A Psychopath Reborn as a Third-rate Villain

A gentle breeze slipped through the half-open window, stirring the curtains as the first rays of morning sunlight spilled across the room.

Andras slowly opened his eyes.

For a brief moment...

He felt warmth.

Someone was holding him.

An arm rested lightly across his chest, while soft breathing brushed against his shoulder.

His first thought was Lyra.

...No.

He dismissed the idea almost immediately.

Lyra would never climb into his bed without permission.

A faint crease appeared between his brows.

Then...

He turned his head.

His pupils contracted.

”...Jane?”

She lay beside him, her long hair spread across the pillow, sleeping peacefully with one arm wrapped around his waist.

His breathing stopped for a heartbeat.

His gaze instinctively shifted toward his own body.

The slender frame of Andras Darkmoor was gone.

Instead...

He saw the familiar body he had once called his own.

Alex.

Silence filled the room.

His mind raced.

What...?

Didn’t I die?

Didn’t I transmigrate into the world of Rise of the Sword Hero?

Was all of that...

Nothing more than a dream?

Before he could gather his thoughts, Jane stirred.

Her eyelashes fluttered open, revealing sleepy eyes filled with warmth.

A gentle smile appeared on her lips.

”Good morning.”

Leaning forward, she placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

”...”

Andras remained motionless.

Jane blinked in confusion.

”Alex?”

She studied his face for a moment before her expression softened with concern.

”Did you have a bad dream?”

Her voice finally pulled him from his thoughts.

”...No.”

He answered almost instinctively.

”It was nothing.”

Jane smiled reassuringly.

”Then you should get ready.”

”You’ll be late for work.”

”...Right.”

He climbed out of bed in silence and walked toward the mirror.

The reflection staring back at him was unmistakable.

Black hair.

Dark eyes.

The ordinary face of Alex.

He slowly raised a hand, touching his own cheek as disbelief lingered in his heart.

It felt real.

Too real.

Then—

The reflection began to ripple.

Like the surface of disturbed water.

His face twisted unnaturally before melting into countless distorted fragments.

The room blurred.

Jane’s voice faded into distant echoes.

Darkness swallowed everything.

...

Andras abruptly opened his eyes.

His violet pupils immediately focused on the familiar ceiling of his bedroom inside Darkmoor Manor.

His breathing remained perfectly steady.

Without hesitation, he rose from the bed and walked toward the nearby mirror.

A young man with snow-white hair and calm violet eyes gazed back at him.

Andras Darkmoor.

Everything was exactly as it should be.

He stared at his reflection for several silent moments before quietly exhaling.

”...So it was only a dream.”

A strange dream.

It had been years since he had remembered one so vividly.

For a fleeting moment...

He could still recall the warmth of Jane’s embrace.

Then the memory quietly faded.

A gentle knock interrupted his thoughts.

”Young Master.”

Lyra’s familiar voice came from outside the door.

”You may enter.”

The door opened, and Lyra stepped inside before offering a respectful bow.

”Good morning, Young Master.”

”The carriage has been prepared.”

”You mentioned yesterday that we would be visiting Nightfall City.”

Andras gave a small nod.

”I remember.”

He picked up a fresh change of clothes before making his way toward the bathing room.

A short while later, he emerged dressed in simple yet elegant attire suitable for traveling.

Lyra waited patiently by the door.

”Shall we depart?”

A faint smile appeared on Andras’s face.

”Let’s go.”

The black carriage bearing the silver wolf crest of House Darkmoor rolled steadily through the massive gates of the ducal estate.

Escorted by several mounted knights, it followed the main road leading toward Nightfall City.

The morning was calm.

Golden sunlight stretched across endless fields, while a cool breeze carried the scent of fresh grass through the open carriage window.

Inside, Lyra sat quietly across from Andras.

Neither spoke much during the journey.

After nearly an hour, the towering walls of Nightfall City came into view.

Unlike the Imperial Capital, Nightfall possessed a quieter charm. Stone buildings lined the broad streets, merchants displayed their goods beneath colorful awnings, and the lively chatter of townsfolk blended with the rhythmic sound of horse-drawn carriages.

The moment the carriage bearing House Darkmoor’s crest entered the city, pedestrians instinctively stepped aside.

