Chapter 98 Act Crazy

Words : 1026 Updated : Sep 12th, 2025

Chapter 98 of "Misunderstood Villain: Heroines Mourn My Death" starts revealing surprises: *** {Outside The Projection} "..." "..." "..." "..." "..." "..." Silence. Not the usual silence of horror, shock, or disbelief. Just... understanding. The kind that... Read on!

*** {Outside The Projection} "..." "..." "..." "..." "..." "..." Silence. Not the usual silence of horror, shock, or disbelief. Just... understanding. The kind that settled in deep, like dust on an old book no one bothered to clean. And then someone let out a breath. "Even he... even he couldn't take it anymore... huh?" No one answered. No one needed to. It was obvious. It wasn't a surprise. It wasn't some grand revelation. It was inevitable. After everything—after the endless blinks, the blood, the loss, the cycle of suffering and fighting of dying and coming back—of course he snapped. Of course, he went for the kill the moment he got the chance. Of course, Malik played the game on his own terms. Played the only game he could, where he finally didn't just react to things but initiated them. And none of them, not a single one, could judge him for it. Not even the "hero." Because if it were them? If they'd been trapped like he was? If they'd been put through that Hell? They would've done the same. Most of them, anyway. "He really tried." Someone muttered, voice hoarse. "He really, really tried to keep it together." "Did he, though?" Another scoffed, shaking their head. "I mean... was he ever really 'together' to begin with?" "Like you wouldn't have done the same." "Of course, I would've! That's the point." "If we had a time loop to abuse, we'd be having all kinds of fun, wouldn't we?" A few chuckled darkly... He wasn't wrong. "But the Sultan? His 'fun' was killing his captors. Again. And again. And again. I'm sure what we've seen is only what he bothered to remember." No one laughed that time. Huda, who was on the ground, leaning her side on Crimson, had her hands clenched in her lap, trembling. She wasn't crying. No, that would've been easier. But she looked like she wanted to. Like something inside her had cracked so deep she couldn't even begin to patch it up. Crimson appeared in a similar state, his beak clicking softly. Slow. Sharp. His feathers fluffed and then settled repeatedly. He didn't blink. He just stared. Safira had turned away, arms wrapped around herself, her jaw tight enough to break teeth. She hadn't said a word since it had last resumed. Probably wouldn't for a while. Layla, though... she looked lost. Like she was still trying to process it. Like she'd been waiting for Malik to come out swinging, but now that he had—now that he'd done it—she wasn't sure how to feel about it. "I would've done worse." No one turned to see who had spoken. But they all knew—it had to be Azeem. And most of them agreed... they might have done worse. The projection hadn't shown a man unraveling, losing control. It hadn't captured some violent, frenzied descent into madness. No, it showed something far more haunting. It showed a man who fought to keep himself sane. A man who held himself together, piece by fragile piece, until there was nothing left to hold. And that... That was the most terrifying thing of all. *** If they thought he was going to kneel for them, they had no idea who they were dealing with. That day would not be repeated. Never. Eventually, they reached a massive building—tall, with towers that loomed over the surrounding streets. Unlike the churches, mosques, and temples he saw, this place had a different kind of authority to it. The Faraja Station. Or as the sign above the entrance read in bold golden letters: {Istgah Faraja: The Bastion of Divine Order} Quite a long and fancy name for a glorified dungeon. After a few nods and greetings, they entered, and the officers at the reception barely looked up as Malik was dragged through the halls. They passed by offices, rooms filled with officials, or as the nameplates called them, {Bureaucrat}, too busy with their paperwork to acknowledge anyone. Then, the scent shifted—musty, damp, metallic. They were heading downstairs. To the cells. The dungeon. Even now, Malik didn't resist. Not even a sound as they reached what would be his home for the rest of his long life. He appeared to have accepted this outcome completely. "Now stay in there until we call you." Cassim pushed him in, causing Malik to stumble for a step, only to stabilize in the next. Clang! The metal cell door slammed shut behind him, cementing his fate, and again, he didn't appear to be bothered by that. What bothered him, though, was that those fuckers didn't even unlock his chains. Malik turned to their leader and stared at him, deadpan. "Hey, Cassim." His head snapped towards him, surprise apparent on his face. "H-How do you—" "Shut." Continue reading at My Virtual Library Empire Cutting him off, slowly, he raised his bound hands and raised his middle fingers. "Fuck. You." Clutching his right fist, Cassim barely held himself back from lashing out and walked away. "That's what I thought." Malik leaned back against the cold stone wall, letting out a slow breath. This... all of this... it was funny really. He had never been stronger than he was now. Faster. Sharper. More dangerous than ever before. And yet, right now, he was at his lowest. The lowest he had ever been. Malik stared at the ceiling, mind sinking into places he didn't want to go. And then... "Act crazy." A whisper. Soft. Lingering. Right against his ear. He froze. For a second, he thought he imagined it. That maybe the exhaustion was finally making him hear shit. Then it came again. "Act crazy." Malik didn't react. Just kept his eyes on the ceiling, mind racing. Someone was trying to get him out. That much was obvious. The question was—who? And why? He had no allies in this place. No friends. No family. And yet, here he was. Hearing voices in the dark. Well. If they wanted a show... Malik could play crazy.

Chapter 98 Act Crazy

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