Villain Transmigration: Author Transformation

Nathalie was in a chamber, and only through the window beamed a silver gleam of moonlight beaming towards the large bed.

Only the bed graced, and the surroundings were pitch-darkness.

Within the velvety cream quilt was there she laid down. 

Calm and peaceful visage, despite bound and cuffed, was all her face shown. The stoical in her made it as though she wasn't in pain.

Every part of Nathalie's body ached in no way she understood. For remaining energy, she mustered to move an inch was impossible to do, and she squirmed inwardly as the soreness and fatigue became her best friend as of the moment.

She couldn't scream as her jaws locked.

The more she got conscious, her wrist and ankles had bindings that she couldn't break free.

Opening her eyes became a chore, and let the darkness be welcomed for the moment.

The last thing she could do, which she turned out to be grateful enough, was able to hear and breathe well. 

But all she noticed was the eeriness of the silence, and not even a blow of the wind whispered in her ears. However, its streak put to a halt when the door went ajar, heralding a squeaky sound.

Group of thuds grew stronger, and her skin seemingly had a slight prick from their gaze.

Alas, the slow, lingering steps stopped, and from the edge of the bed, only the light showed silhouettes, and one of them had, from the collar down, revealing an embroidered suit and cape.

Surprisingly, they had an enticing smell, musky scent, and she distinguished the three of them.

"What are you going to do now, Your Grace?"

'Your Grace?' she pondered from the deep, hoarse voice she failed to recognize the voice of a devil spawn. 

"She's already awake; what else then?" 

Nathalie flinched when she recognized who it was and connected the dots in a blink of an eye.

She got kidnapped.

By none other than the Grand Duke of Forsberg himself.

Her heart skipped a beat and went on full throttle—crazy palpitations got closer enough to overwhelm her already mind-boggling.

Nathan muttered, "Speak up, you evil witch." 

Even if she did, it was impossible, and so she clenched her teeth in futility.

"You went too harsh on her." A cackle echoed in the room. "I like this, a swift victory!"

However, the other retorted right away, "Though I suppose with this quick action we would face the Grand Duke of the North's wrath just as well."

"Enough, both of you," Nathan let out a fair warning, shutting them, and the silence loomed without a hitch.

Meanwhile, Nathalie's head revved up with different thoughts crashed one another. 

'Nathan, and two other men—a crazy cuckoo, and a grumpy bastard. I'm trapped in here. I need to get out—'

Warmth smothered right on her face; by and by, her face relaxed and all of a sudden found the strength to open her eyes.

Up close were the impeccable features of the Grand Duke: from his voluminous cobalt fringes that cascaded her cheek, piercing lime eyes and defined cheekbones and jaws took her breath away.

The pupils in her eyes dilated, trembling in subtlety, from the godly features bestowed upon him, and able to look closely somehow lose her composure.

"Wake up, sleeping princess." Nathan then let out a smirk with a gaze that went up and down. "Though you wish you were a princess, you damned, nasty witch."

'He never stops calling me a witch with every curse paired with it as if it was an insult!' 

"Why aren't you saying anything?" He pulled away, which she lost track of her face from the darkness that shrouded him. "You're not mute."

Two of his lackeys, as what she coined and cared less about, roused a snarl.

Nathalie groaned when an ounce of pain crept towards her face. Now that she was at their mercy, she had to face them head-on.

"... W—Where am I?"

Her sultry voice silenced them.

"Y—Your Grace! Her voice! She has a voice! It's like a Goddess—"

A loud smack quaked the air, interrupting him.

"Fool! Not you giving compliments to a cunning witch, and in front of His Grace at that."

But then Nathan let out a hearty chuckle from what transpired.

"Untie her, Dawn, and bring me the chair, Dusk."

From his commands, almost sent electrocutions in her body the moment she heard these two popular names.

'The Twilight Twins had already appeared, and it was on this Grand Duke's side, all along?!' 

Her gut churned with nausea as she pondered in a snap. A part of her screamed that something wasn't connecting to the pieces, but she couldn't let her composure crumble in front of them.

Most importantly, she scrunched her face from the brightness that illuminated the room while the pressure that pressed on her wrists and ankles loosened.

With a squint, her eyes greeted with the elaborate yet stylistic motif of the room, but it didn't take her glance away from the three gorgeous and attractive men that were inches farther from the edge of the bed.

But the instant fear took over her as she scurried away to the headboard. Her back sought comfort as she kneaded the writhing pain on one of her wrists, alternately.

Nathan had a lopsided grin as he sat crossed legs with interlaced fingers on top of his knee, and two men, in formal suit and tie, stood behind him with a scornful gaze.

Either way, one of them named Dusk and Dawn, but they perceived her the same as garbage, which irked her a tad bit.

"I hope the Lady of Blackwell doesn't mind getting abducted towards the Grand Duchy of Forsberg. Suppose that it's only natural that everyone cares less about your wretched well-being, yes?"

The two behind Nathan snickered, and Nathalie peered nonetheless. 

A quick assessment of the situation could only go so far as not to have physical torture. Somehow, she was glad that Arnold still had the reputation, a large one at that.

She showed no emotions, no vulnerability the moment they threw insults at her. 

Psychological warfare was her game, and she won't let them have it their way.

"Indeed, Your Grace."

With a little quirk upon her lips, she thought, 'Let the games begin.'

[To what do I owe you pleasure in this lovely evening?]