Chapter 1: I'm The Villain

**Cough! Cough! Cough!**

"So this is how I'm going to die huh?"

A mumble so weak that it sounded like a mosquito.

Finding it hard to breathe, I desperately clung for another breath.

I could feel a wet sensation flowing through my forehead. A metallic taste on my lips, and the smell of gasoline in my car.

‹Am I going to die?› I inwardly questioned but to no avail. Then suddenly a familiar voice echoed from afar.

"Call an AMBULANCE!!!"

I gathered the strength to move my head to look for the source of the voice, only for it to fail as I could feel my blood continuously drain out.

The same could be said for my life.

Until...

I could no longer think straight. Simultaneously, silence and an impending sense of comfort slowly enveloped me.

What followed after was darkness.

I thought it was scary but it was oddly comfortable.

*‹ How long have I felt this comfortable?›* I asked in sorrow. But I knew I never did again when I was not in the embrace of my mother.

Hundreds of thoughts filled my mind only to realize that I lived as a despicable person.

*‹ However, if I'm dead, how come I could still think? ›*

I enquired but that thought was abruptly halted when

**Knock!**

**Knock!**

**Knock!**

The sound of a knock echoed in my ears.

"Young Lord Alfonso, it's breakfast time. Today marks the occasion when you and Miss Valentina embark on a quest to track down a formidable creature," Shortly after A muted voice of a woman followed.

I tried to open my eyes after I realized that the pain I'd been feeling disappeared.

But to my surprise, I can't recognize the luxurious room I'm in.

*‹???›*

A question popped out of my head. I then turned my gaze to the broken mirror only to see a face that was not mine.

A child appears to have aged around twelve years. His eyes were a deep crimson hue, holding an indifferent stare and emanating a chilly demeanor. His hair, black as night, framed his face, and his physique, while unimposing, lacked prominent muscle definition.

Yet despite that, his visage was the most captivating. A striking face that could put even a celebrity in shame. Its flawless face was so remarkable, leading me to believe that he had been chiseled by the hands of divinity, personifying beauty and allure.

Wearing a loose black shirt and dark pajamas only complimented his good looks further.

However, finding my circumstances unbelievable, I raised my hand and tried to slap my face.

"???" Only to inwardly groan in pain when the burning sensation of my slap surged. But that was enough to make me remember the face I'd been staring at.

*‹ Isn't this...! The villain of the game I played. ›*

I cursed inside as I caressed my handsome face.

*‹ Is this some kind of novel where I transmitted in the body of a villain? ›*

While having such thoughts, a question dawned on me.

*‹ The fuck... Is this real? Seriously??? ›*

But before I could even indulge, the sound of a door opening abruptly disrupted me.

**Creak!**

"Sorry for my intrusion, Young Lord, it's time for your breakfast"

Followed by a female voice. Her tone was cold and lifeless.

Slowly, my head turned, only to see a gorgeous woman with ebony tresses cascading around her, and eyes the hue of a clear blue sky, her figure possessed graceful curves that accentuated her allure. Ruby lips curved delicately above a petite nose. Her attire consisted of a maid's uniform, yet her countenance remained devoid of emotion, akin to a lifeless vessel inhabited solely by emptiness.

Yet even though I heard her, I only stayed silent in response. Not giving a sign of moving.

"Hm..."

I let out a sigh.

If I'm being honest, I was stunned by her beauty. However, that admiration soon disappeared when I recalled who she was in the game.

"Young Lord?"

The woman uttered in a questioning tone with a hint of concern as her brows furrowed. But that was only for a brief moment.

Yet even though I heard her clearly, I still stayed silent, deep in pondering.

Finally, I realize I'm inside a game, No— to be precise, I'm inside the body of a villain.

A game that I always played in my past life...

And there... A pitiful villain exists.

**[Alfonso Quiñones]**

He embodied the archetype of a pitiful narcissist, willing to go to any lengths for fame and approval.

A man who regarded the world as a stage where he stood at the epicenter.

"Is everything alright, Young Lord?" The female voice resonated once more, prompting me to turn my cold gaze to her.

