Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I have to be perfect if I want to succeed.

Vil Schoenheit lived his life in the spotlight. It had been that way since he was a young boy, sometimes to his detriment. He was a child star who aged into a young adult career. What else was he to expect of his life? Vil knew that others saw him differently. He couldn’t change that.

From when he was a child, adults around him praised his work. He was a talented young man, a good actor, and a pretty face. They were proud of him. He wanted them to be proud of him. He felt the confidence of a legendary actor when those around him told him he had done a good job.

He wanted that to be how it felt all the time. Vil wanted to be the center of attention and be appreciated for the work he did. But it wasn’t exactly what was happening everywhere. The attention he received was not always positive, the roles he played were not always ones that bettered his relationships with others.

Being honest about the topic, Vil would have been the first to admit that he loathed the roles he played even when he was quite young. They were fun at first, to explore a darker side that such a young child would typically never have… But it grew old doing the same thing each time.

Vil would hear the audience cheer as the main character prevailed against him. He ignored it. He would see the child actors who played “heroes” receive applause every time they moved. 

And he knew he wanted that. It was so unfair.

So he tried. Vil tried in his youth to audition for those roles. Just once, he wanted to be the star, the hero, the one that everyone loved. He didn’t want to be mean. He didn’t want the other kids telling him what a monster he was, and how badly he treated some character in a movie.

Movies aren’t real, he wanted to say. I’m not a mean person.

I couldn’t say it, though. Not when everyone expected this of me.

Even now, at eighteen, Vil knew that others saw him in certain lights. He had fans, of course. He was beloved by his fans, and followed by millions on every platform. He was popular and he had the creepy fanmail to prove it. Still, there remained those who saw him as “ the villain.”

Perhaps it was good, though. He could see the upside of it. Dinah was right, in a sense, when she said that he was being offered bigger and better parts. Vil couldn’t deny the truth of that, but that did not change his stance. It wasn’t what he wanted anymore.

It was boring , he told her. Vil refused to be typecast as the “sexy glamorous villain.” It was a compliment and an insult wrapped into one to have such a problem. He was successful, he was getting work, and yet the world wanted to refuse him the human right to try new things, to experience things in a way different than before. It made him feel ill.

Is that all they think I can do?

In truth, it was more than just “boredom” that spurned his aggressive and persistent refusal to play any more villains in upcoming films. It had to be. One does not show such venomous anger when the motivation for change is simply “I am bored of this now.”

Vil knew that but he would rather not admit it. 

He could never call himself “traumatized.” That was a loaded word and not one that he felt could apply to him. His father was caring, his work was successful. As many people could point out, he had everything in comparison to a so-called regular person. How could he be traumatized?

It might have been internalized, however. That thought pattern might have not been Vil’s original belief. But who was he to ignore such things? Everyone around him said that it was “okay.” They were proud of him for booking roles, and for being famous. He was doing such a good job .

The praise of those closest to him in the industry eased him away from such thoughts. He didn’t need to think about those formative years. He was eighteen now, he was an adult. There were many more opportunities for him. The past was the past and the future was right now.

It’s best to focus on the task at hand.

Dinah would tell him that he could play another part, down the line, in the future, if he kept taking on the roles she found for him. He would have to accept it eventually. He didn’t want to, he would fight back for as long as he could… Still, after the VDC, what other excuse would he have?

His excuse to refuse the movies these days was that school was “very busy.” Exams, quizzes, and preparing for senior year, were all valid schooltime activities. He was a housewarden to Pomefiore no less. There was never a spare moment between his first and fifty-forth task.

Do you know how busy that makes someone, Dinah?

That woman annoyed Vil to no end. It was as though she knew everything yet understood nothing all the same. She acted as though he was immature for wanting to be seen in a new light, as though she were the teacher and he was a child whining for a part in the school play he didn’t deserve. That was far from how he felt. He knew he would need to work for things.

It’s always him.

Vil knew that it was unfair but he couldn’t help it. His entire life was spent watching Neige LeBlanche, another actor who had grown up in the industry with him, get every role he wanted. He was constantly compared to him. They were nearly the same age, after all, they had been in fierce competition since they were just little spuds. The adults had instigated that.

I never wanted to have a rival. I just wanted to act .

I wanted to be just like my father .

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of the thoughts he was having.

“Roi du Poison, tell me what ails you,” said the accented voice of his vice housewarden.

Rook Hunt was an interesting person, that was the word that Vil chose to use to describe the man on a good day. On a bad day, Rook was “insufferable” and a “frustrating bastard.” Regardless, today was a generally acceptable day and Rook had every right to be worried about Vil.

