Reincarnated As A First Rate Villain: I Don't Know How To Play My Role Chapter 50

A while later, the crowd around Lucien had thickened, especially with girls from various noble houses now bravely stepping forward. The earlier reluctance had lted into eagerness, and one by one, girls offered their gifts to the young heir of House Velebrandt. From enchanted books and rare mana-ink pens to finely crafted amulets imbued with elental resistance, the array of presents was dazzling.

So girls, more bold than others, asked personal questions.

"Young Lord Lucien... do you perhaps already have a girl you fancy in your heart?" asked a girl with amber curls and a voice like windchis. Her eyes sparkled nervously.

Lucien blinked, slightly overwheld, but maintained his regal calm. "Ah... I’m afraid the only woman in my heart right now is my mother. She’d scold otherwise," he said with a gentle smile. Laughter rippled through the group of girls, a mix of amusent and relief.

Another girl, more curious, leaned forward with wide eyes. "Young master, is it true your hair shone silver since birth? Does it glow under moonlight?"

Lucien chuckled softly. "I’ve never checked under a full moon, but I’ll take note next ti."

The girls giggled again, enchanted not only by his answers but the grace and warmth with which he spoke.

"Truly... he’s like a prince from the old tales," whispered one of the noble daughters to her friend.

"He’s more than that," the other girl replied. "He’s real... and perfect."

On the other side of the grand hall, the girls’ parents exchanged satisfied glances. Whispers and conversations flowed:

"Such charisma. And only ten? The boy will rule hearts when he cos of age."

"A fine candidate for an engagent. And look at how well he carries himself."

"Not just handso, but born from a ducal house... he’s already more accomplished than most grown nobles."

While their daughters mingled, many parents turned toward one another to discuss matters of politics, trade, and alliances.

"House Velebrandt has always been at the frontier of power," muttered an older man with a pipe. "Now with Lucien, they’ll command hearts as well as armies."

"This is the ti to foster ties. I heard the western region’s ore trade has seen another spike," said another.

"This celebration is clearly more than just for a birthday," noted a rchant duchess. "It’s a stage for the empire’s future."

anwhile, Lucien still stood politely amidst the gathering girls, though internally he was trying to manage the sheer intensity of attention.

"Your clothes are so refined, young master Lucien. Where are they from?" a girl asked.

Lucien slightly surprise by the sudden question of his clothes thought deeply and answered "They’re woven from House Velebrandt’s exclusive mana-thread. My mother says they breathe better than clouds," he replied with an elegant gesture and lies since Lucien didn’t cared much about the clothes that he wore.

Just then, the atmosphere shifted.

A deep, clear voice reverberated through the hall. "His Grace, Grand Duke Aldric Thorne Velebrandt and Her Grace, Archduchess Seraphina Lysandra Velebrandt!"

Everyone turned their attention toward the grand double doors at the opposite end of the hall. With solemn majesty, the doors creaked open. Through them stepped the figures of Lucien’s parents, radiant in their nobility.

The Grand Duke wore a rich azure robe lined with platinum thread, a deep blue sash bearing the sigil of the winged lion across his broad chest. His long silver hair was tied with a band of enchanted velvet, and his stride exuded strength and confidence.

Beside him, the Archduchess Seraphina glided with ethereal grace. Her golden gown shimred with runes that softly pulsed with light, each step echoing with the sound of jeweled slippers. Her hair, cascading in golden waves, frad her regal face, glowing under the ballroom lights.

Their aura was palpable—commanding respect with every breath. Yet even then, murmurs passed through the crowd.

"They’re breathtaking as always... but did you see the young heir earlier? Even they couldn’t overshadow him."

"The future of House Velebrandt shines even brighter."

The Grand Duke raised a hand, and the crowd fell silent.

"Esteed guests, friends of our house," his voice rang with commanding warmth, "I thank you all for honoring us with your presence on this special evening. Though the System Interface has faltered, and many of us now walk in uncertain tis... we shall not falter. We shall not forget who we are. And tonight, we celebrate the next generation—our children, our legacy."

There was applause, somber and proud.

He continued, "As many of you know, I returned recently from the Abyssgate region. In those lands, dark tides grow bolder. The Abyssian Lord stirs, and his influence reaches farther each moon. But we stand vigilant."

The guests nodded solemnly.

"And while there, I encountered a rare creature, the Argent-Backed Emberboar." Gasps spread through the room.

A second set of large doors opened as several knights wheeled in a long banquet table. Upon it lay the roasted body of the beast, still steaming, golden-crusted, its scent intoxicating. Mage-chefs, dressed in elegant uniforms embroidered with culinary sigils, began slicing the at into delicate portions.

