Although I had experienced many things since coming to this world as Aurelius, in truth only a very short amount of ti had passed. Even so, I had adapted to my new life with surprising ease. I had even managed to get myself a girlfriend in that brief span. And yet, sothing was missing: I still didn’t feel like a villain.
I had killed people, stolen coins from goblins, and traumatized a girl to the point of making her dependent on , yet none of it left a satisfying taste in my mouth. Granted, I was behaving exactly like the kind of man aspired to be: cold, ruthless when necessary, and above all, self-interested.
What I had done so far was clear enough to be written neatly into a ledger, but the dark resonance I expected to feel inside myself had still not taken shape. It was as if all those actions belonged to soone else, and I was rely a shadow making the correct move at the correct mont. I thought evil should carry weight, sothing irreversible that seeped into a person’s core. And yet I was still thinking, still weighing options, sotis even feeling sothing that could be mistaken for regret. That was unacceptable.
Perhaps the problem was not the quantity of what I had done, but its nature.Killing soone, especially soone who was already considered ’expendable’ by this world, was not as transformative as people had imagined.Coins stolen from goblins ant nothing more than better equipnt and more comfortable nights. As for the girl... yes, that was more complicated. I had broken her, reshaped her, made her need . But even that I had done out of necessity rather than pleasure, according to plan rather than impulse. Perhaps that was what was missing.
Being a villain was not rely about making cold decisions. It was about willingly bearing the responsibility for those decisions. About being able to smile while knowing the world stood against you. On the other hand, I still felt like a foreigner trying to decipher the rules of this world: soone who had learnt the ga’s chanics and morised the most efficient routes, but had not yet truly started playing.
That was when I realized the issue was neither morality nor conscience. It was will. I was still reacting, not directing. I was pushed forward by events, and I chose the most rational path. However, a true villain was the cause of the events, the first link in the chain. The excuse behind disasters.
I did have certain plans in mind for when I went to the academy, but until winter ended I would remain in this castle. I wished real life worked like the web novels I had read, where these dull stretches could be skipped with a simple line like, "A few months later."
Still, I had a few ideas to keep myself entertained over the coming weeks: seducing the baroness, finishing the physical enhancent potions, bedding Luciene in different locations, and then setting out on another journey to find the legendary component required for physical perfection.
The fact that I could list these plans so casually was ironic in itself. I sounded less like the architect of calamities and more like a rchant drafting a to-do list. Nevertheless, I could not deny it: if I wanted to advance in this world and bend it to my will, I first had to keep myself occupied. A bored mind made mistakes, and soone who made mistakes either died or beca a tool. I wanted neither.
Perhaps the feeling of being a villain did not arrive all at once. Perhaps it was woven slowly through decisions made, screams ignored and deliberate choices. If that was the case, I was in no hurry. Winter was long, and the nights were quiet.
In any case, my break from tedious training ends here. I still need to complete hours of the sword-swinging event...
"The power that sent here... I love you, truly I do, but being reincarnated as Aurelius a few years later wouldn’t have been so bad."
Hours later
The ache in my arms was deep enough to make forget the concept of ti altogether. My muscles were no longer burning; they were outright protesting. I drove the sword into the ground and stood there for a few seconds. My breathing was uneven, yet my mind was strangely clear. Perhaps monotony did that: it exhausted the body while forcing the mind to think.
At that mont, a young maid approached .
"Aurelius, the lady requests your presence in her chambers."
I loosened my grip on the hilt. The steel embedded in the soil trembled slightly along with my shaking hand. When I looked at the maid, she averted her eyes; it was hard to tell whether it was out of respect or shyness.
"Is there any urgency?" I asked, my voice calr than I expected.
"No, but she would like you to co as soon as possible."
"Very well. I’ll co after I’ve washed."
She bowed and hurried away, her footsteps soon fading among the stones of the courtyard. The path to the bathhouse passed through so of the quietest corridors of the castle at that hour. Servants were busy with evening preparations, and the soldiers were changing shifts.
As the warm water loosened my muscles, my thoughts began to move again. By the ti I dressed in clean clothes and left my room, it was already late. The castle itself had grown silent. When I stopped before Lady Catherine’s door, light seeped out from within. I knocked a few tis, and her velvety voice replied that the door was open.
