The headquarters of the League of Villains resembled a small bar—or rather, it was a bar. But unlike normal establishments, there were no flashing lights, no deafening music, and no vibrant crowds dancing on sticky floors.
There were only two people inside.
Kurogiri and Tomura Shigaraki.
Both waited quietly for their "guest," Lock.
"So this is the headquarters of your League of Villains."
Under their startled gazes, Lock casually closed the iron door behind him—cutting off his retreat—and walked straight to the bar counter. He pulled out a stool and sat down.
"I thought it'd be something more luxurious."
He snapped his fingers lightly, then looked toward Kurogiri, who was dressed as a bartender.
"Bartender. Make me a cocktail."
"Minors are not allowed to drink," Kurogiri answered, visibly taken aback. He had no idea what Lock was planning.
Lock burst into laughter—sharp, mocking, and deliberately provocative.
"Hahaha—you, the League of Villains, quoting the law to me? That's hilarious."
Tomura Shigaraki's face darkened instantly. He flicked a hand, signaling for Kurogiri to prepare the drink anyway.
Clap, clap, clap.
Slow applause echoed. Tomura Shigaraki looked at Lock with a stiff smile.
"As expected of someone who became a Pro Hero in his second year of middle school… That boldness is admirable."
"It's not boldness," Lock replied, smirking. "You're just some unripe kids. Why would I take you seriously?"
He didn't bother hiding the mockery; he wanted Shigaraki to see every ounce of it.
Before coming here, Lock had thought everything through.
He wasn't afraid for himself. He trusted his own power—and even if he met All For One himself, he was confident he could at least escape.
But villains never attacked head-on. They threatened family, friends, and civilians. The lock had been forced here because of that.
The only solution?
Make himself the ONLY target.
Pull every bit of hatred toward himself and away from the people he cared about.
A cunning villain wouldn't fall for provocation.
But Tomura Shigaraki, at this stage…
He was nothing but a tantrum-throwing overgrown child.
"You—bastard! How dare you say—!"
Shigaraki shot to his feet, scratching at his neck like a rabid animal and thrusting a hand toward Lock.
There it was.
Lock's trap caught him instantly.
The League of Villains was Shigaraki's only home, his only sense of belonging, the fragile foundation of his entire identity. Lock's ridicule tore right at that weakness.
"Calm yourself, Shigaraki."
Kurogiri finished mixing the drink and hurried over to restrain him.
Shigaraki stopped reaching—but began scratching his neck with both hands, drawing red lines across pale skin. The pain seemed to be the only thing giving him control.
Lock accepted the cocktail and lifted it politely.
"Thanks."
He tapped the glass lightly with a finger—mana flaring faintly. After confirming it contained no poison or tricks, he downed it without hesitation.
"Not bad. If only your methods of 'inviting' guests were as civilized as your cocktails."
"…Understood."
Kurogiri retrieved the empty glass, dread tightening beneath his smoky composure.
This adolescent boy's poise was not something his age should allow. It wasn't training. It was instinct—talent.
Compared to Lock, Tomura Shigaraki was still far too immature.
Kurogiri even remembered the private conversation he'd had with All For One—the one that had deeply unsettled him.
All For One wanted Lock…
as his disciple.
"So."
Lock rested an elbow on the counter.
"What do you want from me?"
Finally, the snake was revealing its head.
Shigaraki pointed to the TV mounted behind the bar.
"Take a look."
Lock's eyes narrowed.
Was this the same screen All For One used to relay his voice?
Would the demonic voice suddenly speak?
But no—that wasn't what appeared.
Instead, the screen showed footage of a young boy being bullied in elementary school.
Trash stuffed into his shoe locker.
Chalk graffiti covering his desk.
His schoolbag was thrown out of the window.
Students were waiting at the gate just to beat him up.
He fought back—but Quirk-using bullies beat him effortlessly.
Teachers and adults looked at him with disappointed eyes. The disappointment that comes from shattered expectations.
Only his Hero parents encouraged him.
Until the day…
His heroic parents died in an incident.
The footage cut.
"Well?"
Shigaraki grinned like a child showing off a favorite toy.
"We worked hard to gather all that, Sorcerer Lock."
Lock set his glass down.
His tone turned frigid.
His eyes hardened like sharpened ice.
The very air around him dropped several degrees.
"…What is your League trying to say?"
That child in the footage—the one who suffered abuse, despair, and loss—
That was the original owner of this body.
Even though Lock's soul was a transmigrator, the emotional shadow engraved in this body's memories surged like a tidal wave.
Seeing it externally, as a recording—
It ignited a silent, murderous fury inside him.
Shigaraki opened his arms theatrically.
"Join us. You hate this hypocritical, twisted society, don't you? Let's return the world to chaos. Give the powerless a choice. Grant 'forgiveness' for sin. Give everyone what they truly desire!"
"…Hah?"
Lock stared blankly for a moment.
What was this lunatic talking about?
He didn't hate society.
And Shigaraki's choice of words—
They were suspiciously poetic, manipulative…
and not even Shigaraki-like.
These weren't his own thoughts.
They were someone else's doctrine.
Someone far above him.
All For One.
---
A/N: 30% OFF ON ALL THE FANFIC FOR FEW DAYS CODE "NS300"
A/N: Advanced Chapters Have Been Uploaded On My Patreon
Support: patreon.com/Narrator_San