Even the actor knew that he had been making some kind of odd expression. It was slight, subtle to most, and glaringly obvious to Rook. The huntsman knew Vil better than anyone else in this school, better than even his most dedicated fans. Rook could tell that something weighed on him.

“Too many things to explain now, Rook,” Vil told him quietly, giving as reassuring a smile as he could muster, “We need to focus on practice or these spuds won’t be ready for the performance.”

The smiles that Rook Hunt is blessed with from his housewarden come in many flavors. Some are cold as ice, meant to scare those who dare to cross him. Other times they are perfect in every way and made for the runway stage. However, the kind that only the closest saw, that Rook was so graciously privy to, were the gentle smiles that made Vil seem as though he was just a boy.

Rook nodded at the Pomefiore Housewarden’s words, taking every syllable Vil uttered with the utmost seriousness. He still seemed worried, the actor could tell, but Vil watched as the huntsman accepted the situation without question.

Rook was strange, a peculiar person in speech and habits, but he was not one to force something out of his housewarden, out of Vil Schoenheit of all people. Vil respected this aspect of the man.

“Help me with the group. We need to run through this choreography at least two more times before we head back to the prefect’s dormitory,” Vil told Rook.

Back to business .

The hunter nodded a second time, smiling that ominous smile that made others uneasy.

“Oui, I do think practice will help them blossom into beautiful flowers,” Rook agreed.

Vil did not have the time or patience to comment on Rook’s phrasing. He let the man be himself.

With that, practice commenced once more, a group rehearsal of Vil’s commissioned song and dance began after Vil had let each member practice their part alone for some time.

They’re still messy . Better than before, but messy.

Part of Vil wished he could be nicer and part of him was nagging that they needed to improve tenfold before the big showcase. Deuce could dance but he was still a bit stiff. Ace spun too fast during one run-through and almost knocked Epel into Kalim into Jamil . Jamil was doing quite well and was the least irritating of the bunch except for his personality. It was… a lot.

And, while Vil hated to say anything bad about arguably his most loyal friend in this entire school, Rook’s fatal flaw in their very short number was singing about fourteen times louder than everyone else in the group. It was to the point that Vil dared to say that the hunter was dramatically reciting his parts as if they were some kind of poetry .

“Let us try it one more time,” Vil instructed the group, earning protests from the first years.

They were about to tell the Ramshackle Prefect to begin the music when Grim suddenly tumbled into Ace, trying to join the number for the nth time since they began rehearsing a few weeks prior.

“Fuck off!” Ace yelled from the heap that he was on the floor, swatting at Grim with a hand.

“Ace, don’t swear in front of Housewarden Schoenheit,” Deuce said, glaring at his dormmate.

“Deuce, don’t act like some goody-goody!” Ace countered, sticking his tongue out at Deuce.

The two of them began squabbling in a way that no one could understand but them (and maybe Yuu, but Yuu was trying to stay out of this one for their own sake). 

“Both of you, quiet ,” Vil said, his anger like a seething fire rising into the frame behind him.

Both firstyears instantly shut their mouths, not daring to speak up against him. It was a mixture of fear, reverence, and the fact that, ultimately, Vil was right. They needed to focus if they wanted this dance to be good enough to place in the VDC.

I am going to break out from stress if these spuds don’t get their acts together.

We don’t have a lot of time left before the showcase.

Focused on controlling the group so they could rehearse without any interruptions, Vil missed the glance from Rook in the commotion of getting Ace and Deuce to focus again.

“Do you boys remember what we all had agreed upon?” Vil asked them.

They both nodded, hanging their heads in defeat. Deuce was ashamed of his behavior in front of one of the strictest housewardens next to his own. Ace was just tired of being around strict people at all. First Riddle, now Vil. The only difference was the scope of their power. Riddle only held power in Heartslabyul, maybe NRC as a whole… Vil had fans worldwide .

“Yes…” they replied in unison.

“Yes, what? ” Vil asked, urging them to use the proper address for him as they were within the walls of the Pomefiore dormitory.

“Yes, Housewarden Schoenheit,” Ace and Deuce said, speaking in unison once more.

“Very good,” Vil said, one of those practiced wicked smiles on his lips, “Let us begin again.”

You have to do this so they finally understand.

Vil ignored the voice in his head, moving in time with the rest of the group as they perfected the choreography. With Vil as their center and Jamil and Epel with solos, the model was sure that the arrangement was correct. Epel, his secret weapon, his poison apple. Jamil, the most innately talented of his auditioned members.

Perfecting their movements, honing their vocal skills… They had a good shot at winning.

If you don’t win, then Neige wins. Again .

Do you really want that?