Before me was a woman named Mary, a 22-year-old woman, irrevocably bound to the service of this malevolent body 'Alfonso' throughout her existence. Their fates were interwoven; should the master meet its demise, so would she. A contract of servitude, a master-slave bond of sorts.

In the game's narrative, this woman ultimately turns against the villain, her parting words laden with remorse, "I bear the responsibility for his change... Thus, I must accept the consequences" Ultimately, she met her end alongside him.

The motivations underlying her words and actions remain elusive. Why, in the game's realm, she refrained from severing the binding contract when the opportunity presented itself, is a puzzle. What's certain is her unwavering oath to safeguard the villain, though the reasons behind her commitment remain shrouded in mystery.

However, as my gaze settled upon her, an inexplicable surge coursed through me—an intense, consuming emotion:

**hatred.**

This sentiment was familiar from my past life, yet directed towards her, it burned with an intensity that compelled me to restrain a rising urge to confront her. Oddly, I lacked any rationale for this intense antipathy, leaving me perplexed by the unexplainable depth of my feelings.

Because of this, my speculation led me to conclude that the reason behind this animosity might be rooted in the inherent disposition of the body I now inhabit— I'm affected by the fact that this body loathes commoners, considering them insignificant and worthless.

"I find myself in satisfactory condition. I shall soon take my leave," I remarked icily, rising from my seat with an air of poise.

Although a desire in me wanted to engage warmly, I refused since it would arouse suspicion and it's not like I can. Because my body is forcing me to not act in that way. As if it's telling me it's pathetic to even do so.

Mary then offered a nod, visibly perplexed by my actions. "I shall commence preparations for your baths," she interjected before promptly sealing the door.

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"..."

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A weighty silence enveloped the space as I, in turn, remained wordless, my form a portrait of stillness, lingering even as the door closed with a resonant hush.

Surveying my environs, the parallels to the virtual realm of my gaming pursuits struck me with astonishing congruence. Astonishment coursed through my veins as the stark authenticity of this reality solidified before my eyes. The veracity of my circumstances, though implausible, now demanded acceptance.

Verily, I had indeed traversed the threshold of life's cessation, now a denizen of this tangible realm. The remembrance of the searing agony of my mortal wound, a wound now healed, sent involuntary shudders through me.

Severing the tendrils of retrospection, I settled upon the edge of the bed, introspective musings enveloping me like an inescapable cloak. "Does this not signify liberation?" I inquired rhetorically, my voice a whisper tinged with sorrow, the somber realization of my new identity as a malevolent figure lingering heavy in my soul.

"At the very least, I have cast off the shackles that bound me," I declared, the notion clinging to my thoughts as I succumbed to contemplative inertia.

A tide of contemplation flowed, carrying with it my burdens of reflection. In due course, the decision to dismiss such ruminations manifested. With a dismissive gesture, I shifted my thoughts and fixed my gaze upon my own reflection in the mirror, my visage bearing an unwavering grace.

*‹Lamenting my fate and pondering my presence here shall yield naught but futility.›* My internal monologue resounded, a mere whisper carried within my own mind. Thus, with purposeful intent, I departed the confines of my chamber, the initial hobby of cleansing and gracing my features before I ventured forth.

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As I walked, the very locale I once manipulated within the confines of a digital realm unfolded before my eyes. In candid truth, opulence engulfs every facet of my surroundings. The affluence that I relentlessly pursued in my past life, for which I would have gladly shed tears of desperation, now lies within my grasp, as easily commanded as a fleeting thought. The vessel I inhabit is none other than that of a scion of wealth and opulence.

Yet, to relish in these treasures, I must tread cautiously, and survive the ominous premonitions of my demise that linger like a specter. The key to my revelry is inextricably tied to avoiding the impending doom that threatens to befall me. All I must endeavor is to steer clear of descending into the wretched depths of ignominy.

A mirthless smirk graces my features as I mutter to myself, "To be something less reprehensible than excrement should suffice." A deeper contemplation follows for another specter haunts my thoughts — the impending financial ruin that befell this body's family.

