Happy Evil Heartbreaker [Modern LitRPG]

Xanthia’s simple sentence instantly triggered a surge of pain points from two individuals.

Elena, for one, was baffled. She had explained things so thoroughly—how could Xanthia, who can regarded her as friend, not believe her?

How irrational!

A woman shouldn't trust a man she didn't  fully know!

Believing in a man’s undying devotion was the most foolish thing a girl could do.

Especially someone like Dematero, whose behaviour had already strayed far from that of a normal person.

Where does Xanthia gets her confidence from?

Even though Elena had lost her composure, her mind clouded with emotion, she still felt certain that Dematero’s erratic, almost maniacal behaviour—like a rabid dog—was all to spite her.

It was only because he’d once been so deeply in love that, after her rejection, he had become this twisted version of himself, and now used Xanthia as a pawn to get at her!

She even suspected that Dematero spied on her constantly, and that, upon seeing her grow closer to Xanthia, his heart became warped with jealousy, prompting today’s absurd display.

From Elena’s perspective, her theory made perfect sense. After all, it was after she rejected Dematero that he had undergone such a drastic transformation.

The Dematero of old was warm, patient, and kind-hearted—a chatterbox with a charming disposition. He always treated girls with respect and was the gentleman, quick to lend a helping hand.

But now? He’d turned into an arrogant, disdainful weirdo who no longer seemed to care about anyone.

His self-righteousness had reached a point where he could, under the watchful eyes of their classmates, brazenly spout such cringeworthy nonsense without a care in the world.

Although Elena felt rattled, she tried to comfort herself, determined not to let this deranged oddball affect her mood.

'Complete nonsense, I shouldn't bother with this. This interaction never benefits me and all. To think I lose control to my emotions.'

Elena La Loannou was, after, a highschooler.

'Anyway...'

She was curious to see what kind of extravagant gifts Dematero would present next. She’d pity Xanthia for being the target of such a lunatic.

Once Elena had convinced herself that Dematero was merely using Xanthia to provoke her, she managed to regain her composure.

The second person whose pain coins gauge shot up was none other than Dematero himself.

When he first heard the words “I believe in you,” his initial reaction was one of relief and joy. He couldn’t believe that after everything he’d done today—acting so “insane”—she still believed in him as she always had, her kindness and sincerity unwavering.

But with that relief came the resurfacing of painful memories, gnawing at him once more...

Sometimes, he wished Xanthia wasn’t so kind, that she could be more like Elena—selfish, resolute, calculating, and pragmatic. If only she weren’t so naive and good-hearted, always believing in the world’s beauty and truth.

But then, she wouldn’t be Xanthia, would she?

She was as stubborn as ever, resolute in her convictions, and once she trusted someone, that trust was unshakable. She would believe in someone wholeheartedly, leaving herself no room for retreat.

Such a girl was bound to get hurt. She’d never complain, though; instead, she’d silently bear all the pain.

The more she smiled on the outside, the more broken she was inside. That’s why her spirit was so fragile, so susceptible to emotional strain…

Dematero’s heart ached as he thought of her. He couldn’t help but imagine Xanthia, suffering behind her cheerful facade, battling severe depression. How could someone so broken ever truly be happy?

He wished, more than anything, that Xanthia would learn from Elena, be less like the girl in his memories. It was the only way she could live a longer, happier life.

Gazing at the vibrant, smiling Xanthia before him, Dematero felt as though he could see her future self through the mists of time.

The weight of his painful memories coiled around him like a venomous serpent, the pain coursing through his body once more. He took a deep breath, forcing a smile. “Thank you for your trust. I’ll make good on my promise.”

Throughout the entire exchange, Dematero’s eyes never left Xanthia. He didn’t even register the scummy gold digger in his periphery.

Only he knew the burden he carried. Sometimes, he wondered if it was all too much, if he should confide in someone. But who would believe the extraordinary tale of his life?

Perhaps the only person he could open up to, even just a little, was Dionysius. After all, the future had proven that the person was reliable, someone truly worthy of trust.

Dematero didn’t mind sharing some of his suffering with Dionysius—after all, the boy was so determined to play the big brother to Xanthia, even though he was technically her younger brother.

After making his promise to Xanthia, Dematero left the classroom’s northeast corner and returned to his seat.

His deskmate, Ryan, the quiet and unassuming class monitor, couldn’t help but comment, “You know, what you just did was incredibly bold. And those things you said—so cringe! How did you even have the nerve to say them?”