Vil turned in time as he stepped back to allow Jamil centerstage for his solo. The practiced movements were the same each time, that was how he was taught. Moving with music as though he was an extension of it, even the other members of the group could see the gap in skill between most of them and Vil Schoenheit. He was not so acclaimed for no reason.

Are you sure you can handle yet another loss?

What will they think of you then?

Vil was not sure what anyone would think of him. It was possible their opinions would change, a polished and famous actor leading them to a loss of such magnitude, but it was entirely plausible that they already thought negatively of him. Vil was certain Epel thought of him as some kind of evil stepmother turned ballet instructor.

They think of you as some villain even in their lives.

That is all you will ever be if you let Neige win, let him take this from you .

The voice was getting harder to ignore, but Vil could not afford to lose focus as he stepped back into the center position to lead the ending verses of the song until it closed out.

Yuu stopped the track from repeating, offering a small round of applause for the group.

“You guys did great! That was amazing!” they said, directing their praise at everyone.

“It was pretty good,” Grim agreed, “But it would have been better with me in it, nya.”

“Grim! That’s so rude!” Yuu scolded their other half, “Apologize to them. Now.”

“What? No way! ”

It was a bit of an argument, but Grim relented after Yuu’s scolding persisted, bowing his head as best as he could with his round body, two paws together in respect towards the group.

The peace could only last so long, though. Grim was not a quiet cat. He was very… rowdy.

“You guys better win this competition!” Grim told them with a toothy grin.

“You bet we will!” Ace agreed.

“We will only know after we compete,” Vil reminded them from a distance away, having stepped to the side to drink some water along with Jamil and Kalim (who only joined them after Jamil told him to drink water so he didn’t perish).

“What do you mean?” Ace countered, “We’re doing really good! You got us costumes and choreography! Of course, we’ll win!”

“Don’t be so callous ,” Vil said, tone dropping to a level that never meant anything good, “We are competing with others who have practiced just as much, who have tried just as hard. Do you truly believe yourself to be better than everyone , so high above the rest?”

I’m not even sure who I’m talking about.

Vil’s voice was filled with many emotions, above all of them was disgust . It was a tone that the group had not heard from Vil before. Even Ace was startled by it, prickling at the change in the room’s atmosphere.

Am I describing myself ? Or Neige ?

Ace mumbled an apology a moment later after Yuu shot him a look that Deuce matched.

Vil sighed as the anger left him. It was a bit embarrassing to have such a side of himself shown. But, in the end, it was only a sliver of that beaten part of him, a drop of the blot that was rooting itself within Vil Schoenheit without his knowledge or permission. This was a long time coming and yet it still hadn’t happened.

The group ended their rehearsal on that note, a negative that Vil was displeased with but could not fix. Together, the group walked from Pomefiore to Ramshackle, separating upon entry to head to their assigned rooms for bed.

Vil had made it clear that they had bedtimes now, no matter how old they were.

As they were each heading to bed, Rook glanced at Pomefiore’s Queen again.

This time Vil noticed.

“What is it now, Rook?” Vil asked, eager to get to bed after a long day.

It was important for his skin, after all, to maintain a healthy sleep schedule.

“Roi du Poison, tout va bien pour toi?”

This again ?

Rook…

Vil sighed. And there was the French, a language that Rook only used fully when he was most concerned about something, or someone. In this case, the “someone” was Vil.

“I am fine, I told you that,” he said, maintaining his normal posture, “It will be alright.”

Please stop asking me that.

I can’t… Nothing good comes from sharing these things.

Rook’s expression did not look entirely convinced, but he nodded.

“Bonne nuit, Ma Reine,” Rook told him, holding Vil’s hand in his gloved ones for a short moment before letting go to retire for the night.

“Indeed. Goodnight, Rook,” Vil told the hunter, stepping into his guest room and closing the door a second later.

But it was not a good night and there was no sleeping well.

It was unlike him to be awake past his usual bedtime. Still, he couldn’t push down these thoughts as they consumed his mind. It had been steadily worsening the closer the day of the VDC came.

“This is… bothersome to say the least,” Vil said to himself, barely above a whisper.

You need to win.

You have to win.

It began with his voice echoing in his mind before he heard other voices, familiar voices.

Neige is the hero and you are the villain .

Vil is such a cute boy but Neige is cuter .

That Vil is such mean one, surely he’s just as wicked in real life.

How could Vil do that to Neige? Neige is such a sweetheart. Vil is evil .

Vil Schoenheit fell asleep to the sounds of his past, fearing what would happen if he were to lose to Neige again if he were to take second place with his team in the VDC. It wasn’t a pleasant image. Neige waved to fans as he was once again deemed second to that annoying boy. Would he always be less than him?

No,  I  won’t  let  that happen…

I don’t deserve to live if I’m incapable of these feats.

