The Villains Must Win-Chapter 87: Valerian Cross 7

"So, does this mean you’re agreeing to my proposal?"

Valerian regarded her with an unreadable expression. "I don’t get you," he admitted, entirely genuine. "You’ve lived for over a century, and you’re supposed to be a witch—feared, powerful. And yet, you want to live alongside humans?"

Evelyn leaned back against the cold stone wall, her lips curling into a smirk. "What’s wrong with that? Being a witch is cool and all, but humans are interesting. They’re weak, but they develop things that make them strong. They adapt quickly. It’s fascinating."

Valerian raised a skeptical brow. "That’s all?"

"Alright, you got me." She gave an exaggerated sigh. "If humans were gone, who would I prank? Who would I hex just for fun? A world without unsuspecting victims is just so . . . boring."

Valerian sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "For someone with such a serious face, your answers are anything but."

"I was born with this face," Evelyn replied, deadpan. Then she shrugged. "And life is already serious enough without me having to take it seriously too."

Valerian just stared at her, unimpressed.

Evelyn grinned, undeterred. "So what’s it going to be, Cross? Are you going to accept my offer or not? You won’t find another witch like me. Most of my kind would rather set themselves on fire than help you humans. You lucked out. I’m the last ’friendly’ witch you’ll ever meet."

Valerian considered her words. She wasn’t wrong. Most witches saw humans as inferior, toys at best and vermin at worst. They wouldn’t just refuse to help; they’d actively try to sabotage them. And if his organization wanted to get ahead of the vampires and werewolves, and every creatures of the dark he needed every advantage he could get.

Of course, the church would be furious.

But if forging a pact with a witch meant keeping his people alive, then so be it.

As the silence stretched, Evelyn felt a flicker of doubt. Sure, in the original story, Evelyn Night eventually became a witch working under the Cross organization. But things had changed now that he had entered the picture. There was still a small chance—however slim—that Valerian might just decide to kill her instead.

He was a villain, after all.

And when he suddenly raised his dagger into the air, her breath hitched.

Evelyn’s eyes widened. Then, she quickly squeezed them shut, bracing herself for the sharp sting of silver piercing her heart.

Instead—

"Ow!"

Her eyes snapped open to find Valerian dragging the blade across her palm. Blood welled from the shallow cut.

Evelyn wanted to yanked her hand back, but couldn’t because of the shackles. Scowling, she complained, "Can’t you use something else? Silver burns, you know! And they take time to heal."

"Shut up," Valerian said flatly, gripping her wrist and forcing her bleeding palm back over the ancient parchment that had materialized between them. "Be glad I’m agreeing to this nonsense at all."

A quill, feathered in ominous black and lined with golden script, hovered beside them. The parchment beneath them glowed faintly, old words shifting and twisting in ancient magic as Valerian began to recite the contract.

"You will assist humans in every way possible," he intoned, his voice deep, "and you will not harm them—"

"Kill," Evelyn interjected.

Valerian’s eye twitched as he turned a withering glare on her.

"What?" She shrugged innocently. "A girl needs her entertainment."

He inhaled sharply, visibly restraining himself. Then, exhaling, he amended, "You will not kill humans."

"Good."

"Your turn," Valerian said curtly, ignoring her.

Evelyn licked her lips, drawing out the moment. "Alright, then in return for my oh-so-gracious help, you will grant me protection to live among humans. I can do whatever I want, as long as I don’t kill your kind."

Valerian stared at her, unimpressed.

"That’s it?"

"Yup."

"You have the chance to make demands, and that’s all you ask for?"

Evelyn tapped a finger to her chin in mock consideration. "Well, now that you mention it . . . I want a cottage. A nice one. Preferably near a bakery, because I love the smell of fresh bread. And I want unlimited access to your library, because there are some spells I’ve been dying to get my hands on. Oh! And I want immunity from all church-related inquisitions. If some overzealous priest tries to burn me at the stake, I expect you to handle it."

Valerian’s jaw tightened.

"Oh! And I want a cat. A black one, obviously. His name will be Mr. Whiskers."

"No."

"Wait, I’m not done!" She snapped her fingers. "I want a monthly stipend for ’witch expenses.’ You know, potion ingredients, cauldrons, hex supplies—"

"You do realize you’re lucky I haven’t run you through with this dagger yet?"

She pouted. "And here I thought we were bonding."

Valerian exhaled through his nose, clearly at his limit. "Fine. You’ll have your protection. The library, I’ll consider. The church will not touch you so long as you uphold your end. And the cat—" He paused, frowning. "No. Stephanie is allergic to cats."

And yet, she’s in love with a werewolf. Evelyn snickered.

She then beamed. "Pleasure doing business with you, Cross."

The magic surged between them as the contract sealed itself in glowing gold letters. A gust of wind blew through the chamber, extinguishing the candles for a moment before relighting them. The parchment vanished into thin air.

The deal was sealed.

A blood contract was absolute—whoever failed to uphold their end would perish. It was the most binding tool for forging agreements, a pact written in one’s very lifeblood. Though the Church condemned its use and deemed all blood magic forbidden, even they couldn’t deny its undeniable power.

Valerian let go of her wrist, already regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment. Evelyn, on the other hand, looked positively delighted.

"By the way," she added, flexing her fingers and inspecting the faint scar left by the silver cut, "this means I can officially prank you now, right? You technically count as human."

Valerian closed his eyes and sighed.

This was going to be a nightmare.