Apocalypse Villainess? Nah, I'm Nice

Paige Summers stared at him for a long moment, then suddenly chuckled.

She laughed until the other person’s face turned red before clucking her tongue. "Anyone can see you don’t have a head for business. Showing up on their doorstep like that? It’d be a miracle if they agreed! Hmm, but this is a viable path forward, and a pretty good one at that. How about this: you just focus on making the medicine. I’ll figure out how to procure the ingredients and handle sales. Come on, let’s discuss what kinds of medicine to make and what level of efficacy we should aim for..."

Their group quickly became engrossed in a lively discussion.

Meanwhile, in the Middle District, on the third floor of the quaint, antique-style building known as Serenity Pavilion, Marcus Monroe and Sylas Underwood sat facing each other on a sofa in a vast room. Each held a glass of wine, a silent stillness between them.

Judging by appearances alone, Sylas Underwood could have passed for one of those dandies from a pre-apocalypse Noble House who knew only a life of pleasure. His well-proportioned, slender body was sprawled lazily on the sofa. He had a creamy-white complexion, handsome features, and an air of arrogance and nonchalance. But Marcus Monroe knew better. This guy had always been more cunning than most, and after the apocalypse began, he awakened a brain-enhancing Spiritual Ability, making him even more formidable. If he wanted to, he could scheme a man to death, and his victim would still think he was the nicest person in the world.

There was just one catch: his superpower had nothing to do with combat.

This was balance.

After a long silence, Sylas looked over with a smirk. "Are you really going to let your ’dear brother’ off the hook?"

Marcus took a sip of his wine. "If he continues to know nothing, then I’ll let it be."

Sylas scoffed. "You’ve been gone a few years and changed so much. That’s not what you said back then!"

’Have I changed that much?’

Marcus lowered his gaze to the tall wine glass. It reflected his distorted face, but he could still clearly see that he had indeed grown up and matured compared to back then.

’Yes, back then...’ When he had just found out that his mother hadn’t died of illness but had been murdered by that woman who coveted the title of Mrs. Monroe—a woman who had bribed someone close to his mother to do the deed. He had been so furious, a walking powder keg ready to blow the newly built Citadel to smithereens at any moment.

’The person who killed my mother deserved to die! Graham Monroe, who chose to stand by and watch, deserved to die just as much! And as for that woman’s child, I would never let him off easy!’

Back then, he had hated them all.

But to Sylas’s surprise, he had chosen to endure it patiently.

’Because every time I see Graham Monroe and that woman who has successfully taken my mother’s place, including their son Shawn Monroe, I think, no, I can’t let them off that easily. What is death? I want them to live a life worse than death! I want them to regret what they’ve done day and night, to be tormented by fear and pain, to never find release for all eternity!’

Shawn Monroe’s mother, Rhiannon Grant, was now a withered husk of a person, barely recognizable as human. She was afraid of light and people. She didn’t even dare to see her own husband and son, spending her days cowering and trembling in the corner of a small room in the back courtyard. She had been living like this for nearly ten years.

As for Graham Monroe, Marcus had figured that what a man like him feared most was falling from his high position into the dust. That was why the first step in his plan had been to seize his father’s power, which led to the rumors that he was fighting with Shawn Monroe for the title of Young City Lord. The people on the outside had no idea that what he truly wanted was the position of City Lord itself.

Others might not have seen through him, but back then, his actions weren’t subtle enough to fool Graham Monroe.

So, the father and son had a talk.

Marcus finally lost his composure and exploded.

It was only then that he learned that Graham Monroe had never known the true cause of his wife’s death.

The man had spent his entire life focused on building his power outside the home, paying little attention to the affairs of his household. It was doubtful he had much affection for any of his women.

But this time, he, too, grew angry.

Of course, more than avenging his wife, he was furious that someone had deceived him and schemed behind his back.

From then on, he left Rhiannon Grant to languish in that small room, paying her no more attention. He wouldn’t let her die, but simply left her to a life worse than a dog’s.

But Shawn Monroe was different.

He was his son, after all, and he didn’t know what his mother had done. He had doted on his father for years, and the two had a very strong bond. Graham had no choice but to persuade the still-hateful Marcus to let go of his own flesh-and-blood brother.

Faced with such a father, Marcus gradually calmed down.

Things had reached a point where, although the intense hatred had faded, it was impossible for their relationship to return to what it once was.

A rift remained.

He could only say that, for the sake of his mother who had loved his father to her dying breath, he would maintain the superficial father-son relationship and leave it at that.

That was why he no longer thought of destroying The Dead City. Instead, he left, and he was gone for several years.

He hadn’t even come back this time for his father’s sake.

As for Shawn Monroe...

Marcus let out a soft laugh. "Even if I’ve changed, I am still me."

Sylas narrowed his eyes. "Oh? Does that mean your ’let it be’ isn’t exactly good news for him?"

Marcus’s lips curled, but there was no mirth in his eyes. "Originally, I really couldn’t be bothered with him. He’s just a frog in a well; I was content to let him fend for himself. The only one he can blame is himself for messing with someone he shouldn’t have." ’That’s why I’ve been so busy. Shawn Monroe has quite a few spies planted in the Lower and Middle Districts. I found them to be an eyesore, so I started secretly replacing them one by one. This kind of game is always more fun when you play it slowly.’

Sylas froze for a second, then his eyes went wide. "Hey! You can’t be talking about that little girl, can you? You’ve actually fallen for her?"

Marcus replied nonchalantly yet decisively, "I don’t know. But I find her interesting. So, until I’m sure, he shouldn’t even think about it."

"PFFT-HAHAHA..." Sylas burst out laughing, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. "You really are something else! That possessiveness of yours has only gotten worse! And to think you acted all prim and proper in front of that young lady. Even I just thought you appreciated her talent. I never expected... If that girl knew what you were thinking, wouldn’t she run for the hills immediately?"

’It’s precisely because I know that that I rein in my true intentions.’

Marcus drank the rest of the wine in his glass, unconcerned.

However, that side of him wasn’t false, either. A person doesn’t have just one face. He understood the principle of taking things step by step perfectly well, and as for patience, that was something he had in spades.

What he needed now was just to slowly figure out his own feelings.

"By the way, there’s an auction in a few days. I’m planning to take her with me."

"That thing? It’s nothing special. The really good stuff never makes it to the auction; it’s all handled privately beforehand."

Marcus shook his head. "Just to join in on the fun. She should enjoy it. I was busy the last few days and wasn’t paying attention, which gave Shawn Monroe the chance to show up at her door... Consider it an apology gift."

Sylas shrugged. "Suit yourself. But you were too careless. Be careful something doesn’t happen."

Thinking of how she had fired that Poison Arrow in the forest without a moment’s hesitation, Marcus smiled. "She’s not that weak. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be interested."