Sighing, Vil pulled out his phone against his better judgment.

“Mira, Mira, who is the fairest of them all?” he whispered to the device.

Mira, as always, returned an answer instantly: Neige LeBlanche.

Oh. That settles it, then.

Chapter Text

How… unpleasant .

Vil was unsure of what to make of the current set of circumstances if he was being honest. Sometimes the things that happened at Night Raven were beyond his scope. Was that something he was allowed to say? For a person who always presented with an aura of perfection, he figured that it would be too jarring to admit such shortcomings on his part.

He does need to cease that tantrum of his.

Does he not understand what it means to use your assets ?

The group was instantly divided as Epel ran away from Vil. Even Kalim seemed worried about the situation, looking toward Jamil for an explanation of what to do next. Instead of providing any valuable insight as Kalim wished, Jamil shushed Scarabia’s housewarden, urging him to shy away from the conflict. It wasn’t their business. Jamil probably thought something like that.

“Housewarden Schoenheit, don’t you think that was a bit too… harsh ?” Deuce asked Vil.

Vil sighed, launching into the third or fourth lecture that day, which revolved around balancing diets, taking care of oneself, and focusing on improving before a show or a “big game.” Regardless of what he had said, however, he felt as though it fell on ears unwilling to listen.

Why do I even bother ?

Let’s finish this.

“Then do not speak as though you are a full-fledged ensemble member of you’re still, at best… dead weight ,” Vil told Deuce, refusing to be some kind of sweet-as-honey preschool teacher.

Vil Schoenheit did have a wicked tongue hidden behind those pretty purple lips. Everyone from Pomefiore knew that and perhaps Vil’s classmates as well. He could be startlingly direct at the cost of coming off as though he were some kind of overly critical mother .

“I’m sorry, sir,” Deuce said, dejected.

What Vil had said urged, without any intention for this on Vil’s part, Ace to speak up. Vil did not care to bother with first-year squabbles, but he did hear Ace critique Deuce’s ability to respect authority. Vil wouldn’t have disagreed with that.

It did not end there, however, and the two began to argue, the conflict escalating at alarming speeds, faster than anyone could have dreamed of intervening, even the prefect or Grim.

“YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT!!?” Deuce suddenly shouted, gaining everyone’s full attention with only a few words, “A “smart guy” like you would never understand.”

With that Deuce ran from the ballroom as well and Vil was just about ready to scream though he would never actually do so. No, screaming and crying were for children. He was far beyond such games of manipulation. His voice would become louder, statements more pointed. He would be a harsher critic if need be, but he would not be caught dead crying like some helpless infant.

“What the fuck? What was that about?” Ace asked the group, “Dude, I am so confused.”

“Ace,” Yuu turned to their classmate, “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

They gave a disappointed look.

“Everybody’s got their own things going on…” Yuu offered to the ginger who wasn’t listening.

Yuu then moved to follow Deuce’s lead in taking off only to be stopped by Vil’s stern gaze, refusing to let anyone else leave campus lest they earn the ire of the Headmage. Contrary to Yuu’s reaction, Ace didn’t seem to care. Grim took on a “mature” tone as he scolded Ace.

In addition to the Ramshackle Prefect’s failed attempt to sprint out of the ballroom, Rook also shifted slightly now that Epel (and then soon after, Deuce) had run from the dorm building.

Others may not have noticed, but Vil was not just anyone. While many of the beastmen and merfolk alike avoided Rook in his entirety to spare themselves the headache that the man could become when he wanted to study “prey,” Vil always paid close attention to those around him.

It was not only Rook, of course, the hunter was just an easy example. Vil watched everyone, in ways both similar and different to the huntsman’s stalking habits.

“ Rook ,” Vil called out to his vice housewarden almost instantly.

“Hmm?” Rook hummed, awaiting some instruction or request from the head of Pomefiore.

“Stay here,” Vil ordered from where he stood, not bothering to make his request more flowery.

Rook’s posture returning to normal. The huntsman would not leave the Queen’s side. Not yet.

With that, he shifted his attention to the remaining members of the VDC group. 

What do I say in this context ?

I seem to be the villain in my own narrative .

His cross expression must have been far more than he had intended at that moment for Yuu prickled when they looked at him, looking far more compliant now that they had seen him. It was the last thing Vil wanted at the moment but he could not think of a way to ease their worries given the fact that he had just beaten down one of his first-year students to prove a point .

“Can we all take a little recess? Jamil asked, breaking the deafening silence of the ballroom.

I have to say something .

But what would convince them I haven’t failed ?

This was one of those moments, the kind where Vil could care less than another was speaking for him to say something he wouldn’t have said himself. The Beautiful Queen was wholly unable to respond to the vice housewarden of Scarabia.

