Villain Transmigration: Author Transformation

'This can't be…'

The Auction had come to an end, and with people slowly moving out of the hall, Nathalie still sat quietly, gripping the hem of her dress as she couldn't get over what happened recently.

Since then, Athan had dominated the event. Everything that was for sale onwards, he bought them all regardless.

Even the slave, and the remaining 'Hymn Conch' that was in there, he got them all.

Aside from being too broke to get them now, she wondered if there was another way to salvage the mess. Her stares went straight to the floor and wallowed from the loss.

She never had this much humiliation firsthand, even before she became the villainess of her own world. 

Stubborn and competitive, that was what she was...

Yet right away, she lost in that regard; standing right back up had never been so hard.

"My Lady…" Keith mumbled groggily; out of instinct, his hand reached her frail back, but he started to hesitate when she looked at him, and tears fell at the same time.

'Oh no…' She grabbed the handkerchief inside one of the hidden pockets of her dress and lightly tapped on below her now sullen eyes. For as long as she knew, it was the first time he saw her cry.

All this time, Mystique was never the one to show her fragility; with tears and all—sometimes she used it to manipulate people, like a classic starlet from superb acting prowess.

Today, however, she was capable of being this vulnerable.

After which, she pondered while fanning herself, 'I can't breakdown—Gosh! This is so embarrassing, not in front of my crush—Oh no! My make-up!' 

From her clutch, she grabbed a handheld mirror to check her face. A low gasp escaped her lips when her eyes went a little swollen. In which she picked up a concealer and a clear mascara to finish with a stunning look.

On the other side was Keith, who looked too worried about what she wanted to do onwards but got amused with how he glanced at the mysterious items she had.

"Your Grace! That's dangerous!" he breathed, leaning closer to her. "Women suffered and died from that monstrosity in the name of beauty!"

Nathalie stared at him when he realized that the cosmetics back in the day were full of mercury and lead. But this one was different, for she had it with her as she transmigrated.

Even as an engineer—chemical discipline at that—it was never a problem for her to mass-produce a product she loved to create, let alone make one.

[I know what you're worried about, Keith.] Her eyes scanned every angle of her face. [I concocted this myself in my chamber with the ingredients plucked in our orchard. Did you forget who I am?]

"I—No..."

Mystique wasn't a talented, genius witch for no reason; she concocted many creations, which only benefitted her the most and disaster for the rest.

[Good.]

'There we go, I can't get too ugly. I need to be drop-dead gorgeous.' Nathalie looked from left to right, humming, 'Ugh! So beautiful I could see the wrinkles I don't have—!'

She almost choked as she subconsciously delved deep into admiring herself; this part needed to go away—remnants of Mystique.

"My lady is not only beautiful but wise." He then gave a curtsy. "I'm honored to serve you for as long as I live."

It made her mind cluttered with the oozing, gushing feeling that a little more, and she would squeal from his sweet remarks. Her head averted away from him.

[... It's alright, and I'm okay now… This is nothing big.] 

Although the moment between them got interrupted when Mark announced to gather around the guests of those who had yet to take their prized possessions with them.

It was time for them to stand and reassured Keith, whose fangs shown, and their eyes glinted as though he was ready to tear someone apart with a light tap on his shoulder.

[This is a battlefield: he may have won the battle, but I will be the one to slay the war.] 

Alas, she stood amidst her great burden and took off the hood. [Let's go.]

'I didn't dress up beautifully so as not to mesmerize them; I. Will. Make. Them. Eat. This.' 

The hallway was rather quiet compared to the first time she entered; the silence loomed and fared along with the frigid breeze that brushed past her.

To the left was the archway that welcomed the grand staircase, a path towards the center of the stage—which she planned to strut as her runway.

Soon as Nathalie got closer to them, she then placed the cloak on her pouch and to her clutch; the same went for Keith, and it was time to flaunt their outfit.

The gold embellishments, shimmering, on the white-gloved hand of hers, reached for him to help her.

With more and more somehow found their way to the exit, the thuds and chatters became muffled and distant. 

The loud and enthused cheers that once filled the hall became empty yet serene.

Except other than the slow clacks that echoed in their ears, it was simply a head-turner as the nobles gathered close to the stage, they took a glance behind them, and they couldn't take their eyes off of her.

Athan somehow got his breath taken away, so as Sylvester, who couldn't help but emerged the grumpy glare when it came to her. 

Even Nathalie scoffed at all the men—bachelor or not—brimmed with lusts while the women had eyed her with jealousy and contempt. 

But out of all of them, she had a hard time reading Athan, with his eyes remaining calm and unbothered.

She was stunning, sparkly, and still stole the show with a grand appearance. Countless sea of stars never been that shinier than the sun during daytime, but she made it possible.

"Thank you," Nathalie mouthed as she looked at Keith.

"It's an honor and a pleasure, My Lady."

The tulle went all flowy and bouncy with every step she took, swaying with the voluptuous curves she already had. 

Closer and closer, their eyes went up and down, unable to detach themselves from the risque performance she had put on for them.

Keith cleared his throat, snapping them out of their stupor. "Is it finally our time?" He then raised the placard.