Dematero chuckled nonchalantly, though his eyes held a deep intensity. “I just wanted to say those things, so I said them. Who cares about the awkwardness? Those who choose to believe will always believe. As for those who laugh at me, let them laugh. I’ll keep proving myself—this is only the beginning.”

Ryan nodded thoughtfully. “I used to think you were a bit sluggish, but after sitting with you for a while, I can see you’ve still got that youthful spirit. And this 'no-care' vibe you’re rocking is kind of interesting. Keep at it.”

Dematero had proven something crucial: if he wasn’t embarrassed, it was everyone else who felt awkward!

There wasn’t another boy in the world who could, in front of the entire class, deliver such an audacious “puppy love declaration.”

Of course, few believed he would actually follow through with it. It seemed more like a desperate attempt to get Xanthia’s attention after letting his ego inflate.

What really stuck in everyone’s mind was the way Dematero had pointed at Elena, berating her without a shred of mercy. That had been truly bold, leaving no room for retreat.

This, naturally, earned him the scorn of most of the girls in class, along with some of the admirers who idolized Elena La Loannou—how could he treat their angel this way? It was outrageous!

Even if she hadn’t accepted his confession, did he really have to act with such contempt? A real man would have graciously wished her happiness and perhaps even sent her a gift.

The male admirers might have been angry, but none of them dared confront Dematero. He wasn’t soft anymore; plus, with his mysterious “mysticism", it was best not to provoke him.

Dematero, now the class sports captain, seemed to possess a newfound strength with his title and authority.

But it was the wild, reckless energy he now exuded that truly made his classmates fear him. He no longer cared about what others thought—be it the opinions of his peers or the criticisms of the girls. As long as Xanthia believed in him, he had an unwavering pillar of support!

Xanthia, sitting quietly behind the metaphorical chessboard, knew that when in doubt, she could always unleash Dematero. Like a rabid dog set free, he would charge into battle, biting everyone in sight, causing chaos. Each person enraged by his antics would be like a summoned creature helping her earn pain coins.

And without a doubt, the one Dematero had hurt the most today was Elena La Loannou.

This was only the beginning. With Dematero’s grand promises yet to be fulfilled, the more success he achieved, the more expensive the gifts he showered upon Xanthia, the more agony Elena would feel.

This was a classic scene from a rebirth novel: the spurned lover becomes wildly successful and then lavishes attention on the best friend of the girl who rejected him. How much emotional trauma must the original girl endure?

Elena was still just a high schooler. Although her mental resilience was strong, she was still too inexperienced. Given time, she wouldn’t have lost her composure as she had today, even if just for a moment.

And after Dematero’s declaration and departure, Elena no longer hid her animosity toward him.

Elena was convinced that Dematero’s actions were an attempt to sabotage her relationship with Xanthia. Creepy guys like him always seemed to enjoy seeing two pretty girls fight over them, or even ruin their friendship.

So, she resolved to do the opposite. She wouldn’t let him win; instead, she’d grow even closer to Xanthia.

Xanthia, on the other hand, was completely unaffected by Dematero. In fact, as Dematero and Elena hurt each other over and over again, it was she who reaped all the benefits.

"Sister Elena, don’t let your hostility blind you to the subtle brilliance of docility. You must understand, it’s often the most eccentric authors who produce the most astonishing works. I honestly believe that as long as Dematero remains true to his eccentric nature, he’ll continue to succeed,” Xanthia remarked calmly.

Hearing Xanthia still call her “Sister,” Elena felt a wave of relief. She had been worried that her rather strained relationship with Dematero might influence Xanthia, especially since Xanthia seemed to trust him so deeply.

"Hold on," Elena said with a knowing smile. "You said you trust him, but you aren’t just leading him on, are you? Indeed! Little Xanthia, you’re far too savvy to be taken in by a guy, especially not someone as uninspiring as Dematero.”

Suddenly, it all made sense to Elena, and her mood lifted. So, Xanthia had just been playing along all this time. Of course, that’s exactly what a angel like herself would do—maintain a flawless image. Could it be that Xanthia had learned her tricks.

“Not at all,” Xanthia replied earnestly. “I truly believe in his talent. When we sat together in class, he was always kind to me. If someone shows genuine care, I don’t believe in casting them aside like they’re nothing. Even if the entire class doubts him, I still believe in him.”

Elena fell silent for a moment, her thoughts swirling. She was, after all, the very definition of someone who discarded others’ affections without a second thought. How many boys’ hearts had she trampled on because of her own troubles at home? Dematero had been one of her many victims.

Although, as a girl she has the right to reject someone who confess their love but maybe the way she handled it was wrong?

