The Villain's Retirement Plan

The morning after the Harvest Festival, Harris awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside his window and the faint rustling of leaves. He lay still for a moment, letting the quiet sounds of Greenhollow wash over him. It was peaceful, a stark contrast to the mornings of his past, where his first thoughts had been about strategies, enemies, and power. Here, the most pressing concern was whether he’d have time to finish weeding the garden before noon.

He got up, dressed, and stepped outside, inhaling the crisp morning air. His garden, though still a work in progress, looked much better than when he had first arrived. He found himself feeling a small sense of pride in that. He had transformed something chaotic into something with a semblance of order, and in a way, it reflected his own journey.

As he began his work, Harris heard footsteps approaching. He looked up to see Liam walking down the path towards his cottage, his face bright with excitement. “Harris!” Liam called out, waving. “You’re up early. I thought I’d come by and see if you needed any help.”

Harris raised an eyebrow. “Help with what?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“With, you know, the garden or anything else you’re working on,” Liam said, coming to a stop at the gate. “I figured it’d be nice to help out. Plus, I thought you could teach me a thing or two.”

Harris was taken aback. It had been centuries since anyone had wanted to learn from him in such an innocent way. In his old life, those who sought his tutelage were after dark magic, power, or conquest. But Liam, it seemed, just wanted to learn how to grow tomatoes. It was... refreshing.

“Well,” Harris said after a pause, “I suppose I could use an extra set of hands.” He gestured towards the weeds near the fence. “Start over there. And be careful not to pull up the flowers.”

Liam grinned and immediately set to work, rolling up his sleeves. As they worked, Harris found himself answering Liam’s questions about gardening, the types of plants, and even some advice on general handiwork. The young guard was eager, his enthusiasm infectious in a way that Harris found both strange and surprisingly enjoyable.

“So, Harris,” Liam said as he pulled a weed from the ground, “you’re really good at this. You must have been a gardener before, right?”

Harris paused, considering how to answer. “Something like that,” he said finally. “I’ve worked with my hands before, just... not quite like this.”

Liam nodded, seemingly satisfied with the vague answer. “Well, you’ve got a knack for it. It’s like you’ve got magic hands or something.” He laughed, not realizing how close to the truth he was.

Harris couldn’t help but smirk at that. “Magic, indeed,” he muttered under his breath.

They worked in companionable silence for a while, the sun climbing higher in the sky. For the first time in a long time, Harris felt something he couldn’t quite name—contentment, perhaps. The simplicity of the task, the warmth of the sun, and the presence of someone who genuinely wanted to help without any ulterior motive—it was all foreign to him, but not unwelcome.

After a few hours, they took a break, sitting down on a bench under the shade of a tree. Martha appeared, as if on cue, carrying a tray with two glasses of lemonade. “Thought you boys could use a break,” she said, setting the tray down with a smile.

“Thanks, Martha,” Liam said, taking a glass and gulping it down.

Harris took his own glass, nodding in appreciation. “You always seem to know when we need a break,” he said, eyeing her curiously.

Martha chuckled. “Oh, I’ve got a knack for these things. Besides, it’s nice to see you getting along with the villagers, Harris. You’re fitting in just fine.”

Harris looked away, taking a sip of the lemonade. Fitting in. It was strange to hear that, especially after spending so much of his life as an outsider, feared and hated. But here, in this small village, maybe it was possible.

“Well, I’d better get back to my own chores,” Martha said, giving them a wave as she walked away. “Don’t work too hard, you two.”

Liam leaned back on the bench, a content smile on his face. “See, Harris? Greenhollow’s not so bad. It’s a good place to be.”

Harris looked out at his garden, the sunlight filtering through the leaves, casting dappled shadows across the ground. Perhaps Liam was right. Perhaps this place could be a refuge, a place where he could finally leave the past behind.

But as that thought crossed his mind, Harris felt a familiar twinge—a warning, a sense that things wouldn’t remain this peaceful for long. He knew better than to think he could truly escape his past. It had a way of catching up, no matter how far he ran.

For now, though, he would take what peace he could get. He glanced at Liam, who was now humming a tune under his breath, and allowed himself a small smile. Maybe, just maybe, this life could work after all.