Villain Transmigration: Author Transformation

The room was dimly lit, with little to no light beamed from the arched windows. Though it was never silent for haughty grunts and mumbles echoed within four corners of the chamber.

Athan huffed aloud, this time, as he had several rounds of push-ups—one hand at a time—never losing a beat from his rhythmic workout.

His body glistened, akin to adorned jewels, from his rigid and firm muscles on his bare torso. Sweat became his second skin, coating him well and went drip by drip as his face grimaced from pushing to the limits.

After an hour, he took a stop; he stood—hands on his waist and looked at the ceiling from the euphoria that rushed into him—with his chest rising and falling ever-so-quickly.

'I seem to gain strength from this.' He then glanced at his toned body, flexing his arms and a subtle twist in his hips. 'I need to cool down…'

After his hand grazed over his chiseled abs, he took another round of stretches from his neck down to his ankles.

His hand immediately reached on the wool towel and wiped off his sweat.

Athan plopped on the bed in the guest-chamber he was accommodated, with arms spread as wide as he could, cozying on its soft fabric.

The crown prince's stay wasn't all for naught as he made every second of it productive, be it his objectives and personal growth, as he needed to become stronger than before.

'For your daughter, you're willing to give up, huh?' he thought again, which he gritted his teeth in disdain.

So far, the prince has treated and accommodated well with his needs.

Even his other 'needs' were provided, but after a quick interaction had lost his interests, just scramming them out of his sight.

None of them would give him that kind of ecstasy he craved when he was with her that night, however vague and steamy it became that night.

It has been days since the incident in Arnold's study transpired, and he almost forgot how much the Grand Duke of Blackwell was willing to extend all for Mystique.

It was no wonder he would turn his back on the empire, even if it meant becoming the enemy.

In hindsight, the unknown cause of Mystique's awakening wasn't related to the future enemy that would wreak havoc. To such extent, Arnold would be more than willing to surrender his assets to the Emperor was simply unheard of...

It might actually bring happiness to the Emperor, for more power came his way.

However, this wasn't what Athan wanted.

'Either enemies or allies, yet he got the nerve to leave out of it—being neutral and out of it will never be a solution.' He covered his face and groaned in frustration from the thought, 'A lot of things happened after I came back in time. Most of it wasn't my convenience…'

His hands pulled away and back to the warm quilt and stared at the ceiling of the bed.

'Did I make the wrong decision?'

He had to admit, things got tough the moment he realized Mystique had turned back time as well, but after taking a hint what that satchel bag was, it turned out to be a blunder for her—as her reaction to Arnold's claim was too much of a shock.

'Today is the last day of my stay here, and I shall see and make the most out of it.'

Staying any longer would not be a good choice; after all, the people in here became too wary of him.

It was about time Nero was safe to travel and was in good shape, all thanks to Mystique as much as he hated to admit he owed her.

One of the reasons why he disregarded the issue with the satchel bag. Probing further might change their minds, all hope wasn't lost, and there were a lot of opportunities that would come by for him to take.

Marianne started to pack her things; in the meantime, she could stay at the abode he had just at the outskirts of the Imperial Capital. With Nero beside her, she was more than safe while keeping an eye on her improvements until the final day he needed her the most.

'I need to get back to the Imperial Capital as well with the Grand Auction approaching its way…'

Afterwhich, he got out of the bed and donned leather-and-wool tunics and trousers to keep himself warm from the rather cold ambiance.

He went out to take a few walks, and his thoughts led him to a hallway he was deeply familiar with: the one that located Mystique's bed-chamber—just at the end of the hallway that turned to the left-wing. As such, he ought to turn back when his ears perked up.

"Your Grace."

A chorus from the ladies-in-waiting chimed.

'She's up rather early in the morning? That sounds so fresh.' He couldn't help but take a peek, with an armored statue after the corner of the hallway.

[My, what a presentation…] Mystique's eyes glowed, hands clacking from her acrylic nails. [You have the audacity to wear such a tablecloth and unkempt hair in my presence.]

'Ugh, her attitude remained nasty as ever.' Not her calling them with such remarks.

They apologized, but she hadn't stopped berating their looks, as though it made her ugly.

After the sermon, she started to delegate the tasks she had for them. There hasn't been anyone entering her room ever since he arrived.

His father, Arnold, could enter but only when she permitted, but it was still as strict as it could get.

Athan tried his best to grab the information, and Nero would be the only one to help him.

But after checking him for several days, it seemed like nothing happened to him, although Mystique failed to detect.

Athan already learned how Nero's memories were altered by finessed work, but not that it could escape in his eyes.

He was different; he knew better. It made him impatient about what could lie behind those large doors.

But just as he thought nothing was interesting would make him stay when Arnold's voice echoed.

It wasn't his usual cheery tone when Arnold was with her daughter.

"Do you really want to go back to the Imperial Capital?"