Chapter No.1 Transmigration!

[Damien Nacht's POV]

Gasp!

My chest rose and fell in rapid, uneven breaths. Cold sweat clung to my skin.

I wasn't dead.

I wasn't in that alley.

I wasn't... me.

The suffocating weight of pain, the scent of rain-soaked asphalt and blood—it was gone. In its place was something else entirely. A strange, alien sensation. My body felt different, stronger, yet eerily unfamiliar.

I tried to move, only to feel the sharp sting of exhaustion locking my muscles in place.

Where the hell was I?

I forced my eyes open. A canopy of dark silk drapes stretched above me, shifting slightly with the breeze. The bed beneath me was absurdly soft, far too luxurious for a man who had just died in a filthy back alley. The air smelled rich—lavender, burning wood, and something faintly metallic.

I sat up abruptly, my breathing still ragged. My hand reached for my side, expecting to find a stab wound, a bullet hole—something. But there was nothing. Not even a scar. My body was whole.

And it wasn't mine.

A mirror stood across the room, catching the flickering glow of candlelight. Hesitant, I swung my legs over the bed, ignoring the disorienting lightness of my movements, and stumbled toward it.

The face staring back at me wasn't mine.

Gone was the rough, scarred visage of a man who had lived a life of crime and bloodshed. Instead, the mirror reflected a young man with striking, almost ethereal features. Sharp jawline, pale skin, and piercing royal purple eyes that glowed faintly under the dim candlelight. His—no, my—hair was snow-white like frost, cascading down to my shoulders in silky waves. The longer I stared, the more unsettling it became.

This face… it belonged to Damien Nacht, the infamous villain of 'The Hero is Legendary Impotent'. A name that sent shivers down the spines of nobles and commoners alike. A name that was destined for a gruesome fate at the hands of the story's protagonist.

My stomach twisted.

I had read this story before.

I knew exactly who Damien Nacht was.

And I knew that in just a few years, he was fated to die. Brutally. Humiliatingly. Torn apart by the so-called hero and his ever-growing band of righteous allies.

A bitter chuckle escaped my lips. "Of course. Of all people, I had to become him."

I turned my hands over, examining the smooth, unblemished skin. No callouses, no scars. It felt so foreign, yet undeniably real. My heart pounded in my chest—steady, strong, and undeniably alive.

The weight of my new reality crashed down on me like a collapsing building.

I had been given a second chance. A fresh start in a world of magic, monsters, and bloodthirsty ambition. But this wasn't some fairytale where I could leisurely explore my new life.

I was Damien Nacht.

The villain doomed to die.

Unless… I changed my fate.

I took a deep breath, staring into my own—no, his—hauntingly beautiful yet sinister reflection.

"If fate wants me dead…" A smirk tugged at my lips, sharp and cold.

"Then fate can go to hell."

And so, my battle to defy destiny began.

****

Knock! Knock!

"Mm... Young master, lunch is ready... c-can I come i-in?" A rhythmic knocking sound followed by an equally meek voice echoed from the other side of the ornate wooden door.

I recognized that voice instantly—Sophia, Damien Nacht's personal maid. If my memory of the novel served me right, she was one of the few people in the Nacht estate who genuinely feared Damien rather than admired or sought to manipulate him. The original Damien often lashed out at her, treating her as nothing more than a disposable servant.

But that wouldn't do. Not for me. If I wanted to change my fate, I couldn't afford to make enemies out of those who could become allies.

I cleared my throat, testing my voice. It was smooth, rich, with an effortless air of command. "Come in."

The door creaked open hesitantly, revealing a girl with trembling hands, dressed in the traditional black-and-white uniform of the Nacht estate's servants. She kept her head lowered, refusing to meet my gaze.

"I-I've brought your meal, young master." She stepped inside, pushing a silver cart laden with food. The aroma of roasted meat, freshly baked bread, and spiced wine filled the air. My stomach twisted with hunger—I hadn't realized how starved I was.

But first, I needed to reassure her.

"Thank you, Sophia."

She froze. Her fingers tightened around the cart's handle, knuckles turning white. Her head shot up in shock, and for the first time, her wide brown eyes met mine.

"...W-What?" she whispered, as if she had misheard.

I fought the urge to sigh. Was Damien really that much of a bastard? Of course, he was. But I wasn't him.

"You heard me." I gestured to the cart. "The food smells great."

Sophia flinched, as if expecting a slap or a cruel remark. When none came, she cautiously placed the dishes on the small dining table beside the bed.

I watched her closely. If I played this wrong, she'd assume I was plotting something. A sudden change in personality would raise suspicions. I needed to ease her into the idea that the 'Damien Nacht' she knew had changed.

I picked up the silverware and took a bite of the roasted meat. Juicy, tender, perfectly seasoned—it was leagues above the stale bread and instant ramen of my old world. A pleased hum left my lips before I could stop it.

Sophia, still standing stiffly by the cart, looked like she was witnessing the end of the world.

"Is there a problem?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral.

She shook her head frantically, bowing. "N-No, young master! Please enjoy your meal!"

I sighed, setting down the fork. "Sophia."

She flinched again. Damn, how badly had the original Damien traumatized her?

