Like A True Villain!

James shut the heavy oak door behind him, leaning back against it with a loud exhale. His chest rose and fell as he took deep breaths, trying to shake off the anger that clung to him like an annoying shadow.

The muffled laughter, clinking glasses, and upbeat music from the party still rang faintly in his ears, even though he was now safely tucked away in his family mansion, far from the chaos.

He had left halfway through the party, unable to stomach the sudden attention from the same people who had ignored or looked down on him before.

The moment they'd witnessed his strength—his brutal defeat of Trent in the so-called "friendly" contest—they had transformed into something sickening.

James frowned, tossing his jacket carelessly onto the armchair. "Hypocrites," he muttered under his breath.

These rich boys and girls, with their polished shoes and practiced charm, only wanted to cosy up to him because of his Special Grade Soul Weapon—an ability that set him apart.

They wanted a piece of him not because of who he was, but because of what he could do.

And James hated it. Hated how fake people could be, how they'd turn into bootlickers the moment they saw a chance to benefit from him.

But a small part of him understood. This was the world he lived in—one where politics and alliances mattered.

Politically, it made sense for them to curry favour with someone who could dominate the battlefield in the future.

Still, knowing that didn't make it feel any less disgusting.

James let out a long sigh, walking over to the large window in his room. The moon hung high in the night sky, its pale light spilling over the garden below.

For a moment, he felt at peace, watching the gentle swaying of the trees in the cool night breeze.

Then came the knock.

It was soft, almost hesitant, but loud enough to pull him out of his thoughts. James straightened his back and cleared his throat.

"Come in," he said, his tone calm and controlled, though his curiosity was already piqued.

The door creaked open, and Martha stepped in. Her presence was like a storm in his otherwise quiet night.

This maid, with her cascading hair and a figure straight out of a fantasy novel, wore a maid dress that clung far too tightly to her curves.

She was blushing too, her hands clutching the edge of her apron. "Young Master," she began, her voice soft but steady, "your bath has been prepared."

James's gaze flickered downward, then back up. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his expression neutral. But his brain? Oh, it was screaming.

She had a habit of wearing these skimpy maid dresses, and tonight's choice was no exception.

He nodded, his voice steady despite his racing thoughts. "Good," he said simply. Then, with a sudden rush of boldness, he added, "Come and help me undress."

Martha's blush deepened, but she nodded, stepping closer with short but obedient steps.

Minutes later, James made his way to the bathroom, wearing nothing but his underwear.

His steps were slow, deliberate, as if each one was a test of his resolve. Normally, this kind of situation would've sent him into a panic, stuttering and fumbling like an idiot.

But tonight was different.

He had read in a book from the family library that a Soul weapon often times contained clues to it's owner's true personality.

It's characteristics could be interpreted into the core values of the summoner.

If so, what was his? Was he an extreme person? Or was it deeper than that?

Extremity could mean a lot of things.

James stopped at the edge of the tub, his eyes fixed on the water. Delicate petals floated on the surface, their vibrant colours contrasting beautifully with the clear water.

The scent of lavender and rose filled the air, mixed with the faint, woody aroma of sandalwood oils.

He hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. With a quick motion, he slipped out of his underwear, the cool air sending a shiver down his spine.

As he stepped into the bath, the warm water wrapped around him like a soft, comforting blanket.

He let out a sigh of relief, leaning back against the smooth marble. For the first time that night, he felt truly relaxed.

Then, he glanced at Martha, who stood awkwardly by the side of the tub, her cheeks a deep shade of red.

Her eyes were hungrily focused on him, never leaving his body for more than a second. She was barely holding back from pouncing on him.

James didn't know whether she was in love with the previous owner of this body, nor did he care.

He was merely going to use her to satisfy his sexual urges and curiosity. In a way, it was her honor to be used by him.

"Bath me," he said, his voice firm but calm.

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she showed an expression of pure excitement. But then she nodded, stepping closer with calm steps.

This time, James wasn't going to stop halfway. He was tired of holding back, of dancing around what he wanted.

As Martha picked up a soft sponge, her hands trembling slightly, James felt a rush of determination.

All his life, he had always been cautious, too cautious, worried about crossing lines or causing trouble.

But tonight, with the warmth of the bath around him and the intoxicating scent of flowers in the air, he decided to let go.

He wanted to act like a true villain!

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The pace of the story is going to quicken in the next couple chapters. For those of you who think it is progressing too slowly, hang in there!

It's all for a reason. James was originally not a bad guy in previous life, he wouldn't instantly let go of his lawful and orderly personality he had developed over time. He was a police officer afterall!

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Power stone Goal!

20 PS - 1 Bonus chapter

50 PS - 2 Bonus chapter

100 PS (Quite an achievement as of now) - 3 Bonus chapters.