her.>]

"Dwarves?" I stopped, glancing toward the sky as if searching for answers. "You mean the race that vanished without a trace centuries ago?"

[<Yes…>]

Her reluctance to elaborate was clear, but I didn't press.

Whatever.

"Did they have nothing better to do?" I muttered, shaking my head in exasperation.

[<Well, nobody would refuse a request from the Goddess of Beauty and Love.>]

"I did," I pointed out reminding her that I refused Freyja's request to become part of collection.

[<Do you want a medal for it?>]

"No, I just confirmed that those dwarves were simps too. Crafting something like Brísingamen just to get a 'thank you' in the end? Pathetic."

[<Not exactly. I heard she spent a night with each of them as a reward.>]

I blinked. "Wait. What? That's… weird." I grimaced. "Becoming a prostitute just for a necklace? That's a bit much, even for her."

[<Hm. If you want my opinion, knowing that witch, she probably tricked them. Freyja wouldn't give up something that makes her untouchable and unique in the eyes of the gods so easily. For goddesses, their virtue is their most treasured possession—especially for those with the Divinity of Beauty or Love. They're notoriously strict about such matters.>]

"That's... interesting," I mused, rubbing my chin thoughtfully. "But I still feel bad for you Goddesses. Ten thousand years of being celibate? Doesn't that get a little... stifling?" Discover stories at empire

[<We are gods! Not beasts! We have transcended such mortal desires!>]

Cleenah's indignant reply to my tease came swiftly prompting me to smile a little.

"Relax, Cleenah," I said with a smirk. "I was just teasing. But can you really blame me for doubting? One of the so-called greatest gods, Zeus himself, is still preoccupied with adding women to his never-ending harem."

[<That man is a breed apart. He's always been like this…>]

Cleenah's answer was filled with disgust.

I could only offer her a sympathetic glance. Zeus had crossed every line imaginable—he dared to court not only Nevia and Cleenah but even Layla which was really the last straw for me.

If I had the strength, I would've ended his career a long time ago. But I wasn't foolish enough to act recklessly. He was a god, and I was not. My time would come—I just needed to be patient.

[<I just hope you won't become like him.>]

Her words made me grimace, the subtle jab hitting its mark. She was definitely getting her revenge for my earlier remarks.

"I'll admit," I said defensively, "that I might love more than one woman. But unlike him, I don't see them as trophies to collect. I actually care about them. And trust me, I'm not so insatiable that I'd aspire to thousands of wives."

Cleenah's silence spoke volumes, but I continued, partly to convince her and partly myself. "Besides, I don't fall in love that easily. Please don't compare me to Jayden."

The thought of him made my brow furrow. That guy would chase after anything even remotely beautiful. Sure, physical beauty played a role—it always did—but it wasn't the only factor. At least, it wasn't for me.

Jayden, on the other hand, seemed destined to become a stereotypical harem protagonist. Spending nearly a year alongside Victor, another so-called protagonist, had shown me there were different kinds of heroes. Victor, for instance, had a sense of restraint and a distinct moral compass—qualities Jayden sorely lacked.

[<Speaking of 'your' women. You haven't written any letters to Layla, Miranda, or even Maria and Seraphina in a while.>]

I groaned at the mention of Maria and Seraphina. "I'll pretend I didn't hear you include them as 'my women.' But yes, I haven't had much time, and Sancta Vedelia is the safest place to send letters."

Still, she wasn't wrong. I made it a point to write weekly letters to Layla and Miranda. Maria and Seraphina? Well, that was a different story.

"I send letters to them too," I admitted, almost defensively. "Once a month, at least, just to check on how they're doing in the Holy Church…that's all."

It wasn't as though I was sending love letters to the Saintesses of Eden. That would be suicidal. I was pretty sure the church screened every letter before delivering them, so my messages to Maria and Seraphina were simple updates and polite inquiries. Nothing flirtatious.

I made a habit of sending similar letters to Aunt Belle, which also included updates for Orlin and Tihana.

Yes, my correspondence with the saintesses—technically unrelated to me—might raise a few eyebrows, but Maria and Seraphina were good people. They deserved the best, and I wished them nothing but that. I had even promised to help them if they ever found themselves in danger and needed my aid. The lack of distress messages from them so far was reassuring; it meant no immediate crises, which spared me from the potential headache of the Third Game.

Given my current circumstances, flirtatious letters were entirely out of the question. Besides, John was likely keeping Layla informed about my situation. Everyone important would already know I was alive—Samara and Anna's continued presence was proof enough of that.

For now, my focus needed to remain still. I had one mission: getting my mother out of this place.

"Lady Loki, you're here! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

The maid's voice rang as I paced in the garden. Her sudden appearance wasn't surprising—I had known someone would come for me eventually.

"The Princess wishes to see me?" I asked.

"Yes, she has completed her morning meditation," the maid replied, bowing slightly.

Freyja's meditation was a ritual she practiced diligently each morning for hours. What exactly it entailed was a mystery—no one was permitted inside her quarters or even bother her during that time. Not even me.

"Very well," I said, falling into step behind the maid as she led the way.

I needed to get a closer look at Brisingamen. I had to find a way to steal it.

Should I take it while she's asleep?

[<That's not only creepy, but she'd sense you entering her room from miles away.>]

'Fine. Then I'll have to slip a sleeping pill into her drink, just like I did with those two guards earlier.'

Cleenah's groan was nearly audible.

[<I think you have a fundamental misunderstanding of what it means to face a Goddess. This is Freyja, Edward. A goddess. Keep that in mind before you continue with these... childish schemes.>]

'Alright, alright, I get it.'

But did a better plan even exist when it came to stealing something precious from a goddess? The thought lingered in my mind, but no matter how much I turned it over, nothing brilliant came to me.

I followed the maid silently, lost in my spiraling thoughts until we arrived at our destination.

"Here, enter," the maid said, pushing the door open.

"Okay…" I muttered, shaking my head to clear it. Obsessing over it for hours wouldn't help—I needed more information. First, I had to understand Freyja's habits and routines. That was the only way to find a weak spot in her defenses.

As I stepped inside, an unexpected wave of heat enveloped me. The air was thick with an intoxicating, floral aroma that teased my senses.

Wait…

This isn't Freyja's room.

-Thud!

I spun around to leave, but the door slammed shut behind me. The click of the lock was accompanying it.

You conniving maid!

"Loki?"

A soft, melodious voice called out, making me freeze. Droplets of water splashed gently, breaking the silence.

"Y-Yes…" I stuttered, my voice betraying me with a squeal more suited to a startled girl than myself. Slowly, I turned around.

A quiet giggle floated through the steamy air, light and teasing. Freyja's amusement at my reaction only deepened my embarrassment.

When my eyes adjusted, I could vaguely discern her location. The golden outlines of a lavish royal bath shimmered in the heat, but a sheer white curtain hung around it, obscuring her fully from view.

"Don't be so scared, Loki."

Through the curtain, I saw the shadow of her leg rise gracefully, water trickling down its silhouette. My mind screamed at me to flee.

"I–I think I should leave, Your Highness," I said, taking a cautious step backward only to be met with the hard wooden door.

"So shy~" She giggled in amusement.

Her shadow moved a bit, and the curtain parted slightly at the front. Freyja leaned forward, resting her crossed arms on the golden rim of the tub. Her golden hair was elegantly tied into a bun, leaving her neck and shoulders bare, and the Brisingamen glinted prominently at her collarbone.

She smiled, her gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that left me rooted to the spot.

"Let's talk, dear Loki."