Pampered By The Sadistic Academy Villain

The heat hit him first. A suffocating wave of sulfur and copper that coated the back of his throat.

Julian gasped. His lungs burned as if he had inhaled liquid fire. He braced himself for the crushing weight of concrete, expecting the aftermath of the gas explosion that had just ripped through his apartment.

But there was no concrete.

His vision blurred, then snapped into sharp focus. Damp, dark stone walls surrounded him. Rusted iron instruments hung from iron hooks. The air was thick and wet.

A heavy, wet friction dragged against his right palm.

Julian looked down. His fingers were wrapped around a thick leather whip. Dark gold blood dripped from the metal barbs woven into the hide. The blood hit the stone floor with a wet smack.

A ragged, wet breath echoed in the small space.

Julian jerked his head up. His stomach dropped into his shoes.

Three meters away, a boy hung from a massive obsidian cross. Thick silver chains bit into his wrists and ankles. His silver hair was matted with dark sweat. Deep, raw gashes crisscrossed his pale chest, exposing the white gleam of bone beneath torn muscle. Dark gold blood trailed down his ribs.

The boy forced his head up.

His eyes were a piercing, unnatural gold. They were dead. Hollow. Filled with a violent, suffocating hatred that made Julian's chest tighten.

Julian stopped breathing. He knew those eyes. He had spent three years describing those exact eyes on his laptop.

Kamari Monroe. The tragic, overpowered protagonist of his own web novel. The last heir of the Seraf-Kin.

Julian looked down at his own body. He wore a heavy, violet robe embroidered with dark silver runes. The fabric was stiff with dried blood.

His blood ran cold. The realization hit him with the force of a physical blow. He wasn't just in his book. He was Benedict Guerrero. The sadistic, twisted academy headmaster. The villain.

A reel of images flashed behind Julian's eyes. Benedict's ending. Kamari, fully awakened, skinning Benedict alive. Kamari ripping Benedict's soul from his chest and shoving it into a furnace for forty-nine days.

A phantom pain ripped through Julian's sternum. His knees buckled. He swayed, barely catching his balance.

A shadow moved to his left.

A young man in a pristine gold-embroidered uniform stepped into the flickering torchlight. He held a heavy iron basin. A glowing green liquid sloshed inside it, hissing as droplets hit the rim.

Gideon Fletcher. The student council president. Benedict's most loyal attack dog.

"Headmaster," Gideon said, his voice dripping with a sickeningly sweet eagerness. "Your arm must be tired. Why don't you let me wake him up with this bone-rot acid? Then you can resume."

At the words 'bone-rot acid', the muscles in Kamari's ruined chest spasmed. But his golden eyes didn't blink. They stayed locked on Julian, daring him to do it.

Julian's throat closed.

Gideon took his silence as permission. He smiled, a cruel twisting of his lips, and took a step toward