Chapter 2: The Villain’s Reflection

Me, I be the wicked supporting character, and this na the third year since I fake my own death.

Sometimes when breeze blow for night, I go dey remember who I really be—the person wey people for palace dey point finger give, the one wey market women dey gossip about for their stall. My name fit enter mouth, but na only God and my system know my real wahala.

It’s also the twenty-first year since I waka enter this world.

I still dey wonder if na by mistake I land for this kain life, or if na destiny just decide say I go run mad drama.

After hustling for nineteen years, I complete every task wey the system give me, sharp-sharp.

Tasks upon tasks—some na small thing like pouring salt for another princess garri, others na heavy. If system say, "Go slap that old guard," I go do am. If e say, "Arrange party wey go scatter," na me be the planner. Na so my skin thick.

I keep up the role of the villainous princess, always pushing the story go front.

Every palace gist, na me dey set am rolling—if peace dey, I go find way bring small chaos. Sometimes sef, the elders dey look me with one eye, dey wonder wetin dey inside my head.

All these years, I dey cause wahala for the main characters for public, but for back, na me dey help them fight all their enemies.

Nobody really sabi say behind all the palace drama, na me dey move things so the real threats no go swallow everybody. Even snake for garden no sharp reach me.

Sometimes, I even do myself strong thing.

After all, na me be the number one villain for this story—the princess wey hold power for the palace, Morayo.

The name dey enter mouth well, like pepper inside stew—Morayo the Wahala.

Thank God o, my hustle pay off.

I dey always talk say, "No be by power, na by sense." E really pay.

After the final act, the system give me enough chop money to last many lifetimes, just as e promise.

The day I receive that alert for my mind, I almost shout, "Oluwa o se!" If to say na real cash, I for spray am for church thanksgiving.

The king now—my former brother and the main man—dey rule well, sabi people full palace, everywhere dey peaceful.

Even town crier dey praise am for junction every market day—“Femi the wise, Femi the strong!” Even my old enemies no fit talk anyhow again.

Because of them, for the past two years, the country dey calm, people dey happy.

No more curfew, no more soldiers for street—everybody dey chop suya for night, dey gist for bar till morning. My mind rest small.

That one mean say I fit waka for Palm Grove Estate anyhow, dey play with cat and dog, or dey toast fine boys and girls.

Life just dey sweet me.

Sometimes, if NEPA bring light, I go put highlife for radio, cross leg, drink zobo, and thank God say trouble don pass. Even the cat dey learn dance step from me.

E be like say everything don calm down, all those madness, blood, love and hate, machete and blade, all don end.

But for Naija, if water calm too much, person suppose check whether crocodile dey under.