The Villains Must Win-Chapter 81: The Void

Alexander and Celeste’s love story became the kind that poets wrote about, the kind that defied time itself. Together, they built a life full of laughter, passion, and unwavering devotion. They had seven children—each a testament to the love that had bound them together so completely.

And as the years passed, their love never faded, only deepened, growing richer with every moment spent in each other’s arms.

As for Riley, she was still alive—but no one knew where. Alexander had ensured she disappeared from their lives forever, exiling her to a remote, forgotten island where she could never again reach for what was never meant to be hers.

Ethan, on the other hand, refused to let go. Time and time again, he tried to come between them, desperate to expose Alexander’s fault, to tear them apart.

But Celeste had already warned Alexander beforehand, and by the time Ethan launched his accusations, the evidence had already been turned against him. Instead of ruining Alexander, Ethan found himself ensnared in his own web of deceit. Fraud, scams, illegal dealings—his crimes had been meticulously documented, and with proof planted so flawlessly, there was no escape.

Ethan spent the rest of his days behind bars, his name erased from history.

And so, nothing stood between Alexander and Celeste’s love.

They grew old together, their home always filled with warmth, the laughter of their children, and the echoes of love that had never dimmed. Until the very end, Alexander never stopped looking at Celeste like she was his entire world, and she never stopped being the reason he breathed.

When their time came, they left this world the way they had always lived—side by side, hands entwined, with hearts that had beaten for each other from the very start.

Their love became legend, a tale whispered through time, proving that some love stories truly do last forever.

. . .

. . .

"Now that’s how to satisfy a villain!"

I found myself back in the void, greeted by the ever-enthusiastic bunny, who was clapping his tiny paws together. If he could, I was sure he’d be clapping his feet too.

"So . . . does this mean I get my stars now?" I asked, grinning.

The bunny nodded sagely. "A job well done! I’d say you almost died twice, but hey, at least you avoided it. Unlike a certain incident with Han Feng . . ."

I ignored the remark. "Alright, so how many stars did I get?"

The bunny looked me up and down before letting out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. You get perfect stars."

[RECEIVED! 5 STARS!]

My eyes sparkled like the stars themselves. "Ohhh, so five is the perfect score, huh?"

"That’s right, in that level of world at least."

"So how many do I need for a wish?"

The bunny stiffened, as if regretting ever speaking to me. ". . . Stop getting ahead of yourself. You still have a long way to go."

I narrowed my eyes. "Like how long?"

He huffed, clearly annoyed by my persistence, and finally snapped, "A thousand stars, alright?! So stop asking!"

"A thousand . . ." I grinned, undeterred. "That’s not too far off!"

The bunny gave me the deadest, most unimpressed stare. "You’re really positive. I honestly can’t tell if that’s a good trait . . . or a dangerous one."

I ignored his existential crisis and jumped onto my toes. "Alright! On to the next villain!"

The bunny just stared at me, unimpressed. "Well, at least you’re enthusiastic. Most people get exhausted after a few rounds. Some even quit. Actually . . . most quit."

He muttered something under his breath, probably questioning his life choices. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

I clapped my hands together. "Alright, let’s go, Bunny! I’m collecting all these stars and getting my wish. Oh, and you did say I’ll get access to the shop once I have enough stars, right?"

The bunny blinked. "I thought you’d never ask."

With a flick of his cane, a glowing screen popped up in front of me.

And just like that, I knew—I was about to be very broke.

A dazzling holographic screen appeared before me, filled with shimmering trinkets that pulsed with raw magic. The prices? Absolutely ridiculous. My five measly stars were about as useful as pocket lint here.

⭐ MAGIC SHOP ⭐

🔮 Featured Items:

🔹 [Phoenix Tear Pendant] – A single drop of phoenix blood encased in crystal. Revives the wearer once after death.

— Price: 500 Stars

🔹 [Cursed Dice of Fate] – Roll the dice to alter destiny . . . but be warned, fate doesn’t like being cheated.

— Price: 700 Stars

🔹 [Voidwalker’s Cloak] – Lets you phase through walls and slip into the Void for a short time. Not responsible for getting stuck there.

— Price: 200 Stars

🔹 [Pocket Dimension Key] – Grants access to a private storage space in an unknown realm. May or may not come with a mysterious tenant.

— Price: 500 Stars

🔹 [Wishmaker’s Quill] – Rumored to write wishes into reality . . . if you can afford its ink.

— Price: 10,000 Stars

✨ Discount Bin (Still Out of My Budget):

🔸 [Mystery Egg] – It’s warm and sometimes it wiggles. What’s inside? No one knows!

— Price: 250 Stars

🔸 [Suspiciously Normal Rock] – It’s a rock. Or is it?

— Price: 100 Stars

🔸 [One Single French Fry] – It’s perfectly crispy and eternally warm. Possibly enchanted. Possibly just really well-cooked.

— Price: 50 Stars

I scrolled down in despair. Even the discount bin was out of my reach.

The bunny smirked, clearly enjoying my suffering. "See something you like?"

"Yeah. Everything." I deadpanned.

"Well," he said, patting me on the head like a disappointed parent, "better start earning, champ."

. . . This was going to take a while.

The Road to Villainy (and Broke-ness) is what I would call it.

I glanced at the shop screen, feeling the sting of poverty in my soul. 5 stars. Just 5 measly stars. Even the "Suspiciously Normal Rock" was out of my price range.

With a heavy sigh, I turned to the bunny, who was grinning like he was enjoying my suffering. "Okay, is there anything I can afford with 5 stars?"

The bunny stroked his fluffy chin thoughtfully before snapping his fingers. "Ah, yes! We do have one item within your budget."

A new option popped up on the screen:

🔸 [Half-Eaten Lollipop] – Tastes like regret. Provides absolutely no benefits.

— Price: 5 Stars