Villain Transmigration: Author Transformation

[Leave my family out of this mess.]

A slight twitch on the corner of his lips came, his train of thoughts began to swarm in his head.

It was time to assess the situation.

'Leave, not only her but also her family alone? Is she hinting at something else? Just how much did she know about the future?'

In retrospect, he thought a lot; almost not a night had passed did he forget about her—from her innovative contributions and the miracles she made.

He believed that her ruthless actions and desire for immediate results were rooted in her sense of urgency, like she had no time left.

First and foremost, Mystique only had disdain and contempt in her eyes for him. Only until the second chance came that it turned out different—for power.

For a bastard of a son like him, naturally, it crossed his mind.

Then she started to fight for his affection. Never once she shared about her foresight, which was understandable. Every end of her turmoil led to the forewarning of him.

Even after all that, she was still right in the end.

'It was almost like she calculated the future—every time, she was right. I could never forget that.' Athan rubbed his chin, thinking deeply as this was not an easy decision to make.

Now, with her saying she wanted none of it, even trying her best to move away from him. It made him skeptical about her actions.

'The desperation in her eyes, for wealth and power, for an unknown cause… I thought so little back then. Perhaps she knew how scary death knocks on one's door when fate tells you so…'

This time, Athan looked at her eyes—the same desperation seen but had a paradigm shift.

The strong desire for freedom…

Then he remembered her second question.

The room was dead silent.

They stared at each other—no one backed down as the clock continued to snap every second of it.

A quarter of a minute had passed…

.

A minute had passed….

'This is crazy.' Athan rubbed the bridge of his nose, and he gave up trying to get her.

On the other hand, Mystique also let go of her gaze and darted on the blank page of her grimoire.

"Should I remind you how I left you alone? You would always do crazy things."

Like the crazy lady that she was, she would do anything enough to garner his attention, even if it was hurting others. But because of her covert and sneaky attempts, most of them failed to take notice.

Poor victim, dare he claimed, would take the fall, and she would be right behind the shadows with her menacing laugh.

Mystique was the embodiment of evil at the time he ought to remove her from his life.

But fate played him so badly that he tried to ride against it until he made it without almost losing himself to insanity.

'I apologized, have I not?] However, she let out a sigh and paid no heed to his qualms. [Didn't I just tell you not a while ago?]

But when you do, either you would hurt others to get my attention or hurt the people around me."

"As much as I would like to tell you that I didn't come here to represent and seek peace offerings for all the people you've caused pain, I'm all alone in this, and I wanted to believe you. Athan tilted his head, leaning against the back pillows of the couch.

[Please believe me!]

Now, her penmanship was rather rushed, the same feeling he noticed too late back in the day.

Perhaps, he's closer to her hidden agenda.

"Mere words and empty promises are child's play for a manipulative woman like you. Who knows what you would do this time?"

[I'm so sick with all the charades, shams, and the shenanigans within the aristocratic world. I want none of it.] She then huffed out, tucking her draping periwinkle hair fringes at the back of her ear. [Although I'm afraid I misunderstood your interpretations of these so-called ideas you claim of me?]

'Not her trying to deny that she didn't see what awaited her,' Athan scoffed.

"You misunderstood none of it, Violette—" He pulled away, curling his eyebrows up from her childish question. "I suppose your ill-fated life in the future caused a sudden amnesia and deterrence in your mind?"

The conjured pen she wrote almost cracked, and its tip began to thaw.

'Right on the mark.'

Mystique then fiddled between her fingers, revitalizing her pen. [You may stick to your beliefs; unless you clearly draw the line, then I would never know what you could possibly be up to.]

Athan released his lax position and leaned again as though he tried to be interested in her acts. "To put it simply, I don't trust you that much, Violette."

For the second time, he was able to take on the momentum of their conversation.

With Mystique's shaking hand, she stopped writing; even with neck down, she glanced up with quite a stare—an element of surprise and a tinge of horror in her eyes.

[What must I do to gain your trust?]

Athan may have kept a straight face; he couldn't help but smirk from deep within.

"There are few things that you could do. Do you want to know?"

Only a curt nod from her was all she had reacted.

To him, for the whole time he probed, Mystique had finally got through her senses—perhaps even traumatized her so much. In a spectrum, she was already in a bracket of skeptical allies.

Just as what he hoped for, but things weren't enough for him. She was guarded in all directions, and it would only aggravate her if he took a wrong move—even making an enemy out of it.

"Well, Violette, it's just what you hoped for a long time…" Athan, at last, stood from his seat, and of all the places he strode, it was in her direction.

Closer and closer, she somehow shifted away from her original seat, much further away from him.

Never did he think there would come a day that he would blurt the words from his mouth.

Not out of coercion.

Not out of manipulation.

When Mystique hovered her hand to the armrest, she clutched her grimoire close to her chest. Neck arched up; his eyes gaped in horror as Athan's shadow loomed over.

He grabbed her by the chin, with their lips now an inch apart.

Dare Athan uttered.

"Marry me, Violette."