Why Am I The Villain?! Reincarnated in My Favorite Novel-Chapter 43: Wolves in Silk Suits

The bluish glow of the hologram flickered across the chrome walls of the control room, casting metallic reflections on Prince Varen’s impassive face. Seated in a sleek, minimalist chair, he stared at the translucent screen scrolling with a cascade of numbers, photos, and reports. On the other end of the connection, Stavos’s fingers danced across his holopad with surgical precision, pulling up interactive maps of Joranis’s cities. Red dots blinked, then vanished one by one.

"All mafia strongholds have been neutralized, Your Highness," Stavos announced, his voice slightly distorted by the transmission. "The Cix, Sern, Amon, Fenbel, and Draklor families... scattered, arrested, or eliminated. Our forces executed as planned. In twenty-four hours, the operation is a success."

"Your Highness." Stavos gave a slight bow, right hand over his heart. "Operation Zero is complete."

Varen didn’t respond immediately. He sat motionless, his gaze fixed on Stavos without truly seeing him.

Faces flashed across the screen: the Amon Matron, hanged in her ruined manor; the Sern family, crushed in an aerial ambush; the Cix godfather, found dead in his charred limousine.

"No major cells remain operational. We’ve swept every district, every border barrier, every hideout, inside and out."

Varen nodded slowly, a deliberate, almost mechanical motion.

"Good."

A pause. Then his voice, soft but icy, cut through the air like a blade: "It’s time to purge the nobility."

Stavos blinked. A split-second hesitation. He was used to brutal orders, but this... this was different. Something more absolute.

"...The nobility, Your Highness?" he repeated, probing for ambiguity.

The prince clasped his hands on his frosted glass desk. "The Emperor believes hereditary privileges are corroding the Empire. Too many titles, too much unearned wealth. It’s time to cleanse the upper ranks. Only those who serve Joranis will keep their place."

Stavos opened his mouth, then closed it.

"Your Highness," he said cautiously, "does the Emperor... truly desire such a purge?"

Varen tilted his head, thoughtful.

"The Emperor has spoken, Commander Stavos. The Empire of Joranis must be free of favoritism. We’ve tolerated decadent bloodlines too long, fattened by blood and privilege. Families living off centuries of power without ever earning it. My father, the Emperor, wants an Empire where merit trumps birth. Where every citizen, from the lowliest worker to the highest official, is judged by their deeds, not their name. The nobility has profited too long from a system that rewards laziness and corruption. They’re no different from the mafia. Just better dressed."

A chill ran down Stavos’s spine.

"From today," Varen continued, "only the worthy will be rewarded. The nobility, if they wish to survive, must prove themselves. Or they’ll vanish."

The commander’s throat tightened. He’d seen much in the Empire’s service: foiled plots, averted wars, silenced betrayals. But this... this was like ripping out Joranis’s roots. "And... how do you plan to proceed?" he asked, his voice quieter than intended.

"You’ll have the support of the Imperial Internal Police. High Commissioner Arlen is already briefed. I need you, Commander Stavos."

The soldier squared his shoulders. "You can count on me, Your Highness. This operation will be carried out with the same zeal."

But as he prepared to end the transmission, a doubt gnawed at him. A shadow lingering since the purge began. He narrowed his eyes slightly.

"One last thing... What about Dark Hand? They’re not like the others. Even Operation Zero couldn’t touch them."

Silence fell. Varen remained unreadable.

Then his lips parted.

"No need to rush. I’ve already tasked Commander Karras with that matter. He’ll handle it."

The name Karras made Stavos’s eyes widen for a moment.

"Very well, Your Highness."

Varen gave a slow nod, and the screen dissolved in a ripple of light.

The room fell silent.

Stavos stood alone for a moment, hands clasped behind his back. He studied the still-floating maps before him, his mind heavy.

The mafia had been the first purge.

The nobility would be next.

And after that... who?

He took a deep breath.

"Prince Varen, the Emperor won’t contain your ambition. The world itself can’t..."

---

A sharp crack broke the silence. The back door of an old cinema creaked open on rusted hinges. Pale moonlight filtered through grimy windows, casting dancing shadows on the dust-covered floor.

A figure slipped inside, black coat trailing behind.

Corwin scanned the room, raising an eyebrow at the still-lit screen. An old black-and-white film played a clumsy dance scene. The theater was empty. Well... almost.

In the front row, legs crossed and hands resting on the armrest of a torn seat, a woman watched the screen without really seeing it. Her long hair flowed like a river over her shoulders.

Corwin approached with soft steps.

"Charming spot for a secret meeting," he said, smirking. "Feels like a noir novel."

"We don’t have the luxury of picking venues anymore," she replied without turning. "The underground’s a mess. Like a beehive someone kicked."

She finally faced him, her eyes glinting with mockery.

"And you... you don’t seem too worried. The Empire’s teetering, factions are tearing each other apart... Dark Hand doesn’t care?"

Corwin shrugged, still standing, hands in his pockets.

"This chaos is exactly what we wanted. The Empire’s heading right where we need it to."

Page smiled.

"Curious... you came alone?"

"You didn’t," Corwin said, glancing around the room. "Hope you’re not paying them too much—they breathe like buffalo."

"I’m always careful," she said with a shrug. "You’re a bit too reckless."

Corwin dropped into the seat beside her.

"Dark Hand came to you."

She turned, crossing her arms.

"I did what you asked. The Volga are gone. It wasn’t easy."

"We noticed," Corwin admitted. "Nice work."

Silence settled. The film droned on, its characters kissing awkwardly.

"So?" he asked. "Why join us?"

Page met his gaze. The mockery was gone.

"Because I’ve got instincts. And my instincts tell me you’re the ones to bet on. I want in."

"The game, huh... What are we to you? Pawns?" Corwin’s tone cooled.

"Not pawns," she said, smiling. "Partners. My resources, my contacts, my... skills. All yours."

"And in return?"

"A seat at your table. And a shot at my ambitions."

Corwin studied her. Long and hard. His gaze was sharp as a blade.

"You’re a fox. Ambitious, manipulative, and way too clever for your own good."

"Exactly why you’re here, isn’t it? Because I’m all that. Because I’m worth it."

A soft laugh escaped her. She added, almost whispering: "And because I won’t betray you. Not while our interests align."

Silence fell, broken only by the projector’s clatter and the film’s muffled dialogue. Corwin watched her, stone-faced, then a slow smile spread across his face. "Your words might sway others, but you won’t fool me. I know what drives a fox like you. But you know what? We don’t care."

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh?"

"The master has plans. Big plans. But our time is short. We’ll tolerate you as long as you save us time. That’s your only value to us."

He extended his hand.

"Welcome to Dark Hand."

Page eyed his hand, then gripped it firmly.

"Hope you don’t regret this."

"If we do, you’ll be the first to know."

Their hands clasped, then Corwin stood.

"Not introducing your team?"

Page smirked. "Not yet. I like keeping my cards close. For now."

Corwin chuckled.

He turned away.

"Stay alive. If you want that seat, you’d better play straight."

"You really think the Empire will fall?" Page called.

He paused at the door he’d entered through, glancing back slightly.

"It won’t fall. It’ll change. See you in three days. Or not. Either way... enjoy the movie."

Without waiting for a reply, he vanished into the shadowed hallway. The door creaked shut behind him.

Page sat still for a moment, then glanced over her shoulder into the darkness at the back of the room.

"You can come out."