Elena contemplate,

But just as Dematero was on the brink of spiralling into darkness, Xanthia had, in her own unique way, extended a hand and pulled him back from the edge, fostering his transformation.

“Xanthia, there are so few girls as pure-hearted as you. I could never be like you, still believing in love and goodness. If you carry on like this, you’re only setting yourself up for heartache. As for me, I’ll stick to my own path. At least that way, I won’t get hurt, and I’ll reap all the benefits.”

Elena’s voice was resolute. She was firm in her belief that trampling on the notion of love would only bring her more rewards. As long as her life remained vibrant and successful, she would never have any regrets.

So, even if Dematero grew more successful in the future, she would only feel a fleeting moment of discomfort. The further along she went, the less she would care. As long as she succeeded, nothing else mattered.

“You can trust me, Sister Elena,” Xanthia said with a gentle smile.

“Of course, I trust you. It’s just… you don’t trust me, do you? But then, I suppose that’s my own doing. I’ve hardly made myself worthy of trust,” Elena said with a self-deprecating laugh.

She didn’t feel wounded by the admission. After all, she had chosen to embrace the role of the “villainess.” It was only natural that she would no longer be trusted.

“Actually, it’s quite liberating to speak so openly with you. To drop the mask and just say what I truly feel. You’re such an extraordinary girl, Xanthia. There’s something almost divine about you. No wonder they’ve nicknamed you ‘Angel of Fate,’” Elena added with a laugh.

The moniker "Angel of Fate" had become a running joke on the campus message boards, and Elena found it amusing every time she saw it.

She knew it was all just a bit of fun from the other students, but the more time she spent with Xanthia, the more she felt there was something genuinely divine about her. At times, Xanthia seemed like a deity looking down from above, taking joy in the whimsical nature of the world.

What made Xanthia even more remarkable was that she didn’t shy away from being part of the fun. She was down-to-earth, and as long as people treated her kindly and wanted to join in, she welcomed them with open arms. She always made sure that everyone had a good time.

Yet, those who tried to deceive her or bore her ill will? They all met with their own misfortune, without Xanthia needing to lift a finger.

Elena, despite her twisted worldview, was undeniably perceptive. She had a keen eye, though Dematero was a rare exception where her judgment had failed her. It wasn’t her fault though—how could she have known that she had unwittingly crossed paths with the "Angel of Fate"? And now, with Dematero blessed by her "divine favor," it was no wonder he had bested her.

Elena, ever astute, saw great potential in Xanthia. She had even considered stealing this “Little Xanthia” away from Luciel’s side, though the task proved to be nearly impossible. How could a villainess like herself compete with a righteous heroine like Luciel? It was a classic case of good triumphing over evil.

But Elena was convinced that investing in Xanthia would never be a mistake. She was someone who struggled to trust others, plagued by a lack of security. Yet with Xanthia, she was willing to give her heart freely.

She even considered teaching Xanthia some of her own methods.

In Elena’s eyes, Xanthia was far too naive, too trusting. Her defenses were practically non-existent, and with her innocent, delicate appearance, she was an easy target. If she ever crossed paths with someone truly manipulative, it could spell disaster.

If only she know the truth, that is.

Dematero, with his erratic behaviour, was already on Elena’s list of dangerous individuals. If it had been the old Dematero, she would have been confident in defending against him. But now? His unpredictability made him a threat. Men like him were always dangerous.

And then there was Dionysius, the golden boy from Class 1. Elena had been keeping a close eye on him too. He had shown an unusual interest in Xanthia, turning up yesterday just to watch her perform in the corridor.

What on earth was a privileged boy like him doing, hovering around a “Cinderella” like Xanthia? How could anyone believe his intentions were pure?

Elena had a tendency to assume the worst in people, and Dionysius was no exception. When she had first sat next to Xanthia, she had approached with the same guarded mindset.

But Xanthia was a bundle of sunshine—cheerful, innocent, and full of energy. Her first impression had been positive, and over time, Elena’s guard had naturally lowered.

In short, Dionysius had made it onto Elena’s danger list. Should he make any suspicious moves, Elena would be the first to warn Xanthia, urging her to stay vigilant.

Meanwhile, Dematero had reached out to Dionysius. With his newfound success from the royalties of his writing, he wanted to repay the kindness he had received in a “previous life.” Back then, Dionysius, either as an elder brother figure or a future brother-in-law, had treated him generously, often buying him meals and even smoothing over issues with his publisher to ensure his books got published.

In this life, it was Dematero’s turn to treat Dionysius to a grand meal. Perhaps they could share a drink and discuss life, and maybe even the future.