Reincarnated As A First Rate Villain: I Don't Know How To Play My Role-Chapter 46

Three days had passed since the system shutdown. In that quiet stretch of time, tension had risen like a low tide across the continent. But here, in the far western region of the Valderian Empire, nestled among the emerald waves of tall grass and rich farmland, a black carriage rolled steadily along a polished stone road. The crest of the winged lion shimmered on its sides—undeniably the mark of House Velebrandt.

Within the carriage, Lucien Caelum Velebrandt sat in silence, his gaze fixed beyond the glass pane of the window. Now taller than he had been days before, his once childish body had matured slightly overnight due to the awakening. He peered outside with a calm, almost reflective gaze. The black horses that pulled the carriage, their manes dancing like living smoke, were a rare breed exclusive to elite Velebrandt knights. The three mounted knights—each A-rank and clad in obsidian armor—rode ahead with practiced formation. Their movements were sharp and disciplined, a shield to their young lord.

Lucien’s eyes scanned the vast fields that stretched outward like a sea of green. The breeze rippled through the grain like ocean waves, brushing softly against the golden horizon. In the distance, the imposing dark walls of the Velebrandt Estate stood tall and unmoving, like a slumbering colossus.

He inhaled deeply, his breath fogging the glass for a moment. There was serenity in the landscape, yet his thoughts were restless.

"So, this is what it feels like," Lucien murmured to himself. "My mana... no, whatever this power is... it’s awake now. But what exactly is it?"

There were no clear answers. Just a low pulse in his chest. A whisper in his bones. Something ancient and unfamiliar.

Soon, the carriage slowed.

The great black iron gates loomed ahead, intricate with golden embroidery, bearing the sigil of the winged lion. At both ends, Velebrandt knights in polished ceremonial armor stood in rows. As the lead knight raised a gloved fist, the gates creaked open with measured grandeur.

"Young Master Lucien, welcome home!" one of the guards at the gate saluted with a fist to his chest. "Congratulations on your awakening, my lord!"

"All hail the future of House Velebrandt!"

Lucien blinked, momentarily stunned. Their voices were laced with genuine joy, echoing like music beneath the towering gate. From within the carriage, he tilted his head.

"...It’s just an awakening," Lucien whispered to himself. "Why is everyone acting like I’ve slain a dragon?"

But that was only the beginning.

As the carriage rolled deeper into the estate, Lucien’s eyes widened further. The streets—normally calm and tidy—were now adorned with celebratory banners in gold and crimson. Ribbons waved from rooftops. Flowers were strewn in the paths. From storefronts and balconies, people leaned out, clapping and cheering.

"Congratulations, Young Master!"

"Long live House Velebrandt!"

"So young, and already awakened! Truly a prodigy!"

Lucien pressed his back against the seat. Embarrassment painted his cheeks. He hadn’t expected any of this. The compliments made him curl inward, flustered.

Outside the carriage, Knight Rex rode with steady calm. His silver-gray hair fluttered gently under his helmet’s edge, and his keen eyes scanned the crowd. When he heard the praise being shouted toward the carriage, he allowed himself a faint nod.

(He is overwhelmed, isn’t he?) Rex mused. (Understandable. But this is what it means to be heir of House Velebrandt.)

He glanced over his shoulder at the carriage. (Whether he likes it or not, the moment he awakened... the people’s expectations doubled. No... tripled.)

Another noble couple waved from their balcony. Rex returned a respectful nod but kept his eyes watchful. (Still... I’ve trained many heirs in my time. But Lucien... he is different. There’s something in the air around him. Like a storm barely leashed.)

The carriage passed under a large archway, decorated with enchanted lanterns that flickered in sync with the rhythm of the estate’s heartbeat—an ancient enchantment rooted to the Velebrandt bloodline. The knights at each checkpoint saluted, forming a path as if welcoming a king rather than a boy.

Lucien, meanwhile, simply leaned his head against the window and sighed.

(They’re all looking at me like I’ve done something great. But all I did was awaken. That’s... normal, right? At least in this world. This place... this family... I still don’t fully understand them.)

He exhaled slowly and whispered, "Just don’t expect too much. Not yet. I still don’t even know what I’ve become."

The carriage passed a fountain where maids had gathered, throwing flower petals with giggles and smiles. One even whispered to another, "He’s going to be even more handsome than the Grand Duke, I just know it."

