Reincarnated As A First Rate Villain: I Don't Know How To Play My Role-Chapter 26

The wind that swept across the imperial courtyard was crisp and refreshing, carrying the sweet, heady scent of blooming irises from the castle gardens. The fragrance wafted through the air, mingling with the subtle hint of polished marble and the faint metallic tang of the imperial crest that adorned the carriage. As the breeze danced across the courtyard, it rustled the delicate silk banners that hung from the eaves, their intricate embroidery shimmering in the fading light. The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden streaks over the marble tiles, each slab polished to a mirror finish that reflected the vibrant hues of the setting sun. The Royal Thunder-Tiger Carriage, resplendent in its crimson and gold lacquer, awaited its passengers, its wooden panels adorned with intricate carvings of thunder tigers and auspicious clouds. The carriage's gleaming bronze fixtures seemed to glow with an inner light, as if infused with the essence of the setting sun. The sound of soft murmurs and the creaking of leather harnesses filled the air as the carriage's attendants made final preparations for departure, their movements precise and respectful in the presence of imperial grandeur. The atmosphere was alive with anticipation, the promise of a journey about to unfold beneath the watchful gaze of the imperial court.

Crafted with ancient runes etched into midnight-black wood that seemed to absorb the light around it, and fitted with sapphire-tinted glass that glowed with a soft, ethereal luminescence, the carriage practically hummed with magical power. The wood itself appeared almost alive, its dark grain shimmering like the night sky, as if the very essence of the stars had been infused into its creation. Glowing rune circuits danced faintly along its surface, tracing intricate patterns that pulsed with a gentle, blue-white light. These runes were crafted by the empire's revered Grand Arcanae, master artisans whose knowledge of the arcane was unparalleled. Each delicate carving acted as both a shield and a silencer, weaving a complex spell of protection and secrecy around the carriage's occupants. The runes seemed to vibrate with contained energy, as if the magic imbued within them was a living, breathing entity waiting to be unleashed. No outside sound could enter, no stray noise or curious ear able to pierce the veil of silence that surrounded the carriage. Conversely, no inner word would leave, every conversation, every secret, and every whispered promise safely ensconced within the carriage's magically fortified walls. The air around the carriage seemed to ripple, as if reality itself was bending to accommodate the powerful magic that had gone into its creation. The sapphire-tinted glass windows, like portals to another realm, reflected the world outside in shades of deep blue, giving the carriage an otherworldly appearance that commanded respect and inspired awe.

But the centerpiece of this magnificent vehicle was not the carriage itself—it was the beast pulling it.

The mount was a monstrous thunder-tiger, its body the size of a small cottage, with muscles rippling beneath its thick, blue fur like stormy waves beneath the surface of a turbulent sea. The fur itself shimmered in the light, each strand seemingly infused with an inner glow, and was broken by elegant white stripes that curled into shapes resembling lightning bolts, as if the very essence of the storms it was named after had been etched into its coat. Its long tail, thick and powerful, crackled faintly with visible static, sparks dancing along its length like fireflies on a summer's night, leaving behind a trail of ozone-scented air that tingled the nostrils. Its blood-red eyes, piercing and intense, stared outward with an unnerving intensity—not at the people gathered around it, but through them, as if they were mere specters, invisible and insignificant. The gaze was unnerving, making it hard to meet its eyes, yet impossible to look away. It didn't growl. It didn't roar. Instead, it exuded an aura of calm, controlled power, its very presence commanding respect and inspiring a mix of awe and fear. The thunder-tiger's breath was slow and measured, each exhalation accompanied by a low hum that vibrated through the air, making the ground tremble slightly beneath its massive paws. Despite its fearsome appearance, there was a strange, almost noble elegance to the creature, a sense of ancient power and wisdom that seemed to emanate from its very being.

It simply existed—and that was enough to suffocate most who stood nearby.

Flanking the carriage were seven imperial S-rank knights, each mounted on hellish steeds whose flaming black manes wavered like cursed fire, casting flickering shadows on the ground. The steeds' eyes glowed with golden irises, watching all with hawklike precision, their gazes piercing through the surroundings like sharp arrows. The knights themselves were imposing figures, clad in polished armor that seemed to absorb the fading light of day, their presence radiating an aura of quiet confidence and unyielding vigilance. They did not speak. They didn't need to. Their presence spoke volumes, their silence a testament to their discipline and training. Each knight's face was a mask of stoic determination, their eyes fixed intently on the surroundings, ever alert for any sign of danger.

Lucien stood near the stairs of the carriage, his hands stiff at his sides, his posture rigid with a mixture of respect and anticipation.

Sir Rutherford, the old butler with snow-white hair that gleamed like polished silver in the fading light, and a sharp tuxedo as crisp as a blade's edge, bowed slowly, his movements economical and precise. A soft, gentle smile played on his lips as he waved them off, his eyes twinkling with a deep understanding and a hint of warmth that seemed out of place in the formal setting. The contrast between the butler's aged elegance and the knights' martial prowess was striking, yet they seemed to work in perfect harmony, each playing their role with precision and dedication. As Sir Rutherford's hand descended, his gesture was like a conductor's signal, orchestrating the movements of the knights and the carriage with a subtle authority that commanded obedience.

