Villain Life Simulator

Hogwarts, Gryffindor common room.

"Why is it that every other transmigrator who lands in the magical world is a once-in-a-century prodigy, with professors fighting over them and the House Cup practically handed to them on a silver platter... while me—I actually got into Hogwarts, but I'm a certified 'bottom-of-the-barrel student'? What am I even supposed to be doing here? Sitting in as an observer?!"

Caesar stared at the latest Charms exam results posted on the bulletin board, his chest tight with frustration.

That wasn't just a grade—it was proof of how much effort he'd poured in, only to end up with this pitiful showing.

In his past life, Caesar had been an ordinary man named Lin Yuan, living a plain but complete twenty-five years.

Until 2025, when a fire swallowed everything in an instant...

Now, nearly half a year into his time at Hogwarts, his current identity was Harry Potter's cousin.

A special case admitted only thanks to his barely detectable magical fluctuations and Dumbledore's meaningful permission.

When he'd first received that acceptance letter, he'd been ecstatic, his dreams painted in gold, full of magnificent fantasies.

Like, maybe any moment now, Professor McGonagall would announce with relief that he had some extraordinary talent that just needed special guidance.

Or maybe some ancient tome from the Restricted Section would resonate with him, letting him unlock a magic unique to himself.

Or perhaps a transcendent system would awaken in his mind, telling him that from today onward, the mission of upholding the House's honor and writing a legend was his to bear.

But as the days passed, expectations were ground into fine sand by reality, slipping through his fingers.

Now, he didn't dare hope for any other miracles. He just wanted to successfully cast one basic spell, to stop making a fool of himself in class, to quietly sit in and observe if that was all he could manage.

But today, the Charms exam results were posted.

This was Professor Flitwick's strictest subject, and also Hermione Granger's specialty.

The results sheet was long, densely packed with names.

And his score still hung pitifully at the very bottom.

Next to every high-scoring evaluation, the name "Hermione Granger" blazed like an eyesore.

Why did Caesar know this so clearly?

Because every time he was publicly corrected, every time he was mocked in comparison, it all came back to her!

Right now, all his efforts had been doused and extinguished by yet another public, silent comparison.

"The protagonist? I guess... I'm really not."

Caesar twitched the corner of his mouth, unsure if it was a smile or a sigh.

"Merlin's Beard, Caesar, you messed up again!"

A lowered but still sharp exclamation came from beside him, carrying undisguised reproach.

Hermione Granger's brows were knitted into a knot, her gaze behind her glasses as sharp as a scalpel:

"I hand-copied the seven precise wand movements and pronunciation points for the Cheering Charm for you last week! Did you even look at them?"

Caesar's lips moved. He wanted to explain that the magic just wouldn't stabilize at his wand tip, that he'd memorized the movements but the spell's light always scattered weakly when he cast it.

But all the words stuck in his throat. Under Hermione's gaze—that look of "Why can't you learn something so simple?"—any explanation felt hollow.

"I looked at them," he finally said dryly.

"Looked at them?" Hermione's voice couldn't help rising a notch, drawing a few mocking glances from Slytherin students in the front rows. "And this is the result? You've cost Gryffindor twenty points this week alone!"

Ron and Harry looked over nervously from the side, not daring to speak.

Being humiliated in front of so many people, Caesar's expression slowly soured. None of that was his intention.

His pitifully thin magic worked only sporadically, and his control was a disaster—this was fundamentally a talent issue.

But in Hermione's relentless view, it was all ironclad proof that he "didn't preview, didn't practice, didn't take it seriously."

"I don't want this either!" Caesar finally couldn't hold back. "Do you think I don't want to pronounce the spell correctly? Do you think I want every wand wave to have no effect?"

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"Then put in the corresponding effort!" Hermione didn't back down an inch.

Then she walked straight over, pointing at her own neat notes: "Look at this! This is the gap! Magic doesn't favor the lazy or the lucky, Caesar!

Hogwarts isn't a place for you to 'experience life'! You're here, so you follow the rules. The way you are now, you're dragging down the whole of Gryffindor!"

"Dragging down"—those two words stabbed into Caesar's heart like an ice pick.

He jerked his head up, meeting Hermione's eyes, which were full of frustration at his failure.

Behind her, Harry awkwardly bowed his head, pretending to read, while Ron shot Caesar a helpless grimace.

"So, in your eyes, someone like me being at Hogwarts is just a burden, right?"

Caesar's voice turned cold. This wasn't about effort at all—it was about talent.

Hermione's face flushed red, as if his retort and choice of words had stung her, but her pride and her unwavering belief in "rules and effort above all" wouldn't let her back down.

"That's not what I meant! But you could at least—at least show some sign of improvement! Instead of repeating the same mistakes over and over, and then putting on that...

That 'I can't help it' face! Do you have any idea how much harder the rest of us have to work to make up for the points you lose for our House? Is that fair to us?"

"It's not fair! Of course it's not!" Caesar shot to his feet.

He no longer looked at Hermione's face, which had frozen in shock before twisting into even greater anger, nor did he acknowledge Professor Flitwick's startled gaze from across the classroom.

He simply grabbed his schoolbag—which had hardly anything worth packing—shoved his chair aside, and amid a ripple of whispers and stunned stares, burst out of the cold, oppressive third-floor classroom.

The school streets shifted colors in the afternoon.

At some point, the leaden clouds had swallowed the last ray of sunlight, the air so heavy it could wring out water. Just as Caesar passed the third intersection with no destination in mind, the rain began to fall without warning.

Pitter-patter—

At first sparse and scattered, then quickly linking into threads, and in an instant, a torrential downpour crashed down like a waterfall.

Students on the road cried out in surprise and scattered, hurriedly seeking shelter. Only Caesar did not quicken his pace in the slightest.

There is no greater sorrow than a dead heart.

The icy rain lashed fiercely against his body, soaking his thick brown hair until it clung in strands to his forehead.

His thin black school uniform was instantly drenched, plastered tightly to his frame, outlining the lean but already upright build of a young man.

Rainwater streamed continuously along his sharp jawline, trickling past his neck and vanishing into his collar.

"What's happening?"

Suddenly, Caesar felt neither cold nor humiliated.

Instead, a strange, almost pleasurable calm enveloped him.

All the external noise, panic, dampness, and chill seemed to be blocked by an invisible barrier.

Right there on the rain-soaked street, unnoticed by anyone, beneath Hogwarts' leaden gray sky.

A clear, cold voice, directly imprinting itself onto his consciousness, finally tore through the long-standing hazy barrier and fully materialized before his eyes:

[Protagonist conditions met... Resonance confirmed...]
[Cognitive threshold breached... Host spirit stable...]
['Villain Life Simulator' binding complete.]
[World loaded: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone]
[Identity loaded: Caesar Dursley]
[Core rules: Experience, Choose, Shape. Every simulation you undergo will accumulate traits, influencing the real world.]
[Beginner guidance simulation about to commence...]
[Enjoy your game, future 'Villain'.]

In the curtain of rain, Caesar abruptly stopped. The system's information flooded into his mind in an instant, and deep in his eyes, the light that had lain dormant for years finally sharpened into a piercing gleam.