Villain Transmigration: Author Transformation

From the table, near Mystique's side, found a once small metallic box that seemed to gleam with utter brightness. Which caught both of their attention, with her rejoicing while he was brought to confusion. 

'What is this? Was it not a slab of metal with glass on top?

Now, he was rather surprised to see it was in such tremors, rumbling on the surface of the table. Out of instinct, he unsheathed his sword halfway through the scabbard when she raised her palm to stop him while grabbing it with ease.

[Rest assured, no harm will come our way.]

Her bringing it closer to her chest, the light graced her face with a myriad of colors as she then started to tap her fingers so fast, even sliding across it. After which, she placed it back down to what it was then—a metal slab with polished glass.

Even at this point, when he was supposed not to get surprised by more of the unknown objects presented in front of him, it still didn't fail to surprise him. He had never been so curious this far, but knowing her, stepping further her privacy would guarantee his head fell off without a doubt.

'She's still secretive to me these days…' he pondered, disheartened.

More so after what he did, there was no way he would've had the courage to do it, even if he had the guts.

[Quite curious you have there in your face, Keith.]

"... I beg your pardon, My Lady if it was rather unsettling." He slightly averted his gaze. "I don't think I've seen that before. I assume it's an artifact as well."

[You're very quick to catch on, indeed.] She smiled, grazing her fingertips over its polished surface. [This was a useful artifact given to me. His Grace, Nathan, sure is generous to show me how to use it.]

"Of course, after showing your heartfelt gratitude and kindness, they all—"

[I understand. But you don't have to go that far…] 

She wasn't that cold statuesque as she used to be, and her solemn face spoke volumes about how genuine she was with her intentions. Though as much as he hated to admit it, they all reciprocated well like the odds were in her favor.

[This is called a smartphone.]

"S—Smart—p—phony?"

Mystique slapped her face, shaking slowly, and wrote. [Smart—fone, like tone and bone…]

"I see…" Nodding, he muttered inaudibly. "A weird name choice is what I thought."

[You think so? I don't mind, it's from His Grace after all." She shrugged.

'I thought it was like a symphony or whatsoever… Smart and phony, quite a funny thing to describe I guess.'

[Through here, he told me another batch of supplies has arrived.]

Keith gaped his mouth, nodding, as he was beyond impressed by her claims like it was magical; if it weren't for her, then it would've been hard to take a word for truth.

[Now go, His Grace is on his way to the undercroft.]

"Most certainly."

Keith was about to leave the room when Athan was still in there, standing before him. Out of respect, he got stunned momentarily, then bowed to him before stepping aside. 

"I didn't know you're making me wait this long, Violette."

Meanwhile, Violette was back with her cold demeanor, crossing her arms as eyebrows arched at him.

[I suppose that's not any of your business.]

"Sharp tongue, your impertinence can put you into a tight position against me." 

[Think as you see fit.]

Athan scoffed after a dry chuckle. "Alright, I shall let it slide this time."

[What is it that you want to talk about?]

The prince's demeanor always irked him most of the time, and it usually comes out from time to time, especially to irritate the hell of Mystique. 

He couldn't help but snarl at him, but he knew he had to hold his reins, lest it would taint her already sully reputation—after having to continually build rapport and as she slowly became the bigger person that she wanted to be.

But he can't jump conclusions this time around, not the second time.

So much so he planned to stay longer, and watched her back against his ploys, he met his gleaming crimson eyes, giving him a slight flinch on his shoulders.

Brimmed with jealousy, and hatred—none of which were for her, but for him.

'Me?' But he dismissed the idea the second time as it was ridiculous.

Though it wasn't enough to scare him off; instead, his resolve grew strong that he needed to protect her.

Understandably so, Keith caught a glimpse of Mystique's body language, and for the last cue—after a slow blink of her eyes bearing with a soft gaze—he sighed in defeat.

"I shall take my leave." Thereafter, he closed the door as soon as Athan entered, and he prayed in good faith that no harm would come her way without him around.

On his way to the deeper floors of the castle, he pondered how stifling the tension was between them. How she wanted none of him, like throwing him away after all the times she had to throw herself at him. 

'Had the tables already turned?'

Mystique, back then, was so into Athan, and he would do anything to hurt her mentally and emotionally.

Now, Keith received potential death gazes and indirect threats from Athan, pushing him away from her only master—something he couldn't possibly do even if it was his will.

Then, he remembered that crazy night, the three of them. Mystique showed affection and was so amorous for both of them. 

'Was it all part of her scheme? An act? Revenge?' Somehow, quite a pang hit his heart, clutching his chest from the pain. 

Even so, Keith agreed that he would take part in Mystique's ruse to keep him jealous. Every moment they shared intimate time in front of Athan. 

To him, to be her significant other was too far-fetched, and now he got to taste it—so good to be true.

Although, it didn't stop him from thinking about the manipulative nature of her, and this wasn't the first time his hands got dirty and all bloody from her maniac requests. 

Perhaps it has begun to work on Athan, inadvertently affecting Keith just as well.

But one thing that terrified him was the first time he got involved with a great chance of hurting at the end.

'If she's successful… Does this mean I'm the one to take the fall?''