> "May your journey be peaceful, Young Master Lucien. Lady Valeria."

Behind him, the Emperor and Empress stood tall, nodding their goodbyes, while Uncle Vale grinned wide like a wolf who had just sent two lambs on a shared journey—with one of them blissfully unaware that the other had fangs.

Lucien waved mechanically, his body on autopilot.

And then, without a word, he turned and hurried inside the carriage, ducking through the engraved silver door and immediately shuffled into the farthest corner of the plush interior seat.

The interior was just as luxurious as the outside—soft velvet cushions of midnight blue, silk curtains swaying gently, and arcane sigils gently glowing beneath their feet like ambient starlight. But Lucien wasn't admiring any of it.

He was desperately trying to vanish.

A few seconds later, Valeria's gentle voice could be heard outside, bidding the family goodbye with perfect noble charm. Then the door opened—and she entered.

Lucien did not look at her. He couldn't.

He simply stared intently at the sapphire-tinted window, praying the thunder-tiger would start galloping at light-speed and get this ride over with.

> "So cute..."

Valeria's voice was like a soft breeze, almost inaudible.

Lucien didn't turn. But she saw his ears twitch.

She sat right next to him, her presence suddenly filling the space. Of all the room available in the carriage, she chose to sit beside him, her decision sending a flutter in his chest. Their shoulders grazed with each bump of the carriage, the gentle touch sending a spark of awareness through him. Her gown gave off the faint scent of lavender and silk polish, a soft, calming aroma that mingled with her own sweet fragrance. Her long blond hair spilled just slightly across Lucien's arm, the strands tickling his skin like feathers. As the carriage swayed, her hair brushed against his sleeve, leaving behind a trail of subtle shimmers in the fading light. The soft pressure of her shoulder against his was almost unnoticeable, yet it seemed to fill his entire awareness. Every jolt of the carriage brought them closer, their bodies touching lightly, sending tiny sparks of electricity through him.

He swallowed.

The carriage moved—smoothly and almost soundlessly, the thunder-tiger's steps making the world blur beyond the tinted windows.

Minutes passed in silence.

But the air was thick. Embarrassment. Anxiety. Maybe a hint of something else too.

Then Valeria turned slightly toward him, her tone gentle.

> "Hey, Lucien."

Lucien flinched.

He didn't answer, but the cold sweat dripping down his neck made his response loud enough.

Valeria's voice softened even more.

> "I... I want to apologize."

Lucien blinked. That... was not what he expected.

> "I didn't mean to get so close to you back at the castle," she continued. "I got excited, since that was the first time we actually meet each other. And maybe I... overdid it."

Lucien's gaze finally shifted from the window to the floor. He didn't trust himself to speak. Not yet.

> "You're still growing," she said, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. "Boys at your age... sometimes can't control themselves. It's not your fault."

Lucien slowly turned his head to look at her, eyes wide in disbelief.

> "I-I should be the one apologizing," he blurted. "I... I shouldn't have acted like that. I couldn't control myself. It was disgraceful."

His cheeks were red now. His voice shaky.

Valeria blinked, surprised by his honesty. She smiled faintly.

> "No, really. I should've known better."

> "No, I should've known better," Lucien insisted. "I'm the one who—who acted like I saw a succubus or something! I'm sorry. I really am."

> "Well, then I'm saying it more! I'm sorry-sorry. Double sorry. Besides I was the one who... sort of... tackled you against the door."

> "Excuse me?! You slammed me against the door?!"

Lucien's face went blank. A realization hit him like a brick.

> "Wait... that was you? I—I thought that was a ghost or something! I didn't even look! I thought I was going to die because of my nosebleeding!"

Valeria burst into a short, elegant laugh, covering her mouth with a gloved hand.

> "You really are something else, Lucien."

He groaned and looked away again, feeling the guilt burn hotter in his chest. But beneath the embarrassment, there was something else. A deeper truth that Lucien had yet to voice.

Inwardly, he sighed.

He wasn't just a young man awkwardly dealing with hormones. He was a reincarnator, a beast in disguise, someone waiting for the right moment to awaken powers beyond comprehension. He had principles—even if his body betrayed him. No matter how stunning Valeria was, no matter how close she sat, no matter how much his instincts stirred—

> Family is a line I'll never cross.

He would not show the full extent of what lingered beneath the surface. Not until he was strong enough to control it—to dominate it.

Still, in this moment, the apologies continued—muffled, awkward, sincere.

In the end, it was clear that Lucien bore the heavier guilt.

And perhaps that was why, when Valeria finally gave a small sigh and leaned slightly back into her seat, her expression softened once more.

> "You're so serious. Maybe too serious."

Lucien didn't respond.

But he smiled faintly... for just a moment.

The road ahead still stretched long, and so did the journey back to the vacant Velebrandt estate mansion. But at the very least, the ice had begun to crack. And the guilt had begun to fade.