“Oui. Let’s all take a little breather, shall we?” Rook responded in his place.

While the ramblings and suggestions of the hunter are sometimes stranger than he might have desired, Vil would never say that he hated them. This would be a lie. He did not hate the oddities that came from Rook Hunt’s lips. No, sometimes they were pointed, necessary, and deserving of the utmost gratitude even from the Queen herself.

Yuu nodded at his words, eager to find an out from the tense room. Vil assumed they would go search for Deuce, with or without their other half and Spudling One. He couldn’t do anything about it now. They were friends, just normal teenagers living their school lives. Perhaps he was … envious of them.

And, as always Kalim was overjoyed at the suggestion (but he would have been all smiles no matter what happened, Vil took it that Kalim Al-Asim was the type to be a ray of warm sunshine even on the stormiest of days). Kalim cheered that they would all be able to rest and clear their minds while they waited for Deuce and Epel to return.

A clear mind would be lovely .

It was unlikely, however, that a few hours would be able to ease the stress of Pomefiore’s housewarden. He was far too concerned with the preparations for the VDC, the group’s costumes and rehearsals were all his to manage. He had his heart set on winning that competition.

Still, he knew that they needed to take this break. It would be impossible to practice the full dance and song without two of their members, one being a soloist. 

Vil sighed, both relieved at Rook and Jamil’s interjection and annoyed at the day’s rehearsal.

Now, we cannot practice.

If we do not practice we might not be ready .

If we are not ready by the day of the competition , we lose .

His expression did wonders, however, to hide these bothersome thoughts. As much as he looked disappointed, Vil was certain he did not look nearly as awful as he was beginning to feel, nausea creeping the edges of his mind as he imagined everyone chanting Neige’s name instead of his.

“Alright, fine. If we must .”

The group separated to take their break almost immediately. Yuu, Ace, and Grim disappeared first with Yuu calling out “Schoenheit-senpai, we will be back soon, I promise!” Kalim said something about “appreciating the beauty of Pomefiore in a new and wondrous way” and “exploring the grounds as an adventure for two best friends!” Meanwhile, Jamil did not say much of anything as he left, but Vil supposed that he would follow his housewarden, same as always. Kalim seemed like he needed the grumblyness of his vice housewarden to not be kidnapped or murdered by his good-natured soul.

“T'es sûr qu'ils ont besoin de rien?“ Rook asked Vil after a moment of quiet between them.

“I cannot help any of them with their tasks, they need to use this time for themselves.”

Vil said this as not just an answer to Rook but as a fact .

With that, he excused himself from the ballroom, stepping into the hallway.

He took out his phone.

I am going to regret this.

But if I don’t ask, I’ll regret it more.

For Vil, there was something inside of him that compelled him to ask this question over and over. A part of him wanted to know if it was true, in the hearts of the masses, of those in his closest circles. Who did they love? Did they love him ? He needed to know, to be sure of it.

“Mira, Mira, tell me something,” he spoke softly to the device in his hand.

The glass of the screen glowed brighter as the virtual assistant responded to him.

“What would you like me to look up?” came the robotic answer from the phone.

“At this moment…” he said, voice remaining hushed, a slight tremble slipping into it, “Who is the fairest one of all?”

The world around him was silent as he waited for the answer. He could not hear the bustle of those outside, the sound of Rook in the other room, the faint buzzing of the lights. It was quiet, it was enclosed. He was alone with his answer, provided to him the moment he asked for it.

“Displaying results for the account with the most comments using the word ‘beautiful’…” the feminine voice said as it calculated the answer that Vil desired most of all.

Vil waited for the matter of seconds it took Mira to give him the information, knowing that no matter how much he hoped , it was unlikely that anything of worth had changed .

Don’t dream too far , he reminded himself.

Wishing will only strike wounds in your heart.

“Neige LeBlanche,” came the answer from the search engine.

The feeling was warm before it was scorching hot flames in his chest, burning up into his throat.

Every time he searched with his query, every time he saw the results… It took something from him. Still, he couldn’t stop. He needed to know, to ask the question, to dream that the more he asked it one day he would be told what he wanted to hear.

He didn’t care that it hurt, beauty is pain. Even if it broke him, even if it tore him up from the inside out, he would allow himself these moments of anguish to endure for the sake of his pitiful, pointless aspirations.

Today, however, was not that day. This was not the day that those dreams would be realized.

At this moment, Neige was the fairest one of all. And the blond wanted to throw his phone and send it crashing through the pristine glass of the Pomefiore dorm’s windows. He wanted to break his phone into a million pieces and set them aflame.

