I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain

The group had been busy since early morning. Even though they took their time finishing their preparations, Ian was the first to leave the room. Unlike Thesaya and the others, who had to take care of the main character, Ian, acting as the de facto leader, maintained his usual routine.

He was not weighed down by armor or weapons; instead, he wore a simple Empire-style gray uniform provided by the servants, along with light leather boots and thin cloth gloves. Accustomed to the weight of armor, he felt almost weightless in his current attire.

"Young master! Young master! Please wake up!"

As Ian descended the stairs, he was greeted by Jorah’s urgent voice. The basilisk carcass was no longer in sight in front of the annex, indicating that the disassembly had begun the previous night. Instead, soldiers and servants lay around, snoring drunkenly. Among them was Obell, whom Jorah was vigorously shaking awake.

Ian, leaning against the wall near the entrance, mused inwardly, Is this a typical scene in the West?

"It’s already late! I said we’re late!"

"...!" Finally, Obell’s eyes flew open. He briefly locked eyes with Ian from across the room.

Seeing Ian’s attire, Obell leaped up in a hurry.

"You should have woken me up earlier!"

"Did I say that...?"

"Hurry up and change your clothes. And get rid of the alcohol smell."

"Sir, Sir Ivan! Please ask Lady Aynas to wait a moment if he comes out! I beg you!" Obell, about to dash off, paused, took something from his pocket, handed it to Jorah, whispered a few words, and then hurried away.

Jorah crossed the manor and approached Ian.

"You’re working hard from the morning."

"It’s routine. He couldn’t do this when the Count was healthy. Now, he’s like a runaway colt."

Jorah shook his head and extended his hand to Ian, placing a small pouch in it.

"Lord Westwood asked me to give this to you. He’s glad he can keep his promise."

Ian immediately checked the contents of the pouch. Inside was a raw, green-hued gemstone. Reading the information window only he could see, Ian’s lips curled into a slight smile.

"Excellent."

It was the essence bead of the basilisk. Though unrefined and with low amplification power, it had additional attribute modifiers and a high density of contained magic. Properly processed, it would become a top-grade essence bead.

"I’m glad you’re satisfied." As Jorah bowed, footsteps echoed from the stairs.

It was Philip and Mev. Like Ian, they were dressed lightly and neatly, a departure from their usual gear. Jorah’s eyes widened at their appearance.

"A female knight...?" His reaction was understandable.

Without her full plate armor, Mev’s white skin, green eyes, and short red hair were fully visible. The men’s uniform of pants and a tunic, combined with a scar on her chin, gave her a sharp, distinct look.

"Is that really such a surprise?" Ian asked casually.

Jorah, who had been opening his mouth hastily, bowed his head.

"No, it’s not."

Philip and Mev exchanged a nod with Jorah and stood beside Ian. After Charlotte, and Thesaya descended the stairs.

"...." Jorah’s once-closed mouth opened again. The sight of the beastman with a mane draped in a cloak, alongside the silver-haired elf, must have seemed surreal.

Thesaya, lightly made-up with a few strands of her hair braided and hanging down, looked even more graceful and noble than usual. Her dress, with a hem slightly trailing on the ground and devoid of any decorations, did nothing to diminish her aura. A flower-shaped silver brooch glittered on the collar of her dress.

Startled, Jorah bent his waist, and Thesaya displayed a faint smile on her lips.

"Nice to meet you, Jorah."

"G-good morning, my lady. Did you sleep well?"

While Ian recalled the warlike night before, Thesaya nodded leisurely.

"Thanks to you. But, where is the lord..."

"He will be here soon. There was a slight... scheduling error." Jorah said, sending a look of plea to Ian.

Ian stifled a laugh and turned to Thesaya.

"He asked to wait a moment."

"Really...? That’s not difficult, is it, Jorah?" Thesaya added, glancing at Jorah and slightly tilting her chin.

"While we wait, could you tell us a story?"

"What kind of story..."

"Anything. Maybe something about the Count whom we will meet soon."

After hesitating for a moment, Jorah cautiously opened his mouth. "The Count is an excellent person who takes the initiative in difficult tasks. He has a fiery and eccentric personality, but everyone respects even those aspects. After the Countess passed away due to illness, those aspects became a bit more pronounced..."

After a brief clearing of his throat, he quickly continued, "Recently, he has been in poor health and spends almost all his time at the mansion. This has made him somewhat obsessive and prone to distractions, but he will recover soon."

He must have used the most gentle words possible

While Philip exchanged a meaningful glance with Mev and Ian, Thesaya added, "Does he suffer from a chronic illness? Or..."

"Oh, do not worry. It’s not contagious. It’s the aftereffects of working hard without sparing himself in his youth. Just to let you know in advance, even if he is somewhat eccentric and rude, he is not inherently evil, so please do not misunderstand... Oh."

Jorah, hesitating as he continued speaking, straightened up.

"There he comes."

The group’s gaze shifted. Obell approached hurriedly in a neat uniform that did not match his urgent steps. Stopping soon, he panted and bowed awkwardly.

"I apologize for my rudeness, my lady."

"It’s alright. Thanks to you, we’ve heard an interesting story from Jorah here." Thesaya responded with a light nod.

