A Psychopath Reborn as a Third-rate Villain

The abandoned street gradually fell silent.

The clash of steel had ended.

Only the lingering scent of blood and smoke remained.

The soldiers of House Darkmoor moved with practiced efficiency. Some secured the unconscious assassin, while others gathered the bodies of the two fallen warriors. Their expressions were solemn as they cleaned the battlefield, careful not to overlook even the smallest clue.

Only Andras and Lyra remained where the fight had begun.

Andras walked toward her without haste.

His calm violet eyes settled on the dagger still lodged deep in her shoulder.

Blood had soaked through her maid uniform, staining the pale fabric a dark crimson. The wound was severe, yet despite the pain contorting her features, she hadn’t uttered a single complaint.

She simply stood there.

Waiting.

Andras reached into his spatial ring.

A small crystal vial filled with shimmering emerald liquid appeared in his hand.

A high-grade healing potion.

He stepped in front of her.

”Hold still.”

Lyra gave a weak nod.

”...Yes, Young Master.”

Without another word, Andras placed one hand firmly against her shoulder to steady her.

His other hand wrapped around the dagger’s hilt.

Then—

He pulled it free in one swift motion.

”Ah...!”

A cry escaped Lyra’s lips as a fresh wave of pain surged through her body.

Blood immediately poured from the wound.

Her knees nearly gave way.

Before another drop could reach the ground, Andras uncorked the crystal vial and pressed it into her trembling hands.

”Drink.”

She obeyed without hesitation.

The emerald liquid disappeared in a single gulp.

Almost instantly, a warm current spread through her body.

Soft green light blossomed around the wound.

The torn flesh gradually knitted together.

The bleeding slowed...

Stopped...

Within moments, only a faint scar remained upon her fair skin.

Lyra let out a long breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.

”...Thank you, Young Master.”

She had barely finished speaking when—

Slap!

The sharp sound echoed across the deserted street.

Lyra’s head snapped to the side.

For a moment, she simply stood there in stunned silence.

Her fingers slowly rose to her reddened cheek.

Tears welled in her eyes as she looked back at Andras in confusion.

He met her gaze without the slightest trace of guilt.

”I don’t understand you.”

His voice remained calm.

”The assassins came for me.”

”You were never their target.”

”The rational decision for someone weaker than the enemy would have been to retreat.”

His eyes never left hers.

”Instead...”

”You threw yourself in front of the knife.”

A brief silence followed.

”Tell me.”

”Were your emotions clouding your judgement?”

Andras folded his arms.

The colour slowly drained from Lyra’s face.

She lowered her gaze.

For several long moments, she searched for an answer.

Finally...

She spoke softly.

”When I saw the knife...”

”I didn’t have time to think.”

”My body moved before my mind did.”

Her fingers tightened around the now-empty potion bottle.

”You are my master.”

”My duty is to protect and serve you.”

”If something happened to you because I hesitated...”

Her voice trembled.

”I could never forgive myself.”

She slowly lifted her head.

Her blue eyes met his.

”I know I’m weak.”

”I know I couldn’t defeat those assassins.”

”But...”

”If giving my life meant saving yours...”

”I wouldn’t regret it.”

Silence settled between them.

The breeze gently stirred the loose strands of Lyra’s silver hair.

Andras looked at her for a long moment.

Then he sighed.

”What a foolish answer.”

His tone was as indifferent as ever.

”A dead servant is worthless to me.”

”If you throw your life away when escape is still possible...”

”I lose a capable maid for absolutely nothing.”

His gaze sharpened.

”Loyalty without judgement is stupidity.”

”If you die accomplishing nothing...”

”Then your sacrifice has no value.”

His words were cold.

Blunt.

Almost cruel.

”So the next time something like this happens...”

He looked directly into her eyes.

”Use your brain before your loyalty.”

Lyra lowered her head.

”...I’m sorry, Young Master.”

Andras casually returned the empty potion bottle to his spatial ring.

”And another thing.”

”If this happens again...”

”Don’t expect me to waste another expensive healing potion on you.”

His expression remained completely unreadable.

”You’re useful.”

”But not useful enough for me to keep spending rare potions every time you make a reckless decision.”

”...Yes, Young Master.”

She answered quietly.

Outwardly, she accepted every word without complaint.

Yet deep within her heart...

Something had changed.

This is the first time...

...I’ve truly wished I were stronger.

If she possessed enough strength...

She wouldn’t have been forced to rely on blind courage.

She wouldn’t have become a burden.

She could have stood beside him as his sword...

Instead of merely hiding behind his shadow.

A quiet determination slowly took root within her heart.

When we return to the estate...

I’ll ask Young Master to let me train.

Even if he refuses...

I’ll keep asking.

Because the next time...

I don’t want to be protected.

I want to protect him.

---

Before long, the House Darkmoor convoy resumed its journey.

Kael Voss remained unconscious inside one of the carriages, his limbs tightly bound with enchanted restraints.

Several veteran knights surrounded the vehicle at all times.

There would be no chance of escape.

Andras and Lyra returned to their own carriage.

Neither spoke during the journey.

The rhythmic sound of the wheels rolling across the road filled the silence between them.

Hours later...

The towering silver walls of Darkmoor Manor finally appeared on the horizon.

The massive iron gates slowly opened as the convoy entered the estate.

Waiting servants hurried forward while several knights immediately escorted the unconscious assassin toward the underground prison beneath the manor.

One of the veteran soldiers approached Andras before offering a respectful salute.

”Young Master.”

”We’ll begin interrogating the prisoner immediately and report everything we discover.”

Andras shook his head.

”That won’t be necessary.”

The soldier blinked.

”...Young Master?”

”I’ll interrogate him myself.”

The knight hesitated for only an instant before bowing.

”As you command.”

Andras reached into his coat and removed a small sheet of parchment.

Using a fountain pen, he quickly wrote several items upon it before handing the list to the soldier.

”Bring me everything written here.”

The knight scanned the list.

His expression remained disciplined, though surprise briefly flickered across his face.

”It shall be prepared immediately.”

”Good.”

Without another word, the soldier departed.

Meanwhile...

Kael was carried into one of the underground interrogation chambers hidden beneath Darkmoor Manor.

Heavy iron doors groaned shut behind him.

The chamber was cold.

Silent.

Stone walls swallowed every sound.

Enchanted lamps fixed to the walls cast a pale golden glow across the room.

Kael sat bound to a reinforced steel chair.

Thick enchanted chains wrapped tightly around his arms, chest, waist, and legs.

Every restraint had been forged specifically to imprison powerful mages.

Escape was impossible.

Several minutes later...

Measured footsteps echoed through the corridor.

Clack.

Clack.

Clack.

The iron door slowly creaked open.

Andras stepped inside.

His expression remained calm.

His violet eyes carried neither anger nor satisfaction.

Only quiet curiosity.

The guards saluted.

”Young Master.”

He gave a slight nod.

”You may leave.”

The guards obeyed immediately.

The heavy iron door closed behind them.

Clang.

The sound reverberated throughout the chamber before silence reclaimed the room.

Only two people remained.

Andras Darkmoor.

And...

Kael Voss.

The interrogation was about to begin.