A Villain's Survival Guide

Charlotte Greenwood was someone Leomaris would gladly trade his guts for. A prodigy in the novel, often referred to as "Me, Myself and I." And even though the author had explicitly dropped the novel with "everyone dies, including Lucius," if any soul but Lucius stood a chance of surviving, it would have been Charlotte.

Despite how badly he wanted to approach her right there in the arena, he knew she despised being disturbed while reading. It was a pain, especially since speaking to her would only grow harder once the grimoire contracts were complete.

Leomaris sat in the examination hall, five sheets of paper laid out before him. He’d been eager to catch a glimpse of the protagonist, Lucius, but Lucius’s surname was Cutler, and his was Runerth. Same hall wasn’t happening, even if he begged for it.

’These questions aren’t hard, but geez... why are there so many of them?’

The contracting room would be available the moment he finished. Still, between mock exams, college exams, and the countless quizzes he’d attempted while bedridden in his previous life, not one had ever carried five hundred questions.

’It’s almost like they want me to fail. Sorry, buddy, that’s not happening.’

He flipped the paper over. If he was being honest, he was more eager to find out what his grimoire had in store, which was probably why he was answering faster than usual. Then again, he’d proofread Arcane Mercenary more than once. The questions weren’t that hard.

"What was the duration of the Unholy War between the Break Kingdom and the Naver Kingdom?"

’Easy, 102 years.’

"Who ruled as Emperor of the Braek Empire 1,500 years ago?"

’Emperor Park.’

"Who started the Revolutionary War I?"

’The Woman in Veil.’

"Who, besides King Alastair II, was recognized as a hero after the Revolutionary War II?"

A smirk crossed Leomaris’s lips. The only thing that kept him from bursting into laughter was his own conscience.

’Funny... Godfrey Runerth.’

Leomaris sighed. ’At least he had enough honor in him to refuse the title of hero.’

Thirty years prior, his father had ignited Revolutionary War II, a move to push his own products and forge alliances in the underground world. At his side was his best friend, Alastair, the acting king of the Prism Kingdom at the time.

Fourth year at this very academy, both Calamities, fighting and winning, were a given. Godfrey finished what he started and was recognised as a hero for it. He refused the title. Alastair II crowned him a Duke instead.

That was the Runerth tradition, through and through. They started the flame and helped quench it, and in the end, both actions worked in their favour.

The question lingered in Leomaris’s mind until he moved to the next one. His expression shifted immediately.

"The agreements established between an individual and a grimoire may involve either an immediate cost or a conditional cost. Such contractual prices are unavoidable and __?"

His mouth fell open. He knew magic in this world came at a price, conditional or instant, and that even relics carried a cost given their magical infusion. But he hadn’t known these prices were unavoidable. And he most certainly didn’t know what the right answer was supposed to be.

’Did I forget this somehow? I don’t remember reading it. I feel like I would if I had.’

Longer than any of the others, this question held him. In the end, he settled on something shallow and moved on to the next one.

Still, it weighed on his mind. Upon contracting, the cost had to be accepted for success, and yet the plot of Arcane Mercenary suggested it could be lifted. If it truly couldn’t be avoided, the story hadn’t just changed. There were plot holes at play as well.

’I’ll have to ask Raine once my contract is done.’

—

Soon enough, the exam was over, and with it, the entrance exam as a whole. The contract was all that remained, along with the results the following day.

The only hiccup had been the bizarre question about the costs of magic, and for everything else, he could only thank the gods.

The contracting room was sparse with white walls, nothing breakable in sight. In the middle, however, sat everything Leomaris needed to create his magic circle. Red powder, a blade, and rose candles with matches.

’The red powder originates from the Crimson Continent, and as only the Red Magic Tower has access to it, it is exceedingly rare and difficult to obtain.’

He gulped bile, hand moving toward the container his grimoire was sealed in. Even now, he could feel it calling out to him, and that only made him hesitate faster.

More bizarre still, the grimoire emitted something dark that had swallowed the entire container whole. Nothing about this grimoire seemed right, but his options were limited. He could only take it as it was if he wanted to live.

When he finally opened it, the dark fog that had filled the container puffed out and swallowed the room whole. Like ashes, but cold, awfully so. It vanished strangely soon after, and when Leomaris looked at the grimoire, he frowned.

’What the heck is this?’

He’d seen beautiful grimoires, Raine’s most of all, but his offered nothing of the sort. Dirty and worn, as though it had been abandoned from the very moment of its creation.

"Wait a minute..." He ran his fingers across the hard shell and took a closer look. "It’s covered in ashes. It looks this way because it was sealed in the container with that dark fog."

He finally smiled. Something genuinely dirty would have unsettled him far more than what he’d already seen. He’d read enough novels, comics, and anime to know that those things always ended with being a misfit tied to some demon.

’Better... shall we begin?’