The Villain's Retirement Plan

The heavy cloak hung over his shoulders like a shadow that refused to let go. The dark lord, once feared across kingdoms, stood at the edge of the cliff, staring down at the swirling mists below. His name had been uttered in hushed tones, his deeds told to frighten children into behaving. But today, that name was going to vanish—forever.

He pulled the cloak tighter, feeling the chill of dawn creeping up his spine. The world was quiet as if holding its breath, waiting to see what he would do. With a deep sigh, he raised a hand, his fingers tracing a rune in the air, one last flourish of the dark magic that had once been his identity. The rune glowed a deep red, then crumbled into dust, carried away by the wind.

He turned away from the cliff, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. For the first time in centuries, he felt... free. No minions to command, no empires to conquer. Just him, and the promise of a quiet life. He looked down at his new clothes—simple, unassuming. A gardener’s attire, picked out specifically to blend in. He patted the pocket where his forged identity papers lay. Today, he wasn’t the dark lord. Today, he was Harris, a simple man moving to Greenhollow Village.

Greenhollow Village was everything he had hoped it would be—small, remote, and utterly ordinary. The kind of place where nothing important ever happened. Harris arrived just as the sun was beginning to rise, the village slowly waking up with the light. He led his cart, loaded with his few belongings, along the cobbled path that served as the village’s main street.

People were already bustling about, setting up their stalls for the market day. Harris kept his head down, avoiding eye contact. He could feel the curious gazes of the villagers, but none approached him. Perfect, he thought, let them see me as a stranger. He was here to disappear, after all.

He found his new cottage at the far edge of the village—a small, somewhat run-down place with an overgrown garden. It was perfect. The less attention it drew, the better. Harris took a deep breath, the air filled with the scent of dew-covered grass and distant woodsmoke. He could get used to this.

“Hello there!” a cheerful voice called out, startling him. He turned to see an older woman standing at the gate, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “You must be the new neighbor. I’m Martha, I live just next door.”

Harris forced a smile, though it felt foreign on his face. “Yes, I’m Harris. Just moved in.”

Martha nodded, her gaze lingering on him as if trying to figure him out. “Well, welcome to Greenhollow! If you need anything, just let me know. It’s nice to have some new blood in the village.” She gave him a wink, and Harris couldn’t help but feel a pang of unease. He had hoped to stay under the radar, but it seemed even in a quiet village, people were nosy.

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind,” Harris replied, hoping that would end the conversation. But Martha, it seemed, had other ideas.

“So, what brings you here? Family? Work?” she asked, leaning casually against the gate.

Harris hesitated for a moment. He had prepared for this, of course. “Just... needed a change of pace,” he said. “Wanted somewhere quiet.”

Martha smiled knowingly. “Oh, I understand that. Life can get so hectic. Well, you’ll find plenty of peace here, I promise you that.” With that, she waved and walked away, leaving Harris alone once more.

He sighed, looking at his overgrown garden. It seemed his first task as Harris the Gardener would be to tame this wild patch of land. He rolled up his sleeves, glancing at his hands—hands that had once summoned storms and commanded armies. Now, they would pull weeds and plant flowers. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

As he began working, a strange sense of calm settled over him. Perhaps, just perhaps, this could work. A quiet life, away from everything. A chance to forget the past and be someone else. He had faked his death, abandoned his title, and left his old life behind. Now, he just had to keep it that way.