Vil wanted to fly to the other end of Sage Island and kick Neige Le- fucking -Blanche in the throat , watch as that go-lucky, oblivious, cutesy waste of space choked and asked “Why are you doing this Vi-kun?” That boy just didn’t understand.

Hard work is always rewarded ? That’s a lie .

What utter drivel . Only children believe in fairytales .

You can work yourself to death and amount to… nothing .

At that moment, that was how Vil Schoenheit saw the world. But, more important than that, he had to calm down. He tried to steady his mind even for a moment, reminding himself that couldn’t risk what it might do to his complexion. What would he do if he was covered in blemishes on the day of the performance? That would ruin his image, surely.

“Vil,” Rook said though it seemed he had been saying his name for some time before this.

In truth, the hunter had been, for a few minutes or so. But who was even counting?

Rook did not mention this.

The shock of hearing his given name after being so deep in thought caused Vil to gasp softly, turning to look at Rook as though the hunter had spawned suddenly from thin air.

“...Ah?” 

That was the only vocalization that Vil could muster initially, still quite caught off guard even if it wasn’t something that typically happened to the famed actor. Though, arguably, Rook tended to have that sort of an effect on most people he met, at Night Raven and elsewhere.

“Vil. Whatever is the matter?” Rook asked him with furrowed brows, “This isn’t like you at all.”

Vil withheld the urge to tell Rook that such expressions would give him wrinkles, choosing instead to focus his energy on quieting the thoughts that he hoped to keep inside. Some things did not need to be said at this moment, or ever,

This is exactly like me.

Even beauty has her limits , Rook…

Vil was not typically one to lose himself in his thoughts, to break his composure, but he was capable of it. It was normal for other people, Vil presumed, but when he did it people saw a real person, a real emotion… and it worried them. Practiced, poised, and perfect , that was how they wanted him at all times. He always had to deliver the goods as well. Didn’t he?

Still getting through his train of thought, Rook kept talking.

“One would think that the Roi du Poison could take a little swipe from a cute little kitten.”

He was talking about Epel. Why wasn’t Vil surprised? Of course, Rook would say it like that.

“What? Don’t be silly,” Vil sighed, irritated, “Would you stop saying these kinds of things?”

It’s always a comfort until it’s not .

Must he always prod at someone’s imperfections ?

Rook was testing his patience. He didn’t hate the other but he didn’t need nor want to be on the receiving end of Rook’s choice words at this very moment. Right now, it made him feel how most people felt listening to nails on a chalkboard. Why did this man have to be so honest?

“Vil, don’t you think you need to show it to him?” Rook asked a moment after.

It felt as though Rook was telling him something obvious. Was he being the childish one here?

Vil could hear he was serious as well, the lack of flowery words was enough to tell him as much. Even more annoyingly, he couldn’t dispute the argument the hunter made. He was right.

“Speak your words into action,” Rook continued, “Show him the power of your beauty holds.”

“Hm. Very well, if I must,” Vil returned with his usual poise.

And, just like that, the beautiful Vil Schoenheit, a brilliant young actor, returned to the field.

He knew exactly what to do. His primary skills were, after all, toxicology, singing, and persuasion. While the first two held little relevance in terms of Epel’s defiance of Pomefiore’s way of life, the persuasive ability of an actor should never be judged. Vil was, as anyone would expect for him, a true force to be reckoned with. In fact, Vil thought it was silly to think that a certain Octavinelle student had even entertained the thought of trying to swindle him. He was a master of practical business simply from the trajectory his life had taken on.

Vil’s features were no longer “contorted in deep anguish” as Rook would have phrased it. The housewarden turned to his right hand and smiled that smile that had captivated so many.

“I do believe I have some ideas.”

It’s only if things worsen . It’s not as though it needs to be this way.

…No. It will happen when things worsen, as they always do.

“Oh?” Rook asked, “Does Ma Reine have the master plan to teach Monsieur Pommette a lesson en la beauté de forte présence sur scène?”

“Yes, yes, among other things.”

Things are fine . Everything will be fine .

Es wird alles gut . Es wird alles gut .

At times, Vil felt his thoughts take a swift turn from one language to his native tongue.

“Oh? Others? What else did you conjure with your brilliance ? Tu ne me l'as pas dit.”

“Si, je l'ai fait,” Vil assured as though speaking his native tongue, “You’ll just have to see where things lead, Rook. Will you be patient and wait for the payoff?”

Vil smiled when Rook nodded in agreement with his words. He could feel the heat of his anger subsiding as he focused on the task at hand: communicating with Epel. He did not have time to pay mind to the voice in his mind that screamed for him to listen to it. Vil knew how he was going to win over Epel, how he was to instill a lesson in that baby potato, and how he could help his group win the VDC.