Jorah exchanged a look of relief with her, albeit briefly. Obell, who seemed momentarily surprised by Mev and Charlotte, cleared his throat and turned around.

"Then, shall we go, Jorah?"

"Yes, I will lead the way," said Jorah, adding "This way," as he took the lead.

Thesaya and Charlotte followed behind.

"At least one thing is certain," Philip whispered from behind Ian and Mev as they walked side by side.

"It’s clear those two really know nothing."

Neither Ian nor Mev responded.

***

The Count’s mansion stood at the deepest part of the estate, behind an additional wall. It was a wide, two-story mansion, modest by the standards of the Empire’s great nobles. Even so, the sight of soldiers with spears and shields stationed throughout the garden was notable.

"Don’t mind them. Father is always like this," Obell said with an awkward smile.

It seemed he was embarrassed about disarming Ian’s group while keeping their own soldiers armed and on standby. However, none of them were concerned. They all possessed the skills to disarm and eliminate the soldiers if necessary, even Philip.

When they reached the building, a middle-aged man who appeared to be the head servant came out to greet them. He had gray hair and a stylish beard but a rather unhealthy complexion.

"Where is my father?"

"He is waiting. Please follow me."

The man greeted Obell and Thesaya politely and led the group to the second-floor banquet hall. Armed soldiers were stationed throughout the mansion, but Ian was focused on something else. Amid the stale air of the mansion, he faintly sensed traces of corrupted magic. Though almost imperceptible, it was undoubtedly a sign of dark magic or curses.

Soon, a middle-aged knight in plate armor, standing before the banquet hall’s large doors, bowed to Obell.

Obell, stopping in front of him, said, "These are my guests, Sir Aurel. Your preparations are a bit excessive."

"I am merely doing my duty, my lord."

"Then kindly withdraw. My father’s temper can be high, and having eavesdroppers would only embarrass our guests."

"But..."

"They are my guests. I will take responsibility."

"...Very well." Sir Aurel gestured for the soldiers to withdraw as the head servant opened the doors.

The spacious hall revealed itself. It was clear this room was not solely for banquets. A few chairs were arranged in one direction with a small dais at the end. On a long, side-facing chair atop the dais sat the master of the house, Count Westwood.

Following Thesaya into the hall, Ian carefully observed the Count. His white hair, gaunt face, and pale brown eyes, along with numerous age spots, made it clear he was in poor health. The entire room smelled of death, and the faint traces of curses lingered.

"...." Ian’s eyes darkened as he confirmed the Count was alone in the hall.

"Are you Lord Aynas?" the Count finally spoke. Despite his appearance, his voice was surprisingly strong. The head servant moved to stand beside the dais, while Obell and Jorah positioned themselves opposite.

Naturally, Thesaya took the center of the room. With Ian standing behind her to the left, the rest of the group lined up.

Stepping forward, Charlotte announced, "Presenting Lady Tensia Aynas, seeker of endless knowledge and youngest daughter of the Water of Life. She has risen anew after receiving the baptism of death and is the youngest elder of her clan."

Thesaya, standing tall, slightly raised her chin and looked at the Count.

As he rose from his seat, the head servant stepped forward, "Devotee of Lu Solar and blessed by Della Lu, appointed guardian of the West by the Grand Emperor, pioneer of the black earth, and rightful ruler of all Drenorov: the Muddy Noble, Count Morgan Westwood."

Thesaya nodded and finally spoke, bending her knees slightly, "Thank you for your hospitality, Count. Thanks to you, we had a hearty meal and slept warmly and comfortably."

"I have heard of the House of Aynas."

The Count’s response was not an acknowledgment of her thanks.

"They are known as exceptional warriors among the fairy clans. During times of war, they never passed up a fight against corrupted foes. They are also said to be as arrogant as they are skilled, looking down even on humans."

Obell turned sharply to look at the Count.

A more notorious family than I thought.

Ian thought of Findrel Aynas as he observed the Count. This had likely always been his method. He didn’t hesitate to rudely provoke others to achieve his desired outcome. At the same time, it probably served as a tool to conceal his own unease.

Whether this was due to his illness, the darkening sky, the visit of the fairy group at this time, or his fear of his secret being exposed, was unclear. Regardless, his rudeness remained within expected bounds.

Thesaya smiled calmly, "Rumors tend to be exaggerated. Although, I won’t deny all of it."

"I mentioned it because I didn’t see any fairies among your group. Has your family’s policy changed?"

"These are chaotic times. Our house’s hands are always short, so the elders pursue their own ways. As for me, as you can see, I pursue diversity."

"Diversity, indeed...." The Count chuckled quietly.

Seated again, he looked down at Thesaya. "So, what brings you to the West with such a diverse group during these turbulent times?"

"Father...!" Obell whispered in dismay. "These people are my benefactors and guests. This is not an interrogation—"

"The West has always been human territory, with no connection to fairies. It’s only natural to be curious when a noble elder graces us with their presence. Unless, of course, there is a reason you cannot share?" The Count concluded without even glancing at him.

Thesaya nodded leisurely. "There is no reason I cannot share. But since I have already answered several of your questions, it seems only fair that you answer some of mine first."

"Fairness, you say...."

The Count repeated the word with a short laugh, nodding without losing the smile on his face.

"Very well. Ask away."

"Were you aware that a plague is spreading in the city?"

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