A Psychopath Reborn as a Third-rate Villain

Morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of Andras’s chamber, casting long golden streaks across the polished wooden floor.

The estate was quieter than usual.

Outside, birdsong drifted through the gardens as a gentle breeze stirred the curtains.

Andras slowly opened his eyes.

His violet gaze remained calm as he stared at the ceiling for a brief moment before rising from the bed.

Without a word, he walked toward the adjoining bathroom.

Warm water washed away the lingering fatigue left behind by yesterday’s cultivation. The breakthrough to the Mid Stage of the Third Circle had left his body refreshed rather than exhausted, and he could already feel the smoother circulation of mana flowing through his Mana circuits.

A short while later, he stepped out of the bathroom.

Lyra was already waiting inside the room.

Folded neatly across her arms was the set of clothes that had arrived from the tailor the previous evening.

Seeing him emerge, she approached him.

”Young Master,” she said softly, ”the Duchess asked me to inform you that Lady Seraphina Valebright is expected to arrive today.”

Andras nodded.

”I know.”

Lyra carefully helped him into his new attire.

The black noble coat fit him perfectly, its silver embroidery tracing elegant patterns along the cuffs and collar. Beneath it rested a crisp white shirt fastened with polished silver buttons, while a deep violet cravat matched the color of his eyes. Dark trousers and finely crafted leather boots completed the outfit, giving him the appearance expected of the heir to one of the Empire’s Great Ducal Houses.

Once everything was in place, Lyra stepped back to admire her work.

A hint of amazement flashed across her face.

His snow-white hair framed a composed face devoid of unnecessary emotion.

His posture was straight.

His movements were measured.

He looked like someone born to command.

Andras glanced at his reflection in the mirror.

The tailor had done an excellent job.

The clothes neither appeared overly extravagant nor plain.

Simple elegance.

Appropriate for today’s occasion.

After adjusting the cuffs of his coat, he turned toward Lyra.

”Where is Mother?”

”The Duchess is currently in her study, Young Master.”

”I see.”

Without another word, Andras left his room.

The corridors of Darkmoor Manor were unusually lively.

Servants moved briskly from one task to another, making final preparations for the arrival of House Valebright’s delegation.

Fresh flowers decorated the hallways.

The polished marble floors reflected the morning light.

Every detail of the estate reflected the dignity of House Darkmoor.

Andras walked calmly through the corridors until he arrived before the study.

He knocked lightly.

”Come in.”

Pushing open the door, he stepped inside.

Evelyne sat behind a polished mahogany desk.

Stacks of documents rested neatly before her, while a silver quill danced gracefully across parchment beneath her elegant hand.

She looked up as he entered.

A gentle smile appeared on her face.

”Good morning, Andras.”

”Good morning, Mother.”

He approached the desk, his gaze briefly falling upon the letter she was writing.

”What are you working on?”

Evelyne placed the quill aside.

”I’m writing to the production company responsible for Portrait of the Forgotten Moon.”

Her smile deepened slightly.

”I’ve decided to entrust them with producing The Dreamweaver’s Labyrinth.”

”And since your script is already complete, I’d rather begin preparations as soon as possible.”

Andras gave a small nod.

”A sensible decision.”

”They already possess experience in producing moving picture plays.”

”Exactly.”

”They have the actors, the directors, and the equipment required.”

Before either of them could continue, a knock echoed through the study.

”May I enter, Duchess?”

”You may.”

The door opened.

A dignified middle-aged woman stepped inside, dressed in the refined black-and-white uniform reserved for the head maid of House Darkmoor.

Her silver-streaked brown hair was tied neatly behind her head, and every movement reflected years of impeccable discipline.

This was Margaret, the head maid who had served House Darkmoor for over twenty years.

Upon noticing Andras, she bowed respectfully.

”Good morning, Young Master.”

Andras acknowledged her greeting with a slight nod.

Margaret then turned toward Evelyne.

”Duchess.”

”The guests from House Valebright have arrived.”

”They are waiting at the front gate.”

Evelyne immediately rose from her chair.

”They’ve arrived earlier than expected.”

She glanced toward Andras.

”Come.”

”It wouldn’t be appropriate to keep our guests waiting.”

”Of course.”

The three of them left the study together.

Evelyne walked at the front with her usual graceful elegance.

Andras followed beside her.

Margaret maintained a respectful distance behind them.

The atmosphere throughout the estate had subtly changed.

Servants stood neatly along both sides of the corridor.

Knights remained stationed near every entrance.

Everything had been prepared to receive one of the Empire’s Great Ducal Houses.

After several minutes, they arrived before the massive front gates of Darkmoor Manor.

The iron gates slowly swung open.

Waiting outside was an imposing carriage adorned with silver engravings and the proud crest of House Valebright—a pair of radiant wings embracing a blooming white lily.

Several elite knights stood guard around it.

The carriage door opened.

A gloved hand emerged first.

Moments later—

A young woman stepped gracefully onto the stone pathway.

Time itself seemed to slow.

Her long silver-blonde hair flowed like moonlight, cascading effortlessly to her waist, each strand shimmering beneath the morning sun. Clear sapphire eyes, tranquil yet profound, surveyed her surroundings with quiet intelligence, as though nothing in the world could easily escape her notice.

Her features were breathtaking.

Delicate yet flawless.

Elegant without appearing fragile.

She possessed the kind of beauty that did not demand attention—

It simply commanded it.

She wore a pristine white noble dress tailored from the finest silk, embroidered with intricate silver threads that resembled blooming lilies beneath moonlight. A sapphire pendant rested gently against her collarbone, while a matching silver bracelet adorned her slender wrist. White gloves concealed her hands, and a light ceremonial cloak bearing House Valebright’s crest flowed softly behind her with every step.

There was no arrogance in her bearing.

Only quiet dignity.

The composure of someone raised among the highest nobility of the Empire.

As her sapphire eyes lifted...

They met Andras’s violet gaze.

For a fleeting instant—

Neither of them spoke.

Two heirs.

Two noble houses.

One engagement that had existed long before either of them had a choice.

And thus...

Their first meeting truly began.