"I won't bite," I said, a hint of amusement creeping into my voice. "Relax."

Her eyes flickered with hesitation before she nodded. "Y-Yes, young master."

Sigh~

I looked at her taking in her beautiful form with a neutral expression. She was young, around my age, with soft chestnut-brown hair tied neatly in a bun. Her features were delicate, with warm brown eyes that darted between the floor and me, never staying in one place too long. Even under the simple uniform, I could tell she had an air of grace—one that had likely been dulled by years of servitude under the original Damien.

If I were to survive in this world, I needed allies.

Sophia could be one of them.

But I had to be careful. Sudden kindness from someone who had been cruel all their life was often more terrifying than the cruelty itself.

I leaned back in my chair, letting the moment stretch. The flickering candlelight cast shadows along the walls, the air thick with tension.

"Tell me, Sophia," I finally spoke, my voice calm but firm. "What do you think of me?"

Her breath hitched. She visibly paled. "I-I..."

I tilted my head, watching her squirm.

The old Damien would've demanded nothing less than reverence. He would have punished hesitation.

But I wasn't him.

"You may speak freely," I added, voice softer this time. "I won't punish you."

Sophia swallowed. Her fingers clutched at the hem of her apron. "You... You are the young master of House Nacht," she said carefully.

A diplomatic answer. Safe.

I chuckled, shaking my head. "That's not what I asked."

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. She was struggling. Fighting between fear and obedience.

I let out a slow sigh. "Very well. I won't press you further today." I took another bite of my meal, savouring the rich flavour before glancing back at her. "You may go."

Sophia hesitated, looking at me as if I had grown a second head. But after a beat, she quickly bowed and hurried toward the door.

Just as she reached it, I called out, "Sophia."

She froze.

"...Yes, young master?"

I turned my gaze to the flickering candle on the table, watching the flame dance. "Tomorrow, when you bring my breakfast, stay a while. I'd like to talk."

Her grip on the doorknob tightened, but after a pause, she gave a small nod.

"As you wish, young master."

With that, she left, closing the door behind her.

I exhaled, leaning back in my chair, fingers tapping against the table.

That went... better than expected.

It would take time, but I would change my fate.

One step at a time.

Since we are on the topic some might wonder why I am giving such importance to an 'ordinary' maid.

I smirked, fingers tapping idly against the wooden table. Ordinary? Far from it.

In the novel, Sophia was more than just a timid servant in the Nacht estate. She had a hidden past—one that even the original Damien had been too blind to notice. Born into a fallen noble family and an unawakened class of 'Weeping Saintess', she was a diamond in the rough. A diamond that the protagonist of the novel, Arthur Kingslayer, eventually polished into one of his most trusted allies.

In the original timeline, Sophia had been pushed to her limits by Damien's cruelty, and when she finally snapped, she fled the Nacht estate—straight into the arms of the hero. And with her came crucial inside information about House Nacht's inner workings, their weaknesses, and Damien's own vulnerabilities.

That betrayal had been the first real crack in Damien's downfall.

But what if that never happened?

What if, instead of pushing her away, I pulled her closer?

A slow, satisfied smirk curved my lips.

If I could gain Sophia's loyalty before she ever considered turning to Arthur Kingslayer, I would effectively steal one of his future assets. More than that, she had immense potential—potential the hero had nurtured in the original story. If I played my cards right, I could do the same.

But trust wasn't built in a day.

I needed to be careful, calculated. Too much kindness too soon would be suspicious. Instead, I would slowly shift my behavior, allowing her to believe that something had changed but not enough to make her panic. If she thought my cruelty had merely dulled rather than disappeared, she'd be cautious but not outright fearful.

A game of patience and precision.

I liked that.

I finished my meal in silence, the fire crackling in the background, casting long shadows across the room. The warmth of the meal settled in my stomach, a strange comfort in this unfamiliar world.

Then, as I reached for my wine glass, a notification blinked into existence in the corner of my vision.

⟪ Villainous Fate System Activated ⟫

I nearly choked on my drink.

"The hell?"

Words flickered into being before me, cold and mechanical, yet somehow smug, as if the universe itself was mocking me.

⟪ Welcome, Damien Nacht. You have been chosen as the host of the Villainous Fate System. ⟫

⟪ As the primary antagonist of this world, your destiny is to be crushed by the hero. ⟫

⟪ But fate is not absolute. Defy it, and you shall be rewarded. Fail, and death awaits. ⟫

My grip tightened around the glass.

A system? Like some kind of game?

The text continued.

⟪ Initial Evaluation: F-Rank Villain ⟫

⟪ Survival Probability: 3% ⟫

⟪ Recommended Course of Action: Die. ⟫

I scoffed. "How encouraging."

More lines appeared, ignoring my sarcasm.

⟪ First Mission: Defy Fate ⟫

⟪ Objective: Prevent Sophia Weismann from betraying you. ⟫

⟪ Reward: +5 Villain Points, Skill: [Analyze] ⟫

⟪ Penalty for Failure: Permanent Fate Mark (Easier Detection by the Hero) ⟫

I exhaled sharply.

So, it was do or die.

A cruel grin spread across my face.

"Then let's play, shall we?"

.

..

...

[To Be Continued]

***

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