The aroma swept across the room like a spell—herbal, smoky, spiced with magical fennelroot, arcane pepper, and forest honey-glaze. The beast’s at glowed faintly, a sign of mana-rich nutrition.

"The Argent-Backed Emberboar..." one noble muttered. "Those only roam the cursed volcanic valleys of the west... how did he catch one alive?"

"To serve it here... this is no birthday feast. This is a declaration," another whispered.

The Grand Duke gave one final nod. "Let this night be one of joy and resolve. The celebration... begins."

Applause thundered through the hall.

_____________________________

Guests, both noble and influential, surged eagerly toward the long, wheeled banquet table at the far end of the hall, where the legendary beast at was being carefully sliced and portioned by elite culinary mage-chefs. Crystalline carving knives etched with runes humd gently as they sliced through the shimring flesh of the beast, which glowed faintly under the ambient chandeliers. Aromas—rich, savory, and layered with fragrant magic—danced in the air like invisible tendrils, causing stomachs to rumble despite the recent al.

"That flavor... do you feel that mana tingle on your tongue?" whispered one elderly nobleman to his companion, eyes wide with hunger and reverence.

"No doubt about it. Only beasts from the Western frontlines produce this kind of ethereal delicacy" said another, his voice thick with awe and saliva.

While the social currents flowed and sches subtly churned beneath smiles, Lucien was gracious yet growing weary. Though he valued politeness, a small voice in his mind yearned for so quiet. So when the girls eagerly asked if he would join them in sampling the beast at, Lucien agreed, seeing it as both polite and an opportunity to take a brief step back.

They collected small enchanted plates—glinting with warmth-preserving enchantnts—and elegant utensils made from refined mithril. Lucien took modest portions of the Argent-Backed Emberboar at and so accompanying mana-infused herbs like Moonveil leaf and Dreamlace Petals, both grown in high-altitude gardens only found in Velebrandt territory.

Taking a bite, Lucien paused.

His eyes widened faintly. The at was impossibly tender, breaking apart with no resistance. A strange heat blood in his chest, not from spice, but from the circulating mana—the flavors deepened the longer he chewed, from buttery smoothness to a smoky, haunting richness that lingered.

"...This is on another level," he whispered under his breath.

One of the girls nearby leaned in excitedly. "Do you like it? My family tried to purchase a pound of it’s at once, but we were outbid by a royal auction!"

Lucien nodded. "It’s incredible. The taste blend is subtle but... strangely invigorating."

Still, he didn’t linger long. After offering the group of girls a courteous bow and polite thanks, he excused himself, taking his chilled juice and retreating to a quieter corner. There, under the shadow of an arched window glowing faintly with runes, he sipped and observed.

He watched as minor nobles laughed, rchants toasted with their partners, and children danced among each other with innocence only the very young could have. He wondered briefly where his little brother Emilien had gone.

"He’s probably fast asleep by now," Lucien muttered to himself with a fond smile. "Smart of Mother to keep him away from the noise."

As the night matured, the scene changed. Arcane musicians entered, carrying strange, shimring instrunts: one resembled a crystalline harp that pulsed with light when strumd, another was a floating flute powered by breath and mana simultaneously. Their lody swept across the room like a slow waltz, ethereal and haunting.

The grand dining hall subtly transford. The long tables folded and glided magically toward the edges, vanishing into the walls. The marble tiles of the floor shimred, revealing runic patterns beneath—activating enchantnts that softened sound and illuminated soft golden light underfoot. The celebration had transford into a grand ballroom.

Couples began to form as the music soared. Parents took the hands of their spouses, sharing quiet laughter, lost in mories of their own youth. Noble sons invited ladies to dance, and social gas continued under the pretense of elegance.

Lucien remained in his corner, content, swirling his glass of chilled juice. The flavor was difficult to describe—floral with a citrus tang, but layered with sothing else, sothing lightly fizzy, like distant stars had been crushed into its making.

He closed his eyes briefly, appreciating the stillness—

"Ahem."

A voice and a gesture broke his calm. A soft hand reached toward him.

Lucien opened his eyes and found himself looking up at Eléa Fionelle Asterre. Her braided pink hair and her golden eyes shimring with curiosity and determination.

"Would you care to dance, Lord Lucien?" she asked, her voice soft but confident.

Lucien blinked, a slow warmth creeping into his cheeks. He hadn’t expected to be approached directly like this—certainly not by her again.

But he gave a small smile and stood, placing his glass aside. "It would be an honor, Lady Asterre."

And with that, Lucien took her hand, the soft music swelling behind them as they stepped toward the center of the ballroom, two young figures beginning their dance beneath the starlit chandeliers of Velebrandt Hall.