My Dad Is a Popular Villain in a Comic Book - Chapter 1

Outside a bustling subway station, a boy gripped his older brother’s hand tightly, terrified of getting separated. His brother was heading to a comic convention, and he had tagged along to see the sights.

His brother’s friend waved at them from the meeting spot. “Is this the little brother you mentioned? He’s so cute.”

The boy poked his head out from behind his brother and offered a shy, sweet smile. “Hello, big sister! I’m Xiao Bai. I’ll be good and stay with my brother the whole time! Are you a mermaid? You look so pretty!”

The young boy wore clean overalls and had hair as soft as a lamb’s wool. His face was exquisite and adorable, with bright, spirited eyes that seemed to overflow with pleasant charm even his eyelashes looked obedient. His brother, by contrast, was a languid, handsome youth. The two looked quite different, and the friend recalled that the younger one was adopted.

“You have such a sweet mouth. I’m cosplaying as the Siren Queen from Fatum.”

Fatum was a Western-fantasy style “revenge-trope” youth manga, which she and her group were cosplaying today. The classic plot featured a world of swords and magic where humans worshipped twelve main deities and were locked in a mutual war of annihilation with monsters. The setting was akin to the European Middle Ages.

To find the enemy who killed his father and his beloved friend who had gone missing years ago, the protagonist, a half-human, half-demon boy named Blake from the City of Sin, embarks on a journey alongside a diverse group of companions. Because the characters were all driven by revenge, the series was jokingly called “The Avengers.”

However, the group she was with today was cosplaying the “All-Villain” faction the protagonist’s enemies. In the story, this organization consisted of powerful monsters capable of taking human form, each serving as a local lord who gave the protagonist’s group a run for their money at every turn. The Siren Queen was one of them.

“How old are you, little brother?” She pulled out a chocolate intended for low blood sugar and crouched down to hand it to him. Wow, his hair looks so soft. I want to touch it.

The boy blinked, as if sensing her intent, and leaned his head forward reminiscent of a pet cat that knew exactly how to treat guests.

“Thank you, sister. You can call me Xiao Bai, too,” the boy said politely after taking the chocolate. He puffed out his chest, looking quite proud. “I’m eight years old this year, and I’m already in elementary school!”

Who could resist such a polite, adorable cub? The friend patted his head, but before she could linger, the older brother pulled the boy back.

“Heh, brother-complex!” The friend scoffed, though her expression softened as she looked at the boy again. “Xiao Bai, do you want to try cosplaying? There’s a character in Fatum who’s also nicknamed ‘Xiao Bai.’ He’s actually your brother’s favorite character.”

“I do!” Xiao Bai nodded vigorously, then tilted his head to look at his brother, blinking as he asked, “Can I cos the character my brother likes?”

With the internet so advanced, elementary schoolers like him were exposed to anime and games from a young age; he was precocious and knew a thing or two about the term “cosplay.”

“Of course.”

Having received permission, a curious Xiao Bai excitedly asked the “Siren Queen” sister, “What kind of character is he?”

“He’s a very cute character named Albin white hair and red eyes, an orphan. But the eight-year-old Albin gets picked up by a piece-of-trash human. Do you want to cos him before or after he’s picked up?”

“Piece-of-trash?”

“An absolutely detestable character in the manga. He’s the root of all evil cowardly, despicable, and disgusting! His hairstyle, color, and behavior are as revolting as a cockroach!” The friend grew agitated just mentioning the character. “He took advantage of a fire to pick up Albin, who was unconscious and suffering from amnesia, then raised him, manipulated him, and exploited him to death. He’s human garbage! Absolute human garbage!”

She pulled up two images of Albin on her phone. “This is what he looks like before and after he was adopted.”

In the first image, the white-haired boy wore patched-up old clothes, clutching a rock-hard piece of black bread while running from someone in a dark alley. But his eyes were bright, and his posture was lively.

In the second, the white-haired youth stood with pursed lips, looking lost. His frame was thin and fragile; even in fancy clothes, he looked swallowed by the oversized garments. His arms were wrapped in bandages, and where there were no bandages, thin, jagged scars peeked through like a glass figurine covered in cracks, ready to shatter at any moment.

“It’s a pity Albin died at sixteen. To his dying day, he never regained his memories, and he never…”

Seeing that she was about to continue, Xiao Bai quickly stopped her.

“Sister, I haven’t read Fatum yet, don’t spoil too much for me.” He casually chose the “before adoption” image. “This one, it looks simpler.”

