Reincarnated As A First Rate Villain: I Don't Know How To Play My Role Chapter 37

Lucien stood still for a mont, letting the white robe rest comfortably over his newly awakened body. The soft fabric clung to his fra in a way that subtly revealed the broadness of his shoulders and the lean strength now sculpted into his form. The ambient glow from the open bud at his feet cast a gentle, ethereal sheen over him—like a divine garnt suited for a hero from the old hymns.

Turning back, Lucien’s mismatched eyes t Aurorwen’s golden gaze. She had been watching him. Her lips were slightly parted, not in shock, but in a quiet, almost reverent awe. Her earlier composure as a dignified emissary of the Church seed temporarily displaced by her visible surprise—perhaps even a bit of hesitation—as she examined the full extent of Lucien’s transformation. He had not simply grown taller; he had matured in presence, in air, in sothing that made even soone as poised as her feel the shift of atmosphere.

It was Lucien who broke the silence, his voice a calm but curious baritone now deeper than the childlike tone he once carried.

"How long... was I out?"

His eyes drifted downward, toward the glowing bloom beneath their feet. The bud—now unfurled—radiated a dim, pulsating light. It looked less like a plant now and more like sothing ancient and holy, a vessel for secrets too old to be understood.

Lucien pointed a finger toward it, not accusingly, but with quiet fascination.

"And what is this?" he asked. "Where did the Root of the World go?"

Despite how natural the questions flowed from his lips, there was a calculated avoidance in his tone—a careful omission. Not once did he ntion the fact that she had held him in her arms while he was butt naked. Not once did he allow his gaze to linger in discomfort or judgnt. He moved past the mont as if it were a distant fog, long since burned away by the light of the awakening.

Aurorwen tilted her head slightly. Her golden eyes shifted from Lucien’s striking face to the radiant bloom, as if searching for the words. Her white-gloved hands folded neatly before her as she answered in a soft voice.

"It’s been about an hour," she said, her voice clear in the stillness. "The glowing bud appeared the mont you touched the Root of the World. As for the root itself... I don’t know. It disappeared. My theory is—this bloom we’re standing on—it might be the Root, transford."

Lucien nodded, taking in her words without interruption. Inside, however, his thoughts spun.

Just one hour?

That didn’t feel right. In the domain of the goddess Elyssira, ti had stretched like an endless sea. He had spoken with her at length, questioned, hesitated, thought deeply. Yet here, only sixty minutes had passed. The sensation unsettled him—not in fear, but in recognition of the truth: the laws of reality bent beneath divinity.

Reflexively, Lucien reached inward.

—System Interface, open.

Silence answered.

He blinked.

Right. The goddess had told him herself.

"The system will shut down."

There would be no more windows detailing his level. No power rankings. No neat categorization of skills.

Lucien sighed inwardly. It didn’t worry him. If anything, it ant freedom—freedom from rigid trics and the eyes of those who sought to judge by numbers.

Still, the quiet was odd.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed sothing strange.

His gaze flicked toward Aurorwen. At first, he thought the room might be playing tricks on him. But no—there was sothing different.

"Is it just ," he said slowly, "or... has Miss Aurorwen gotten a little smaller?"

Aurorwen blinked, her golden lashes fluttering with surprise. Then, after a mont, her lips curved into a soft smile. A slight blush crept up her cheeks, like a ripple on the surface of still water.

"No," she said gently. "You’ve gotten taller. It’s likely an effect of your awakening."

Lucien raised his eyebrows and looked down at himself, as if truly seeing his body for the first ti. His arms, once slender with youth, were now corded with muscle. His chest had broadened. Even his height—he now stood well above Aurorwen. Her head barely reached his shoulder.

He took a quiet breath and exhaled.

"So that’s what it did," he murmured to himself.

He turned his gaze once more to the glowing bloom beneath his feet. A part of him still itched to understand it, to question further. But for now, he said nothing. The questions could wait.

