I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist

"I've lost my sense of taste."

"Huh?"

Ophelia and the other three froze mid-bite, turning their gazes toward Adam in shock.

"I mean, my taste buds are gone," he clarified, thinking maybe they hadn't understood. But their surprise had nothing to do with his wording.

"N–No, it's just…" Ophelia's voice trailed off, her mouth closing as if unsure how to respond.

She, like the others, found herself at a loss for words.

While Adam could still smell the food in front of him, the flavors and textures, the full experience of taste, were lost to him. It had been that way since childhood—a remnant of Ivan's early traumas. The sense of taste had slipped away completely, and no matter what molecular 'switches' he does with other Antagonists who didn't lose their taste buds.

Eating, for him, had become purely mechanical, a matter of survival rather than pleasure, though even survival wasn't a real necessity for Ivan especially. He held faint memories of enjoying food once, but those recollections seemed distant, as if behind a wall—one that now stood alongside other traumas shared between them all.

For Adam, though, the loss didn't sting. He'd long ago accepted it, losing taste in the course of experiments on himself, often with Victor Frankenstein's help. He hadn't regretted it. Or perhaps... only a little.

A flash of memory surfaced, of sharing meals with a girl he had once cared for deeply—a girl who'd eventually left him.

"Sorry about that…" Julius muttered awkwardly.

"No need to be. I'm not," Adam replied, genuinely not understanding Julius's apology.

Ophelia's eyes lingered on Adam, filled with sympathy. She was sure something painful had happened in his past, something that had hardened him this way.

From across the fire, Luna-Evelyn's red eyes studied Adam's face, watching him as he stared into the flames. There was something familiar about his look, a reflection of her own pain, yet she sensed his went even deeper. For a fleeting moment, a glimmer of loneliness passed over his features, as if he were lost in a memory of something—someone—long gone.

…

"I'll do the dishes."

"No, really, I can—"

"I said I'll do it!" Ophelia snapped, snatching the plate from Adam's hands before he could protest further and pile up even more guilt inside her.

A strange guilt had settled over her ever since learning he'd lost his sense of taste, and somehow that feeling had bloomed into a fierce, almost maternal protectiveness. She thought of Adam as a younger brother in need of looking after, and she was determined to do just that.

Adam, though puzzled by her insistence, stepped back without protest.

They still had two hours to rest.

"I'll take first watch. You all should try to sleep," Luna-Evelyn said quietly.

"What about you, Leader?" Ophelia asked.

"I'm not tired yet," Luna-Evelyn replied simply.

Though they usually kept watch in pairs, tonight, she was more than capable of managing alone. Taking her at her word, the group set up a modest, comfortable tent to catch a few hours of sleep.

"Here, Adam, I made a tent for you." Ophelia's face softened as she smiled at him, almost like an older sister.

"Thanks, but there's no need."

"W–Why?" Ophelia's voice caught, her expression almost heartbroken.

Adam met her gaze calmly. "I'm an insomniac."

"That too?!"

Ophelia gasped, on the verge of crying. She was beginning to feel that Adam was somehow cursed by the gods themselves—a string of misfortunes unfairly inflicted on the kindest, most innocent person she'd ever met.

"How about you sleep near me? I'll make sure you get some rest—"

"Oi. Miss Ophelia," Julius cut in, stepping in just in time before Ophelia's empathy spilled into outright absurdity. He raised an eyebrow at her, his look plainly asking if she was serious.

"R–Right…" Ophelia muttered, clenching her fists as she retreated into her own tent.

Adam felt a flicker of gratitude toward Julius. Sleep, for him, was a rare event, and even if it weren't, he doubted he could truly relax around anyone he wasn't intimately familiar with, no matter how well-meaning they were.

If Ludmila, Kamila, or a few others he trusted had been there, it might have been different. But here and now, that level of comfort wasn't something he could pretend to have.

Adam settled onto the bench beneath a tree, directly across from Luna-Evelyn.

For most, the silence between them might have felt awkward, yet to two people unaccustomed to conversation, it was perfectly comfortable.

