Surviving In This Filthy World As A Novel Villain

"Fine. Just one sip, then." By lowering the bar, he left her with no room to refuse. One sip instead of a full glass.

Riley hesitated. She was naïve, but she wasn’t foolish. If she kept refusing, she might really upset him.

Biting her lip, she took two steps forward, carefully picking up the glass. Just as she brought it to her lips, she met his gaze—cold and unreadable.

Her heart skipped a beat. In her panic, her ’small sip’ turned into a large mouthful.

The drink was smooth, surprisingly refreshing, with a faint citrusy sweetness lingering on her tongue. It wasn’t as harsh as she had feared.

For a brief moment, she even thought—Maybe… I could take another sip?

But what she didn’t realize was that her face was already flushed red, all the way to her ears. This particular dry martini had been specially mixed by the bartender. The alcohol burn was mild, but its effects?

Immediate. Alex gave a small nod of approval.

"Your name is Riley, right?" He leaned back, voice casual. "Where are you from?"

"My… my hometown is in the country side," she murmured, her voice softer than before. A light buzz had settled into her head, making everything feel a little… floaty.

Alex saw the change and seized the moment. With the right words and just a little push, walls crumble.

And with alcohol? Even faster. Soon, the conversation flowed. Riley, who had been reserved just moments ago, started to open up.

Bit by bit, her secrets spilled out.

"…Late-stage cancer?" Alex frowned, as if troubled by the news. "That’s… a difficult situation." His voice carried just the right amount of sympathy.

At his words, Riley’s lips trembled. The emotions she had been suppressing, the stress, the fear, the helplessness, burst free all at once.

Tears welled up in her eyes. Then… "Waaahhh!" She collapsed onto the couch, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Grandma is my only family!" she wailed, gripping the fabric of the sofa. "Even if there’s only the tiniest chance, I have to save her… I have to!"

Alex didn’t soften his words. "Late-stage liver cancer." He swirled the remaining liquor in his glass, watching the liquid catch the dim light. His voice was cold, detached—merciless.

"To put it bluntly, that’s practically a death sentence. No matter how much effort you put in, it could all be for nothing. In the end, you’ll just drain your savings, and you’ll still lose her." Riley’s entire body tensed.

"And the worst part?" He leaned back, his tone calm but cutting. "The treatment you’re paying for? It’s not a cure… it’s just prolonging her suffering." His words struck deep, right into the most fragile part of her heart.

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"…I—I know," Riley choked out between sobs, her small hands clutching the fabric of her dress so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Tears streamed down her face, her breath coming in uneven gasps. "But… but what else can I do?" Her voice broke.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew what late-stage liver cancer meant. She knew the survival rate was nearly nonexistent.

She knew that in modern medicine, there had never been a successful case of recovery from it. And yet… she still clung to hope.

There are cases of people surviving other types of cancer. So why… why couldn’t my grandma be the exception? Though she doesn’t know that her grandmother is that one exception…

Her thoughts spiraled, drowning in desperation. People don’t feel grief the same way. Riley was collapsing under the weight of her pain, while Alex? He was enjoying this.

Watching her emotions unravel, watching the cracks deepen, it was exhilarating. This should be enough. If he pushed any further, she might actually break.

Alex set his glass down and moved closer, settling beside her on the couch. Then, slowly, he reached out and patted her back.

The warmth of his touch, so unexpected, made Riley flinch. His next words, however, changed everything.

"Actually," he said, voice dropping just slightly, "late-stage liver cancer isn’t completely untreatable. I have a friend."

Riley froze. Her breath caught in her throat, her body going rigid. Then—she snapped her head up.

Her tear-streaked face, still flushed from the alcohol, lifted toward him. Her wide, swollen eyes shimmered with unshed tears. And in them, for the first time since the conversation started, there was hope.

At that moment, as she stared at Alex, it was as if she was looking at light.

The private lounge was heavy with the scent of alcohol, its dim lighting casting long shadows over the plush leather seating.

Riley’s cheeks were flushed from the effects of the drink, her head swimming in a haze of intoxication and exhaustion. Strands of her dark hair clung to her tear-streaked face, disheveled from her earlier breakdown.

She lay sprawled over the soft sofa, her legs bent beneath her, sheer stockings pressed against the cool floor. Her body felt weak, drained—but Alex’s words struck her like a jolt of electricity.

Her hazy mind barely had time to process, but instinct alone forced her upright. ’What did he just say? Did he mean he had a way to save my grandmother?’

For a moment, her chaotic thoughts cleared, and in her unfocused, watery eyes, a flicker of hope ignited. It has to be true.

Alex was powerful, wealthy, and well-connected. If anyone could know a way to save her grandmother, it would be him.

Driven by desperation, Riley moved on her knees, shifting slightly to face him fully. Her delicate fingers clutched the hem of his expensive suit, her grip trembling yet firm.

"Sir," she pleaded, her voice raw, fragile. "You must have a way, right? You can save my grandmother, can’t you?"

Alex looked down at the girl kneeling before him, meeting her pleading gaze with a calm, unreadable expression.

The alcohol was already working through her system, making her more emotional, more reckless, but the sheer desperation in her voice kept her momentarily grounded.

…

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(A/N: Next Chapter Soon! Some Golden tickets guys!!!)

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