Villain Transmigration: Author Transformation

Now that Athan was all freshened up, he got out of the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and changed himself with spare clothes—which he gazed at the gray cotton tunic and trousers hung by the broken garment rod in the wardrobe.

In which he trudged close to it, being a tad careful for all the mess that clumped within the room.

"Your Highness," Marianne muttered after a series of knocks erupted behind the door. "As you have requested, I made a coffee."

Without looking in its direction, he hollered in a snap. "You may come in."

Athan wore his trousers and was about to insert his left arm onto the unbuttoned tunic when the door clinked and opened wide. Her shock reactions piqued his interest from the peripheral vision, and he looked at her with nonchalance.

Marianne wore a flared maxi dress with fitted wrists and waist, which accentuated her curves laid behind the satin fabric. Her kempt hair was made into a bun with a piece of jeweled headdress locking along with it.

Meanwhile, her sniff was as though giving her a sudden onset of vertigo came up to her as she moved backward, gagging from the pungent smell in his room.

"You—this such strong manly—scent—" Her eyes went aglow—a bright aquamarine at that, blinking—then closed them as she coughed aloud on her shoulders from the musky odor that hovered the room. 

"Is it that bad?" He furrowed, drawing his face close to his chest and armpits in turn; he begged to differ about such responses.

Though he never expected that reply would come from his back, rather with a deep rumble sound that came from Nero's monotonous tone.

"Fool, you were so dirty that even the heaps of trash recognize you as their brethren."

"Mind your fucking business," he retorted.

"Fine. I could care less…"

"Funny."

"I think; therefore I am." Nero's emerald eyes shone brightly for a split second before rolling and went back to take a rest.

But there was no point in arguing with him; he should've been more considerate, at least for her.

"No." Athan shook his head, trying to retract his words. "Can you do something about this?"

"I do, but don't forget to clean your shit." 

Nero opened his mouth and, from the thin mist that came with it, now sucked the air. Its rumbling noise went abuzz for almost a minute before his jagged, craggy mouth sealed. On the other hand, Athan sighed and began to ask her.

"Are you alright?"

She now looked around, both of her eyes and mouth left agape while she looked around the disarray of items she didn't need to enumerate, but it wasn't all as the broken frames—of both the wood and metal—had dents and fractures on them.

But just when she thought her eyes couldn't get any wider, she sucked in a cold breath when her gaze roamed over his body. She already flushed cheeks spread throughout her body, averting right away.

Athan had a twitch on the corner of his lip as her response was he knew all too well.

"You're trembling," he said as he slipped on the tunic and tugged the lapels of it. "I can hear the clinking sound of your tray."

"Perhaps I shall come back some other time then—" 

"It's all good; come in." He raised his hand and beckoned her to come in instead of letting her turn around and leave the room with the coffee on the tray.

"My deepest apologies, I shall put this by the nightstand over there," she replied; from there, she took her time to steer clear for all of the litters sprawled on the floor. 

All she knew was she had to tip-toe and prowl as the floor already had cracks and dents. 

Somehow, her actions never failed to fascinate him. Not that he was that dense when it came to her, rather he chose to ignore her for a lot of reasons.

Matthew's little sister, foremost, was already a red flag for her. God may haven't forbid their strong friendship for one another, but it was sure that he wouldn't allow such union for an immoral man like him.

He may have influenced his best friend, but he still has a moral compass, and there was no way he would compromise their friendship while fooling around with her. 

Although, he got stumped when he remembered what Mystique did to her, which could have worsened if he continued. The controlling, malicious psycho that she was, what she did was nasty as it could ever be.

He was glad it came to light that Marianne was no different: a schemer, but genuinely invested feelings for him, unlike Mystique.

'To think I'm doing them a favor; I can't really blame these ladies throwing themselves at me—" 

Soon as she placed the tray, her hands smoothened down the dress, uttering, "You didn't tell my brother about me, correct?"

"No."

"Not yet, then."

"... Yes." Athan sighed after he took a deep breath, buttoning his tunic, and adjusted the cuff of his sleeves. "The secret is safe with me; you can rely on Nero as well." He jerked his head to where Nero curled by the corner peacefully.

"You better." 

Her huffs somehow ticked him a bit; Through a sharp turn, he spat. "Well, why don't we see how you have performed so far?"

"Oh, I will." She placed her hands on her hips with such a look in her eyes that it went too intimidating for him. The lady in front of her was up and ready for the challenge and somehow got him impressed. 

"That won't be a problem—"

"I suppose you need to be on your right mind for a while." From her arched eyebrows turned deep creased as she covered her nose, scouring around, and took a good look among the empty wine bottles, champagne, and some white packets that scattered along the trashes.

"This is nothing. I shall take my leave for several days. While I'm away, you need to improve your part." Athan grabbed a fur-lined cloak and perched it on his shoulder. With a single move that swung the air, he added, "Oh here; you need to have this."

She trekked amongst the litters when he beckoned her with his finger like she was a domestic pet.

"W—What is it?"

"Just come here…"

Athan rummaged in his pocket and retrieved a pendant—an amber stone with fractal designs on its round frame.

"F—For me—?"

The world seemed to stop for a while as she tripped from the wine bottle that hit her sole. 

In the spur of the moment, it would've been strange if fate played with him once more.