"You should cover up," Luna-Evelyn said, tossing him a blanket. The night air was brisk, and Adam had only a thin shirt on.

Adam considered mentioning he was immune to cold but held his tongue, remembering Ophelia's earlier reaction. He knew that if he kept dropping remarks like that, they'd soon see him as something monstrous rather than just unfortunate man—a truth that wasn't entirely inaccurate.

"Thanks," he said instead, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders.

Luna-Evelyn drew her slender sword from its silver scabbard, revealing the blade beneath. It gleamed, elegantly crafted and clearly well-maintained. Even the hilt was designed with a refined beauty.

Adam's eyes locked onto the blade, almost transfixed.

After a moment, he worked up the nerve to ask, "May I see it up close?"

Luna-Evelyn noted the flicker of genuine curiosity breaking through his usual detached expression and allowed herself the faintest smile. Rising, she passed the sword to him.

"Thanks," Adam murmured, taking the blade in careful hands, admiring its craftsmanship with something close to reverence. His fingers trembled slightly, tracing along the metal's polished surface.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"Is this a Phantasma?" He asked, almost to himself.

He barely knew the basics about Phantasma, but he could feel an unique form of energy radiating from the sword—something extraordinary.

Luna-Evelyn gave a slight nod, curious why he, as a Horizon Scientist, would even need to ask.

As Adam's fingers glided over the blade, he felt the powerful presence within it, as though the spirit housed in the sword was radiating strength. Phantasma were ranked by their inner force, and whatever spirit had chosen Luna-Evelyn was undoubtedly strong—fitting for someone like her, whose strength bordered on the monstrous.

"It's a beautiful sword, and I can feel something truly good coming from it," Adam murmured, studying the blade with a thoughtful gaze. He shifted it gently in his hands, eyes tracing the elegant lines. "The spirit you've bonded with must be a remarkably kind one."

Luna-Evelyn blinked, slightly taken aback by the faint but genuine smile on Adam's face. Seeing him like this was unexpected, even a bit disarming. Unlike Ivan, who wore an almost impenetrable stoicism, Adam was capable of warmth and openness. But his genuine smiles were a rarity, treasured glimpses into a side of him seldom revealed.

Right now, his smile was unguarded, brought forth by the tranquil, pure energy radiating from Luna-Evelyn and her spirit. In a world filled by corruption, people like her were rare—like pools of clear water cleansing the mire that tainted so much. Adam's expression softened as he absorbed her aura, understanding on an instinctual level that she and her spirit were forces for good.

To Adam, purifying the world of its filth was more than just a calling; it was a necessity. And he shared this ideal fervently with Ivan. The world could only be cleansed through destruction, if that's what it took.

"It is," Luna-Evelyn replied. She glanced at him strangely. It was the first time anyone had complimented her spirit as anything other than a mere weapon. Most people saw spirits as tools, as entities with little purpose beyond combat. But Adam's perspective was different, refreshingly so.

Also it was also the first time a man was complimenting her spirit instead of her.

Adam nodded in agreement, his smile lingering as he returned the sword to her with a respectful gesture. She accepted it, settling it across her lap.

After a pause, Luna-Evelyn spoke. "Which country are you from?" It was a question she wouldn't normally ask, but there was something about Adam that puzzled her.

Adam's appearance was quite unique. His hair, an unusual shade of white, hung in slightly messy strands around his face, contrasting with his eyes—a light brown with a touch of hazel. Luna-Evelyn noted the uniqueness of it, though she herself wasn't exactly conventional, with her silver hair and red eyes. But her appearance had its reasons.

Adam hesitated, a flicker of thought passing through his eyes as he considered his response. He couldn't exactly say he was from another world, so he settled on something simpler yet truthful.

"I'm not sure," he replied. "I'm an orphan, found and raised by a man who took me in."

At the word 'orphan', Luna-Evelyn felt a ripple of empathy. She, too, had grown up without parents, so she felt some kind of empathy toward Adam.

After that another comfortable silence fell between them and this one until the end of the pause.

The time to meet Krainel Salvador had come and Adam knew it won't be a cheerful encounter…