Lucien’s pale fingertips brushed the long sleeve of his robe as he studied the contours of his arms, the slight broadening of his shoulders, the firmness of his once-youthful fra. The robe fit him awkwardly now—tight across the chest, loose around the waist—as though it was never ant for this new body. He flexed his fingers slowly, testing each joint, each ligant, as though making sure they truly belonged to him. The awakening had not only changed his appearance; it had altered sothing deeper, sothing still unfurling within.

A soft voice cut through his thoughts. "Young master Lucien," Aurorwen said gently, her golden eyes observing him with a subtle gleam of curiosity. "May I ask you a few questions?"

Lucien turned toward her. He blinked once, the expression on his face shifting from surprise to guarded hesitation. "If you’re going to ask about what I saw... or what happened inside that place," he said, his voice quiet but firm, "I’m sorry. I can’t speak of it. It’s... private."

His mind echoed with the final words of the goddess Elyssira, spoken in that place of impossible stillness. "Kazuki, please... keep our conversation secret."

Aurorwen paused, seemingly caught off guard, but she quickly nodded with grace and understanding. "I see. Forgive , I didn’t an to intrude. That was not my intent."

Lucien’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

"What I wanted to ask," Aurorwen continued, a bit more cautiously, "was whether you know which power you awakened. Was it mana, aura, or perhaps... holy power?"

Lucien lowered his gaze, his silver lashes brushing against his cheeks as he thought deeply. He searched inward, to the shifting sensations within him. They weren’t violent or chaotic, but they were... unfamiliar. Sothing was stirring inside—a current, threading through his core, humming with silent intensity.

"I’m not sure," Lucien finally admitted, lifting his eyes to et hers. "I can’t say what I awakened. There’s sothing there, sothing new." But now that the system interface is gone, I can’t see or asure it. I can only feel it.

He didn’t add that it felt like the world itself was moving through him.

Aurorwen tilted her head slightly, a small sigh escaping her lips. "That’s to be expected, young master. The system interface used to act as a mirror—a tool to understand one’s strength and potential. But now, with it gone, many will face the sa uncertainty. They’ll have to learn to listen inward, to feel the currents within their own bodies."

Lucien nodded silently, but his thoughts were not still. Because of , he thought. The system shut down after I left her domain... I was the last one to pass through before it began to collapse.

A tightness coiled in his chest. He said nothing.

Aurorwen looked at him kindly and offered a small smile. "We should probably go now. Your escort—Sir Rex, and your maid, Marie—they must be terribly worried by now."

Lucien blinked, her words snapping him out of his reverie. "Marie... and Rex..."

He’d forgotten about them completely.

A hint of guilt tugged at him as he imagined Marie pacing back and forth, wringing her hands, and Rex standing at attention, silently fuming or biting his tongue in concern. The long wait must have felt like ages to them.

"Yes," he agreed quietly, tightening the robe around himself. "Let’s go."

Aurorwen gave him a graceful nod and began walking toward the large, intricately carved archway that led to the stone stairwell. Her footsteps were silent against the polished floor, the faint rustle of her golden-trimd cloak the only sound accompanying them.

Lucien followed a few paces behind, casting a final glance back toward the glowing bud at the center of the chamber. It remained in its full bloom, faintly luminescent, pulsing with a soft, ethereal light. He wondered if it was truly the Root of the World, transford beyond recognition—or if sothing entirely different had been birthed in its place.

He didn’t know.

As they ascended the winding spiral staircase carved into the raw stone of the temple’s underbelly, the light dimd and grew warr. Each step brought them closer to the surface—and to the growing clamor of voices, the muffled sound of boots on tile, of anxious murmurs and distant shouts.

Lucien walked in silence, the weight of change pressing on his shoulders, the echo of divine words etched into his soul. He no longer had the system. He no longer had answers. But he had himself.

And sohow, he knew that would have to be enough.