Villain Transmigration: Author Transformation

It has been five days since the incident and Nathalie was always in her room.

No one knew what she was up to, even his father.

All this time, she had already laid down the preparations, just a matter of time that would tick for them to pop for her benefit.

Withal, she took a strut towards the vanity, and there she pulled up the safe and retreated the heap of a brand new paper from it. Every flip from the page reeked of age; its musky wood scent hovered to her nose.

"Let me check the phone as well." She grabbed it from the sling bag and pressed the power button. To her surprise, it beeped and powered on.

Her things were still present, and it left her dumbfounded as to how it was possible. Some advanced technologies went through this high-fantasy world she had created.

From the home screen, her face greeted her. She had the cobalt eyes behind the safety goggles and wore a laboratory gown. Her usual hand signature, the peace sign, nudged her left cheek and poked the blue safety net she wore.

'Look at that smile.' Nathalie couldn't help but imitate as well; she was glad the face mask lowered more than anything. With that, she stole a glance in front of the mirror at how different she became.

But she had enough of the nostalgia.

Slender fingers of hers worked their wonders from scrolling up or down and then swiping left or right. Her files had so many e-books and other resources that would be handy to her, both as an author and as a student. Even her galleries, aside from her pictures; it was full of screenshots and specific notes she had to capture.

'Those were the days…'

There were many utilities she won't further pry into, as well as the entertainment—of games and music—for her to indulge some fun.

But not when the battery percentage is ticking from it.

The bad news was: no internet or signal for her to look up, which was a bummer.

'This won't do.' She clicked her tongue, but at least she knew what was up and what to do about it. 'I need a make-shift charger—Wait! I have a power bank!'

The heavens heard her plea, and she heaved a sigh of relief when she pulled it out, with another cord for her adapter. A charger, indeed.

But this was only a temporary measure.

With that in mind, she looked around how most were powered through magic, these circuits made of magic stones and the like she ought to enlist them in intricacy. They all have the same mechanism as to how science should behave.

'The problem would be compatibility...' She glared at her phone that charged after days of using the phone as she tried to transfer all of the manuscript's information to it. 'Right, I need something citrus, a tangerine fruit—I might need to get some soon.'

Her fingertips grazed over its surface, white, albeit now too rough than what she used to write. It was rather understandable. That in mind, she took a seat and started to press her fingertips like the keyboard warrior that she was.

Nathalie bit her lip as the sweat that profused from her forehead—began to trickle to the side, then down to her neck and nape—which she had no plans to wipe them off like there was no time left. It was a good thing she tied up her hair to a crown bun to avoid distraction.

Indeed, it was as though she was isolated and wouldn't let anyone come in. Despite that, her father, Arnold, seemed persistent. He always had a soft spot in Mystique's heart, and it goes the same for her.

But she had a condition to respect her privacy. Arnold issued a command to bring more guards and maids to tend to her needs. Her rejections would meet his feign ignorance.

Nathalie brought up an act and tried to throw a tantrum. In the end, he tried to appease her. She couldn't help but inwardly sneer. He just wanted to justify his actions ever since what happened to Mystique; he had to keep her safe.

Arnold was still stubborn, and he also made a condition. For that, he didn't mind he would be the one to push the food trolley in, even to the point of feeding her. The more she would protest, the more he would gape with dreamy, sparkling eyes while beaming at her.

At least, it was those times she would take a break from doing her main objective.

'Now that I'm awake, Arnold won't meet his tragic fate and become an accomplice with them. But I can't say the same with the rest. Before they all get connected, I have to nip them first.' She continued to type the passages.

However, her index finger halted when she thought of the main hurdle.

'Athan wouldn't know all of this, right? I could just act as what he would do, a reincarnation…' She shook her head. 'No, it's not that easy, and since I'm not that certain yet, I'll start to weave and several steps ahead from him.'

After the last click, she then pressed the save button. Finally, she pumped her fist and squealed that everything was over.

"My Mysti?" Arnold's sweet call would always flinch her, and she had to keep these important items hidden.

'Father!' She replied while running her fingers over them and placed them back to the vault.

"I have brought you food for tonight."

Nathalie jumped, sailing nimbly in the air, and rolled up the warm quilt as she sent out the signal.

[Come in!]

Arnold was quick to move as he opened the door, pushing the food trolley. Before he could move, he flicked his hand, slamming the door, and went towards her.

[Can you not do that? You'll ruin the door.]

"Are you implying we are but of humble origins and a poor household?" Arnold placed his hand to ruffle her hair. "Oh? What's this? I thought you'd never let any of the ladies-in-waiting enter your room to do this lovely hairstyle on you?"

Arnold's shrewdness and meticulousness on details had her heart skipped a beat, a dread sensation tingling throughout her body.

'Shoot! My hair—!'