The Villain Who Changed the Ending

The transition was so sudden my head throbbed. One second, I was furiously typing an angry comment on my phone screen, cursing the tragic end of The Crimson Crown. The next, the smell of leather-bound books vanished, replaced by the heavy, metallic stench of iron and dried blood. I blinked, taking in my surroundings. High stone ceilings, dark velvet banners, and a sprawling black marble bedroom. "Greetings, traveler!" A high-pitched voice chimed near my ear. I flinched, looking over to see a tiny creature floating in mid-air. She had dark bat wings, a glittering pink dress, and a mischievous grin. "I am Nix, your friendly neighborhood Demon Fairy!" she squeaked, doing a dramatic loop. "I saw your comment! You said you'd treat them better and give them cuddles, right? Well, congratulations! You are now Prince Alistair, the sadist vampire villain!" "Wait—what?!" I looked down at my pale, immaculate hands. Intricate silver rings adorned my fingers, and a heavy embroidered coat draped over my shoulders. "Here’s the deal," Nix said, floating right in front of my nose. A glowing floating bar appeared above her head, glowing a bright, alarming crimson: HATRED: 100%. "You have thirty days to get that hatred bar down to absolute zero," Nix explained. "Erase ten years of suffering from their hearts. If you succeed, you go back to Earth with one billion dollars in your bank account. If you fail... well, on Day 30, they'll tear you apart, the curse will trigger, and you'll all die just like in the comic." Before I could reply, Nix vanished into a shower of purple sparks, leaving me alone with the quiet ticking of a grand clock. Thirty days. One billion dollars. And two deeply traumatized, lethal beasts waiting for me in the dungeons. I took a deep breath, gathered my courage, and headed downstairs. The subterranean prison was freezing. torchlight flickered against wet stone walls as I pushed open the heavy iron doors. The guards present immediately bowed low, their faces pale with fear. "Your Highness," the chief guard rasped, handing me a heavy leather whip. "Shall we prepare them for today's session?" "Leave," I said coldly, adjusting Alistair’s regal collar. "All of you. Out. And do not return to this level unless I call for you." The guards exchanged bewildered glances but didn't dare question me. They practically sprinted up the stairs. Once the heavy oak doors thudded shut, I turned toward the cells. On the left, bound to the wall by heavy, anti-magic obsidian chains, was Kalix. Even battered, bloody, and wearing a suppressor muzzle, his presence was staggering. His glowing golden dragon eyes locked onto mine, burning with sheer, unadulterated hatred. Smoke curled subtly from his nostrils. On the right, kept in a shallow, murky stone tank barely deep enough to submerge his torso, was Grey. The merman’s translucent blue scales were dull and cracked from dehydration. Dark magic shackles burned bright red against his delicate wrists. He pressed himself into the corner of the tank, his webbed hands trembling as he stared at me with cold, terrified eyes. My heart twisted. Seeing it drawn on paper was one thing; seeing them suffer right in front of me was unbearable. I tossed the leather whip into the corner with a loud clatter. Kalix’s eyes narrowed instantly, his body tensing, expecting a new, cruel psychological trick. I walked over to Kalix first. He let out a low, guttural growl that vibrated through the stone floor, his muscles straining against the chains. "Easy," I murmured softly, keeping my movements slow and predictable. I reached into my coat, pulled out the silver key ring I’d found in Alistair’s pocket, and unlocked his muzzle first. The moment the iron mask dropped, Kalix lunged, his sharp dragon fangs snapping inches from my throat. I didn't flinch. I just stood my ground. "If you bite my head off now, you'll never get these off," I said gently, holding up the keys for his heavy chains. Kalix froze, his heavy chest heaving as he stared at me in total shock. I moved behind him, unlatching the massive obsidian cuffs one by one. As the heavy metal clattered to the floor, Kalix collapsed to his knees, his raw, bleeding wrists exposed. He looked up at me, his golden eyes filled with deep suspicion. "What game is this, Alistair?" his voice was rough, like grinding stones, unused to speaking softly. "A new form of torture?" "No game," I replied softly. "Just a long overdue apology." Leaving the stunned dragon on the floor, I walked over to Grey’s tank. The merman shrank back, his iridescent tail splashing defensively. I ignored his defensive hiss, stepped up to the edge, and unlocked his wrist shackles. Then, I found the lever for the main water valve. Clear, warm spring water began to flood the tank, washing away the stagnant, dirty grime. I reached for a nearby basket of fresh, raw ocean fish—something Alistair had deliberately withheld—and set it gently on the edge of the stone ledge. "Eat," I whispered to Grey. "You're safe now." Grey didn't touch the food. He just stared at the overflowing warm water, then up at me, his icy blue eyes wide with confusion. Above their heads, the glowing red numbers shifted slightly: HATRED: 98%.