But there's that word, "evil".
"He's so evil," you said, delightedly, although what you actually meant was "petty".
You loved the smallness in him, the willingness to inflict egregious little hurts. Because he did openly what you wanted to do, mired in your resentments and your envies and your utterly trivial wishes after recompense.
I don't know him. I know you. You're not evil. You're small. You're the realization of human pettiness in all its grasping. Grasping after things you'll never be, the stature you'll never achieve. Small, destructive, manipulative, narcissistic. Where his pettiness fit you like a second skin.