How to Stop the Villain from Going Crazy
Translator: Fuyu
Chapter 40 - They had become questions that haunted him (1)
After she left to take a bath, Erik read for a while. He suddenly heard a conversation from the hallway.
It was Trique and Boyd's voices. They were quietly talking at the top of the stairs, thinking that no one could hear them.
Unfortunately for them, Erik had unnaturally good-hearing and incredible talent for distinguishing pitch. In the vast jumble of a symphony, he could hear which musician made a mistake and on which section, page, or verse. He could even tell how much strength a pianist used in playing the piano keys just from listening.
To him, Trique and Boyd's low whispers sounded like a racket in a secluded place.
"Are you sure she'll come?" Boyd's voice was low and a little anxious.
"Of course," Trique said, "how could she be willing to stay with that hideous guy?"
"What does he look like?"
"He's not completely ugly. At the very least, half of his face is fine," Trique replied, "but when you see the other half of his face, you won't think so."
"What will we do if she doesn't read our letters? What if she throws away those three letters?" Boyd lowered his voice further. "You don't know how defensive she is. I spent so much time on her. I went on walks with her, watched shows with her, and listened to songs with her. If it was any other girl, she would have already fallen for me! This girl won't even let me touch her hand!"
"That's because you're stupid," Trique impatiently said, "You're too attached to acting like a gentleman. If you were just ruthless and forced her, we wouldn't have so many problems now."
Boyd fell silent.
"Are you in or not?" Trique kept pushing. "When this is done, she and the wallet will belong to you. Erik will be mine. Think clearly. That's Dawes' wallet. That guy is more ruthless than me. He's no different from a desperado. For the sake of money, he killed many freaks… You've seen how fat that wallet is."
After several seconds passed, Boyd finally made up his mind and said through gritted teeth, "I'll do it."
"Have her go to the house on Garden Villa Street," Trique said, "Remember, we're not desperados. If we can use soft means, then don't use knives or guns."
"I'm mainly worried about-"
"There's nothing to worry about," Trique calmly said, "Even with a missing finger, you're still a handsome young fellow. All women like handsome men."
Boyd still felt hesitant. "You don't know that girl… She doesn't seem interested in my appearance."
"My god!" Trique was annoyed that Boyd didn't live up to his expectations. "Where's your confidence? Let me put it this way, unless she's blind, she would never choose Erik over you!"
After hearing those words, Boyd finally stopped hesitating and agreed.
They stopped a passing hotel employee and gave him a tip to deliver three letters. The first letter at lunchtime, and the other two at dinnertime.
The hotel employee repeatedly agreed and promised he would complete the task himself.
After assigning that task, Trique and Boyd left.
The hallway was quiet again except for the sound of the cleaner's cart rolling over the carpet.
Erik looked at the book in his hand with an unfathomable look. He had picked up a random book from the hotel room's bookshelf to read because she said she could accompany him.
No one had ever said that to him. Out of curiosity, he stayed.
This was a mediocre and tedious to read story. The hero and heroine met and fell in love. They were driven by a magnetic attraction. They tasted each other's lips and tongues and drank each other's saliva.
However, halfway through the novel, they suddenly questioned their love for each other. Do you only love my face? Do you only love my wealth and fame?
He calmly closed the book and put it back on the bookshelf.
Unlike other men, he never had fantasies from reading explicit texts or engaged in self-gratification.
He treated those urges calmly and cruelly. He would stare at those unwanted reactions
with the cold eyes of a bystander until they disappeared.
Likewise, he wouldn't feel anything from reading the romance in the book.
He wouldn't fall in love with someone, and no one would fall in love with him.
From the moment he was born, he was destined to be detested, banished, and hunted.
He never considered himself human, so he naturally didn't have any feelings or a sense of obligation towards humans.
The next moment, the words in the book suddenly appeared in front of him like a mass of dark shadows.
Do you only love my face? Do you only love my wealth and fame?
Did he have wealth? Yes. He was a master at political assassination. He could take away someone's life without anyone noticing.
After he left Persia, Sultan Adbul Hamid II wrote to him. He wanted him to go to Constantiople to serve the Ottoman Empire by making secret doors, secret chambers, and safe rooms for him.
The rich were good at making money, and he was an expert at fleecing the rich. Fame and wealth were things that came easy to him. He could accumulate an inexhaustible amount of both if he wished.
What he really lacked was…
Do you only love my face?
Erik paused, took the book from the bookshelf, and threw it into the fireplace. The flames crackled and quickly engulfed the fragile, white papers.
And yet, the words that the hero and heroine asked each other broke away from the paper and hovered in front of him.
Under the entanglement of the flames, those words, those questions, gradually turned a shocking deep red as if they had been soaked in blood.
Do you only love my face? Do you only love my wealth and fame?
They had become questions that haunted him.
After the book was reduced to ashes, he left the room.