“Bien sûr, Ma Reine. I eagerly await the gift to bask in your radiance once more.”

He always says such intense things…

And, even when he doesn’t say them… he writes them in 100 books…

The blatant acceptance of everything he offered was not a new development, but the constancy of it comforted the actor. Rook was always there for him. The Queen could not imagine a Pomefiore without the huntsman she held so dear. He could never express this to him, though. It was better left unsaid. Still, in the end, he had Rook to thank for the plan he had concocted.

“Obviously,” Vil told Rook, “And, while I have you, I have a request.”

“Je suis à ton service,” Rook answered instantly, sparkling at Vil per usual.

“Excellent. If you wouldn’t mind checking on those little spuds for me?”

“Oh? You believe I will be a proper fit for such a task?”

Rook’s head tilted to one side as he asked Vil his question. He never doubted his queen, but he saw the difference in their positions within the VDC team.

“You think you aren’t ready for this, Rook?” Vil questioned, flashing a worried expression between genuine and feigned.

“Non, not exactly. Would not our beautiful leader be a better fit? Regardless, Je ferai n'importe quoi pour toi.”

Rook gestured to Vil as he said this, a sweeping gesture as if to present the Queen.

“Perhaps, but I must see that Epel understands the ‘le pouvoir de la beauté,’ as you so kindly said earlier,” Vil explained with a smile that could melt hearts if only it were allowed to be on the face of a hero rather than a mysterious or otherwise described villain, “And I do appreciate your willingness.”

“I see, I see. And I am to be assisting you, Ma Reine?”

“Yes. You see, you’re going to be a… diversion .”

“Ah?” Rook echoed, “Your plan requires a diversion? How interesting! C'est Magnifique!”

Vil laughed softly at Rook’s expression. It was quite a feat to find beauty in all things.

“You are easily impressed sometimes, dear,” the actor told him, amused.

“The world is so full of beauty, how would you expect it to be any other way?”

It was hard for anyone to tell if Rook was saying this for himself or Vil’s sake.

“Oh, I don’t expect anything different, I was just commenting.”

As entertained as he was with their exchange, finding it to be a distraction, Vil paused to peek out the window before continuing his thought. Deuce, Yuu, and Grim were together in front of the dormitory. Vil was unaware of what they were talking about. However, he assumed it was about him, Epel, the VDC . It was only natural , after all.

I showed a display that was not to my audience’s liking…

“They seem to be nearing the end of their conversation.”

The housewarden gave the huntsman a pointed look.

“Oui, I understand.”

“Ah, Rook,” Vil said just as Rook turned toward the front doors of Pomefiore, “One more thing.”

“Hmm, comment?”

Rook faced his queen once more, wondering what else there was to add to his orders.

Vil sighed, posture impeccable and expression as genuine as Rook had ever seen it. In the moments when he was off camera, away from the “potatoes” he needed to raise… Vil’s face was softer, his smiles gentler as he laughed softly at something Rook said in jest.

“Je voulais te remercier pour tout vraiment ça me touche énormément,” Vil said softly before urging Rook forward toward the doors.

In a way, Vil knew that this was for the best, keeping things to himself, urging Rook to check on their underclassmen. It was Vil’s way of trying to get them through the personal hell that was the VDC. As hard as they worked, as “fun” as they might think it was, Vil hated it.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

What he does know can’t be taken back.

He tried to remind himself of that, walking in the opposite direction to take a back exit from the Pomefiore building. It was not often that he took the “long” way around the dormitory but as head of Pomefiore, it was only right that he knew his pocket dimension like the back of his hand.

There is only so much time .

Heading toward his dorm’s exit, he could see Rook with the first years and the Scarabia housewardens. He was always energetic, Vil supposed, remembering the somewhat disheveled but excitable Savanaclaw first year he met years prior in the Night Raven courtyard.

Some things never do change …

“ Oh là là, ce n’est pas la mer à boire! ” Rook began, seeming to hover over the first years.

He was likely saying something else that Vil could not fully hear. Rook did love to give advice.

Good luck, he’s a lot to take in .

From what he could make out of the mixture of languages coming out of his friend’s mouth, Rook was comparing Spudling 02, Deuce Spade, to a baby bird . In response to Rook’s Rook-ness , Deuce was only partially understanding though wholly accepting of an upperclassman’s advice. Meanwhile, the entire group that gathered in front of Pomefiore was trying to maintain their morale before the VDC.

Perhaps I took things too far…

But how else is Epel to learn ?

Still, I told Dinah I refused to play a villain .