Compared to black-and-white manga with lots of text, he preferred anime, so he had intended to wait for the Fatum anime adaptation. But seeing his brother cosplaying characters from the series today, he decided he would read the manga tonight.

The friend immediately stopped herself and brought the conversation back to track.

“Alright, leave the costume to me. When everyone is gathered, we’ll change at the exhibition. You’re already good-looking enough, and you’re a kid, so we don’t need much makeup keep it simple.”

As the other companions arrived, the group headed toward the exhibition, just catching the red light.

Xiao Bai took the opportunity to ask, “Sister, who is your favorite in Fatum?”

The friend didn’t spoil too much, only saying, “Of course, it’s ‘Zeman-Dad!’ He’s a peerless beauty, like a flower on a high cliff.”

He was the King of Monsters who led all those villains and even struck terror into the hearts of gods and demons the man who completed the act of slaying a god as a mere mortal! That line of his, “So even Gods can bleed,” was still her phone wallpaper. If Zeman hadn’t fallen into a coma after being cursed by the Sun God upon his death, Albin never would have fallen into the hands of that piece of human garbage.

Others in the group joined in. “Hehe, we’re all white-hair lovers here. I push Zeman, too! By the way, did you see the new info today?”

She pulled out her phone to show them. “Fatum is releasing a long-form remake. It’s not just a simple art style upgrade; they say the plot will change, too.”

“Will the ending change? The previous ending was no different from total annihilation; whoever lived was miserable. You really can’t trust mangakas who go by the pen name ‘Warrior of Love.’ Let’s look up the mangaka’s mental health status.”

The long red light ended, and the group moved together across the crosswalk. Xiao Bai was small and prone to being bumped in the crowd, so his brother held his hand and walked at the very end.

He looked up at his brother messy, laid-back black hair, a crow-feather collar framing a pale complexion, eyes half-lidded in the harsh sunlight, looking like a sleepy vampire who hadn’t quite shaken off his slumber.

But he didn’t seem to have fangs.

He wondered which character his brother was cosplaying. Just as he was about to ask, he saw a truck running the red light, hurtling straight toward his brother.

Oh no!

He tore his hand away and lunged, slamming his brother out of the way.

“BANG—”

So hot! Cough, cough, cough—

Waking up in the heat, he accidentally inhaled a mouthful of scorching, thick smoke. He curled up, pressing his nose and mouth against his arms as he coughed violently. His eyes stung with tears, and through the haze, he could only see flames, while the crackling of burning wood echoed incessantly in his ears.

What’s going on? I remember… I died.

Did I wake up during the cremation? That would be too terrible.

Fumbling to wipe away his tears, he realized he was in a burning forest. The thick smoke was smeared across the sky, making it hard to breathe. The scene before him wasn’t just a regular forest fire; it looked like the aftermath of an earthquake or a storm, or perhaps a forest bombed during wartime. The terrain was warped mounds and craters, overturned earth, uprooted plants. Huge trees lay collapsed, engulfed in roaring flames. However, because the ground vegetation had already been destroyed, the fire wasn’t spreading rapidly, and for the moment, it wouldn’t reach him.

Having assessed his surroundings, he didn’t know whether to be relieved. Great. At least I didn’t wake up in a crematorium.

But what on earth was happening?

He choked back his tears and, relying on the experience from his school’s fire drills, tried to stay calm and assess the situation.

Memories of his past life flooded in like a tide. In his previous life, he had died in a car accident at age eight. After death, he had transmigrated into this world of swords and magic, and lived to the age of eight once more. The cost of awakening those memories seemed to be the loss of his memories of this current life. Now, he only had basic cognitive awareness, so he had no idea why he was here.

In this life, his name was “Albin,” and he had white hair and red eyes.

As his memories settled, Albin’s face went blank.

It sounds so familiar. Isn’t this the character from “Fatum” that the Siren sister spoiled for me? He had transmigrated into a manga and become a character destined to die young.

He frantically looked around. Amnesia, fire, eight years old, orphan… Oh no. Is today the day from the spoilers?

The day he was about to be picked up by that piece-of-trash human cockroach, raised, exploited, and then killed at sixteen.

Thinking of the comparison pictures and the Siren sister’s description, he imagined a giant, human-sized cockroach crawling on him. He felt so disgusted his hair stood on end, and he was absolutely miserable.

Yuck! That’s too disgusting! Brother, come quickly.

He instinctively called out that name and froze. A lump formed in his throat, and tears streamed down his face. He gritted his teeth, puffed out his cheeks, and turned his grief into motivation.