When I entered, the room felt like a different world compared to the rest of the castle. The fireplace was lit, but the flas were deliberately subdued, shaping shadows rather than dazzling. The candles served the sa purpose. The light concealed corners and revealed faces selectively.
Catherine was not seated at her desk. That caught my attention. She usually liked to control conversations; the desk was a barrier, a boundary. Instead, she stood by the window, watching the darkness outside. The nightdress she wore accentuated the curves of her body and drew my eye. In this world, such fabric was expensive.
I closed the door behind . The solid sound of it shutting made the silence in the room heavier. Catherine still faced the window.The snow fell slowly and steadily, indifferent to everything. The world continued in its own rhythm, unaware of what was happening inside.
"Co here, Aurelius," she said, finally turning toward .
Near the bookcase by the fireplace stood a small table with two chairs. On it rested an expensive champagne and two glasses. When she reached the table, Catherine picked up the bottle and quietly removed the cork, clearly uninterested in theatrics. As the foam filled the glasses, light shimred across the liquid. She slid one toward and took the other, but did not drink.
"Sit," she said. This ti it was not a request; it was direction.
"Are you planning to get the most important youth you sponsor drunk tonight?" I asked.
The corner of Catherine’s lips curved ever so slightly.
"Don’t worry. I chose a light champagne on purpose. Though if you prefer, I can bring sothing stronger from my stash," she replied with a faint smile.
"Why did you call here tonight? You know I might misunderstand, especially when you’re wearing sothing that lovely."
For a mont, Catherine just laughed and didn’t answer. She neither raised the glass to her lips nor set it down, instead slowly turning it between her fingers. Ripples ford on the champagne’s surface, flashing briefly in the candlelight.
"Maybe I simply didn’t want to be alone tonight. Does there have to be a reason?"
I did not take my eyes off her.
"There doesn’t have to be," I said calmly, "but I prefer there to be."
She finally placed the glass on the table. The sound of glass this ti was sharper. Then she looked at . There was sadness in her eyes, and sothing else, which I could not quite decipher.
"Today is my birthday... They say I was born on a snowy night, just like this one... For years, I spent this night wishing I had never been born," she said. Then she reached across the table, took one of my hands, and held it between both of hers. "For the first ti, I don’t feel that way. For the first ti, I’m grateful to have been born, and you are to bla for that."
Her words lingered in the room. Even the crackling of the fireplace seed to retreat for a mont. Her grip was not tight, but it was not loose enough to invite escape either.
"That’s quite an accusation," I said. My voice was calm, though my mind was already calculating. "Isn’t it a bit early to hold responsible for your birthday?"
Catherine smiled. This ti it was not warm. It was the smile of soone poking fun at herself and not particularly troubled by it.
"That’s not the answer you’re supposed to give when a woman opens up to you, young man," she said lightly.
I returned the smile and lifted the hand she held, placing it gently against her cheek.
"Happy birthday, Catherine."
Her smile faltered for a mont. It wasn’t the words she hadn’t expected; it was the touch. The warmth of my palm disrupted the carefully arranged distances in the room. It was neither hurried nor innocent. It was deliberate.
She did not pull away. Instead, her fingers slid toward my wrist and stopped there.
I felt my na on her lips, spoken slowly, as if weighed.
"Aurelius..."
For a mont, Catherine’s blue eyes appeared darker in the flickering firelight. Her gaze did not waver; it deepened with intent. Her lips parted slightly, her breathing slowed to a noticeable pace. She tilted her head at the slightest angle. It was not so much an invitation as a wordless, irrevocable consent.
I did not miss the signal.
As I rose from the chair, I leaned against the table. The glasses trembled but did not fall. The distance between us closed in a single step. My hand slid over the fingers still resting on my wrist; this ti, I held her. We did not look away. There was no rush, no hesitation.
I leaned in and kissed her.
It was brief, asured and unhesitating, not intended as a test of boundaries, but to acknowledge that it had already been crossed. Catherine did not retreat. On the contrary, she returned the kiss for a fleeting mont, then leaned back. She rested her forehead against mine, keeping her eyes open.
"I wish you had co into my life years ago" she whispered.
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