A feeling in his chest made him feel as though he couldn’t breathe. If he was playing a villain even without a film, was it playing at all? A voice in the back of his mind whispered that he could not hide it for long. It told him that even if he were to take one of the daggers Rook had given him on their anniversary (of what, Vil did not ask) and slice off his own tongue, he would change nothing. Even if he were to rid the world of his voice, what did that say about him ?

It would not make my sins a lie .

It would only mean I still held onto them.

A part of his heart hardened at the idea that no matter what he might do, it would all be for naught, and the world would stay the same. If he could not change it. What would ?

A world without an idol will search for a new muse .

Hmm… Now that might work.

The old building that Yuu called their dormitory was in sight. It wasn’t too far from the Mirror Chamber but it couldn’t be called a short walk either. Closing in on the key element of his task, he didn’t have time to think too deeply about his realizations. Rook could handle the team while he handled that troublesome little potato.

Indeed. Vil Schoenheit had a mission , an idea given to him by his most trusted friend. One that Vil only hoped that it might work. He yearned to spark the understanding in his little apple’s heart of what it meant to be strong , in as real way as any, and to be… absolutely beautiful . Epel could be closer to his dreams if he could understand that much.

Vil walked through the doors of Ramshackle, avoiding the questions of the ghosts who greeted him, claiming (for the third or fourth time since practice started) to be the prefect’s “parents.” While Vil was not one to judge families that differed from his own, he was not in the mood to entertain a conversation with them when his time was limited as it was.

Politely declining to have an hour-long discussion about Yuu’s grades, Vil walked up the stairs to the room he had been given. Inside, sitting on a table, was a bottle of Harveston apple juice, from the crate that Epel had been gifted by his family.

In truth, Vil hadn’t meant to be so cold to Epel when it came to his family. Even Vil could admit to having faults. Yes, he was a narrow-minded person where Neige was concerned. He was quite competitive when his image was on the line. If and when there was a goal in sight, he would always focus on the prize. Train now, worry about everything else later.

I suppose I might have told them how it was…

Still, they likely have realized now.

I do despise losing , especially to that one .

When he thought about it, he did it with roles as well. Though not a method actor, Vil Schoenheit was the type to research roles, study a character’s motives, and copy their movements if it were possible. He wanted his performance to be impeccable, the script brought to life.

Still, I need to prove this to Epel .

Sighing, he reached out to the drink that Epel had so kindly offered him earlier. Epel was right, after all, there were no additives. It was a natural and farm-fresh beverage, to his standards in its organic quality. With that in mind, Vil noted he might have said a more overt “thank you” to him.

The juice was not too sweet, delicious, and flavorful. He had to hand it to Epel’s family.

They know their apples .

He sighed once more as more thought came tumbling into his previously clear mind. Just how many times would he do that today? Instead of thinking about apple juice, photography, and reach, his thoughts honed in on his dear little underclassmen.

Maybe it is the issue that I don’t know Epel .

Vil hummed to himself as he thought it over. It was altogether quite possible that it was part of the issue. He did have a stubborn streak he loathed admitting to. Settling on the idea that he would simply seek to prove his point and show , as Rook had suggested, his power and his intent , Vil felt slightly more at peace than before.

This will show him.

Influence can be everything .

He picked up the juice in one hand and held it up as if he were about to take a sip of the sweet beverage. His face leaned close to the glass of the bottle but never touched it, such moisture would surely do unwanted things to his makeup. His head was tilted slightly, his eyes looked slightly off from the lens of the camera. He was half-smiling.

Click .

The actor took the photo to look it over, assessing it for any unwanted background noise. Vil had to be sure that nothing in the image could give out his exact location or any compromising information. He would then double-check that, once he was sure there were no data breaches, the image itself accentuated the best qualities of himself and his immediate environment.

“And… There, done,” he said to the emptiness of his room.

Adjusting the lighting of the image with the editor on Magicam’s app interface, he uploaded the photo to his account. With his followings, normal and rabid fans alike, he was certain that there would soon be all eyes on Harveston’s apple products.

If only Epel took a moment to consider his options .

He would be much better off.

Fully aware of the effect such a post would have, the only thing left was waiting .

He paused.

Oh, and also hightailing it back to Pomefiore.

In as brisk a walk as his uniform could accommodate, Vil Schoenheit walked back to his dorm. Surely Rook had smoothed things over in the time his plan had taken, then the group would be able to work together to defeat a not-so-common enemy … As soon as that boy came home.

My secret weapon .

My poison apple .

We won’t go down without a fight, we cannot lose this, Vil thought to himself as he stepped through Pomefiore’s mirror. One might call it the return of the rightful ruler. Vil didn’t call it that. People would see him as they would, he appreciated it without question.

Now, where is my huntsman ?

They had much to discuss before the group reassembled. And Vil was in for what could only be referred to as an… interesting update.