Run! I have to run! He was afraid of pain; he didn’t want to end up scarred like in those pictures. If he just left this area and ran far away, maybe he wouldn’t meet that piece of human trash.

Driven by the fear of the fire and the fear of the future, Albin sprang into action. Using his tear-soaked sleeve to cover his nose and mouth, he kept away from the flames and searched for a way out.

He wandered for who knows how long until he saw a white figure on the ground. Huh? Another survivor? Albin immediately turned back.

He saw a man with long white hair collapsed on the ground, his elaborate clothes riddled with rips and stained with streaks of blood-red. Judging by the hair color, it couldn’t be the trash the Siren sister talked about.

He crept closer, expecting the man to be severely injured since his clothes were in tatters. But up close, he saw that the man didn’t have a single wound. He seemed to be in a strange kind of coma, and the “blood-red” streaks were just patterns on his clothes.

Maybe those tatters are what the adults call “fashion”?

Albin breathed a sigh of relief. He checked the man’s breath and pressed his ear against his chest. Thank goodness, he’s still alive!

Looking at the raging fire blowing in the wind, Albin couldn’t leave a living person behind. If I leave him and he dies, what then? He’s an adult. If I save him, can I ask him to take me somewhere safe?

But how was he supposed to move him? He could feel that this body’s physical strength was better than before, but he was nowhere near strong enough to carry an adult.

Staring at the scarlet cape underneath the white-haired man, Albin had a flash of inspiration. “Heave-ho, heave-ho…”

Wrapping the man like a corpse bag with the sturdy, smooth cape, he dragged it forward. After a tremendous effort, he finally managed to drag the man into a nearby cave.

The cave was deep and echoed. Albin was terrified, but trapped in a dark forest without knowing where he was or having any other options, he had no choice. He didn’t know how to start a fire or make a torch, so he dared only stay at the mouth of the cave, where he could see the firelight and the moonlight.

The unconscious adult brought him some sense of safety. At least he wasn’t completely alone in this dark, cold, empty, and strange place.

He sat hugging his knees beside the man. After all that, he was tired and felt aggrieved. Sobbing for his brother, sleep quickly overtook him. But he felt like something was watching him from outside. Terrified that something monstrous might come in the night, he didn’t dare fall asleep.

His messy white head bobbed like a pestle in a mortar, hazy and drifting.

The “corpse bag” beside him stirred suddenly. Albin jolted awake in fright, scrambling back three steps, and frantically grabbed a stick he’d found on the way, pointing it at the man’s throat.

“D-don’t move!” He was scared to death. He wanted to rely on an adult, but he was afraid this was a bad guy, too.

The man who had awoken lay in the shadows where the moonlight could not reach. His dark, scarlet eyes stared at the teary-eyed white-haired boy before him. The boy looked obedient, yet was brandishing his weapon in a pathetic display of bravado, looking for all the world like a frightened animal with its back arched and fur standing on end.

The man’s gaze shifted downward. The “weapon” was nothing more than a twig as thick as two fingers, its broken end pressing against his throat. The act of intimidation only made him feel a slight itch.

This was a boy who looked harmless from head to toe. But this was Thorn City, the City of Sin.

He glanced at the sky outside, his eyes cold like permafrost under which dark currents surged. Why would an ordinary child appear at the site of his battle with the Sun God? The nearby villages had clearly been slaughtered by the Sun God, leaving not a single survivor. That arrogant god would never let anyone who knew his secrets live.

His scrutinizing gaze fell on the boy’s face, which was smudged with soot and tear tracks. The hem of his clothes was singed. His eyes rested on the fresh burn on the boy’s ankle. The Sun God held the authority of flame. Thus, when someone was burned by fire, people saw it as divine punishment; even extinguishing the flames was a crime requiring confession and trial. Neither priests nor doctors would treat such people, and if they walked down the street, people would avoid them from afar, fearing the anger of the gods. The burns would follow them like a brand for the rest of their lives, until they were cast into the fire to be purified after death.

The man looked at the “corpse bag” with the two “long ears” dragged out of it, noticing the boy’s red, blistered palms. Although he didn’t understand how the boy had survived, he already understood why he had appeared in this cave.

This total stranger had pulled him from the fire of divine punishment. Such an act was considered absurdly stupid by the masses and the priests alike.

He half-closed his eyes and sat up, unafraid of the weapon at his throat.

“What are you doing? I told you not to move!” Albin was so nervous he almost jumped. He tentatively asked, “Are you a bad guy?”

The man coldly replied, “Yes.”