Some lowered their heads respectfully.

Others simply watched from a distance.

Before long, the carriage came to a halt near the bustling central market.

Andras stepped down first, followed closely by Lyra.

The market was filled with life.

Merchants called out to passing customers, children darted between crowded stalls, and the rich aroma of freshly baked bread mixed with the scent of roasted meat and exotic spices.

Although Andras possessed memories of the original owner...

Those memories offered little help.

The original Andras had rarely wandered through the city himself.

His attention drifted across the crowded streets before settling on a middle-aged commoner arranging vegetables outside a small stall.

Andras walked toward him.

The man looked up absentmindedly.

Then his eyes landed on the silver wolf crest embroidered upon Andras’s clothes.

His face immediately paled.

He hurriedly lowered his head.

”Y-Young Master...”

Andras spoke in his usual calm tone.

”Do you know where I can find a shop that sells Pipe-Weed?”

The commoner blinked in surprise.

”...Pipe-Weed?”

He quickly pointed toward a distant street.

”Y-Yes, Young Master.”

”Follow this road until you reach the old stone fountain. Turn left, and you’ll find a wooden shop with a dark green sign.”

”Thank you.”

”N-No... it is my honor.”

Without another word, Andras turned and continued walking.

Lyra quietly followed behind him.

Several minutes later, they arrived before a modest wooden storefront.

An old wooden sign hung above the entrance.

Moonleaf Pipe House.

A faint fragrance unlike anything sold elsewhere drifted from within.

Without hesitation, Andras pushed the door open.

A small brass bell chimed overhead.

The interior was surprisingly elegant.

Shelves crafted from polished oak displayed dozens of beautifully carved smoking pipes made from ebony, walnut, crystalwood, and other rare materials.

Glass jars filled with carefully dried Pipe-Weed lined the walls, each bearing handwritten labels describing their aroma, age, and place of origin.

Behind the counter stood an elderly shopkeeper.

The moment he recognized the crest of House Darkmoor, he straightened immediately and bowed deeply.

”Welcome, Young Master.”

”It is an honor to receive you.”

Andras gave a small nod before allowing his gaze to wander across the displayed pipes.

Most were finely crafted.

A few were true works of art.

After several moments, two caught his attention.

The first was carved from deep black ebony, its surface engraved with elegant silver vines.

The second had been fashioned from pale moonwood, polished so smoothly that it reflected the surrounding light with a gentle sheen.

”I’ll take these two.”

”An excellent choice, Young Master.”

The elderly merchant carefully wrapped both pipes before placing them inside a velvet-lined wooden case.

Andras then selected several pouches containing different varieties of premium Pipe-Weed.

After paying, he accepted the case and turned toward the exit.

Once they stepped back into the lively streets, Lyra looked curiously at the wooden case in his hands.

”So...”

”This is Pipe-Weed?”

”It is.”

She tilted her head.

”I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Andras opened the case and removed the ebony pipe.

Holding it comfortably between his fingers, he smiled faintly.

”It’s quite simple.”

He pointed toward the bowl at the end of the pipe.

”You place a small amount of dried Pipe-Weed here.”

His finger then moved along the stem.

”After lighting it, you slowly draw the smoke through the stem.”

”There’s no need to rush.”

”The flavor is meant to be enjoyed gradually.”

Lyra listened with genuine curiosity.

”And... what does it do?”

”For most people...”

”It helps them relax.”

He turned the pipe over once before returning it to its case.

”Some enjoy the aroma.”

”Others claim it helps them organize their thoughts.”

”And some simply appreciate the quiet moment that comes with smoking it.”

Lyra nodded thoughtfully.

”It sounds... rather peaceful.”

”It can be.”

A faint smile appeared on Andras’s lips.

”Though I wouldn’t recommend making a habit of it.”

Lyra couldn’t help but laugh softly.

”And yet you’re buying enough for several months.”

Andras met her teasing gaze before giving a completely serious nod.

”That only proves I’m exceptionally good at ignoring my own advice.”

For a brief moment...

Lyra simply stared at him.

Then a quiet laugh escaped her lips.

The lively sounds of Nightfall City continued around them as the two resumed their leisurely walk through the bustling marketplace.