Lucien flushed and quickly pulled the curtains closed.

"Damn my hormones..." he groaned.

_____________________________________

The carriage finally passed through the sea of noise and celebration. Beyond the crowds and cheers, the towering walls of the Velebrandt estate faded behind them as the wheels of the carriage now rolled along a tranquil path lined with centuries-old trees. Their dense canopies filtered the golden sunlight into shifting patterns on the cobbled path, and the breeze rustled their leaves like a reverent hush after the public’s celebration.

Lucien sat inside, one leg crossed neatly over the other, though his fingers were fidgeting subtly at the edge of his tunic. The sudden quiet was deafening after the storm of the crowd, and with every turn of the wheels, the weight of what awaited him seemed to grow heavier.

Then, the carriage slowed.

Lucien looked out again. Beyond the arching treeline, nestled in the clearing like a monument of power and heritage, stood the Velebrandt mansion. Towering spires, ivory stone polished to an elegant gleam, golden lion statues perched near the stairs, and soft music playing from somewhere unseen—everything radiated the dignity of a family who had long protected the empire’s western frontier.

The carriage rolled to a halt.

Lucien quickly straightened himself and tugged on the edges of his formal attire. The black vest, embroidered subtly with golden thread in the shape of the Velebrandt winged lion sigil, clung snugly against his form. He adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves. It wasn’t fear, not exactly. But he wasn’t eager to be the center of attention either.

Just as his hand reached for the carriage door, it swung open.

"Young Master," said a soft, familiar voice.

Marie, his personal maid, stood there with a gentle smile, her shoulder-length brown hair tucked behind one ear, her brown eyes warm and patient.

"They are waiting," she said simply, her voice carrying just enough weight to remind him of what stood beyond.

Lucien inhaled quietly and gave a small nod. He stepped down from the carriage, boots landing on the polished stone with a quiet thud. His gaze rose.

There they were.

At the wide, open doors of the mansion, under the golden light of afternoon, stood his family.

Grand Duke Aldric Thorne Velebrandt towered beside the gilded doorframe. His white hair, neatly combed back, reflected a glint of sunlight. His posture was straight, military-perfect, his arms folded behind his back. His gray eyes, sharp and narrow, fixated on Lucien with unreadable emotion—a trace of surprise, a current of scrutiny, and perhaps, a glint of something harder to place.

Archduchess Seraphina Lysandra Velebrandt stood at his side, radiant in her flowing blue gown that shimmered like the skies of the capital. Her long blonde hair spilled down one shoulder, and her lips curled in a smile that was both proud and playful. Her gray eyes twinkled with mischief, the same eyes Lucien saw in the mirror.

In her arms, held gently but tightly, was five-year-old Emilien Velebrandt. His tiny head peeked over his mother’s shoulder, wide eyes full of wonder as they stared directly at his older brother.

The maids flanking the stairs straightened at attention, their uniforms crisp and hair bound perfectly. One of them, Marie, joined them silently, but not before throwing Lucien a final glance of encouragement.

Knight Rex stood a step ahead of Lucien, already engaged in low conversation with the Grand Duke and Duchess. He turned, gesturing behind him.

"There he is," Rex said. His voice was steady, deep with calm confidence. "Awakened, alive, and already showing signs of something... beyond the norm."

The Grand Duke’s gaze bore into Lucien then, and for a moment, the entire world narrowed into that single glance.

Lucien stepped forward.

Aldric Velebrandt did not speak at first. Instead, he gave his son a once-over—not of judgment, but assessment. He saw the leaner build, the steadier eyes, and the undeniable shift in presence. Lucien had always been intelligent, but now he moved with something more.

Power.

"So it is true," Aldric said at last. His voice rumbled like distant thunder. "You have awakened."

Lucien bowed. "Yes, Father."

Behind the Grand Duke, Seraphina chuckled. "You look taller," she said, her voice lilting. "And perhaps... more handsome than your father when he was your age."

Lucien flushed slightly. Emilien giggled in his mother’s arms.

"Brother looks like the elves now!" Emilien cheered, pointing.

That made some of the maids cover their mouths to hide their amusement. One or two peeked at Lucien again, stealing quick glances at his sharper jawline and the quiet confidence he now carried.

Lucien cleared his throat and tried to maintain composure. "Thank you."