Engrossed in plotting my path forward, my reverie is abruptly sundered as a maid stumbles before me, her graceless tumble instigating the cascade of a nearby vase, the resultant cacophony echoing through the air as glass shatters upon impact.

**Crash!!!**

I then halted my footsteps as I looked at the woman wearing maid attire in front of me with a hint of annoyance on my face.

Taking note of her appearance, she seemed to be about 18 years old. Red hair cut at the length of her shoulders, her cobalt eyes evoked the brilliance of polished sapphire. Her countenance, undoubtedly fair, would have easily merited a perfect ten, were it not for the pathetic and disgraceful appearance she showed.

The taint of vulnerability clung to her, an aura of timidity that veiled her like a shroud.

A furrow etched itself upon my features as I recognized the bitter irony of my thoughts. Such disdainful contemplations were anathema to my character, a fact that reverberated within my conscience with resounding force. To witness someone stumble was typically an opportunity to extend assistance, a principle I held steadfastly. However, an inexplicable repulsion surged within me, rendering the prospect of offering aid a struggle.

Suppressing this unsettling sentiment, I rallied myself to reach out my hand, intending to convey my concern. "Are you unharmed?" I inquired, my tone frosty enough to rouse further apprehension in the young lady before me.

"Ye-Yes, Young Lord!" she stammered, attempting to regain her footing. Despite her initial reluctance, I remained resolute, my hand steadfastly extended in offering.

"I assure you, Young Lord, there's no need," she countered, yet my hand held steady, unmoved by her protestations. A cold determination emanated from me, undeterred by her resistance.

Upon finally acquiescing to my aid, her gratitude became audible, and she managed to regain her footing. Meanwhile, the revulsion that had clawed at me intensified as her fingers grazed mine during her ascent. Every fiber of my being yearned to retract my hand, to withdraw from this proximal contact, but my resolve held steadfast, a testament to my core values.

Diverting my gaze to the broken vase and the slightly dislodged wood, I felt an unfamiliar urgency. The impulse to meticulously restore order seized me, driving me to realign the wood before it could suffer further displacement. With unwavering precision, I corrected the arrangement, indifferent to the astonishment that bloomed within the maid's gaze.

Yet, the impending need to cleanse my hands overshadowed all else. In a tone bereft of warmth, I commanded, "Clean this mess," before promptly departing to wash away the unsettling residue that lingered upon my skin.

At the sink, haste that bordered on urgency compelled me to apply soap to my hands, vigorously scrubbing away any lingering trace of contact. The sensation of her fingers against mine lingered as an unwelcome intrusion, an affliction that bred a visceral queasiness within me, threatening to overpower my senses.

Astoundingly, even after the passage of five minutes, the impetus to cleanse my hands persisted unrelenting. The repulsion clung tenaciously, resisting eradication despite my relentless efforts to scour away its remnants.

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After a lapse of ten minutes, my hands were finally rid of the repugnant sensation, a small semblance of relief emerging within me.

*‹ Were this revulsion to persist, my path away from villainy may be an arduous one. ›* The weight of this thought hung heavy on my mind.

Upon further introspection, I recalled the maid's presence as a pivotal figure in the demise of this body. Although my recollection had been hindered by the surge of disgust that arose from her touch, her role as an accomplice in Mary's betrayal became evident. Her obscurity in the game narrative had led to my oversight, a truth that stirred a renewed vigilance within me.

*‹Vigilance in my surroundings shall be paramount. ›* With renewed determination, I embarked toward the dining room, familiar yet wondrous in its corporeal reality, surpassing the confines of my digital interactions.

Arriving at my destination, my gaze settled upon a man occupying the head of the table, surrounded by an array of opulent and tantalizing dishes that defied expectation.

Yet, before I could fully indulge in the sight before me, a deep voice disrupted my reverie. "What delayed your arrival?" the man queried, his tone reverberating with authority.

Abruptly, my focus shifted, and recognition dawned — the man before me was none other than the progenitor of this body, Antelmo Quiñones.