Daily Life of a Transmigrating Villain

Her fingers trembled, and her body slackened as her legs buckled beneath her. She slid down the wall, her back scraping against the cold surface, tears welling up in her eyes.

\'I want to leave this place,\' she thought desperately, a silent cry echoing in her mind as she sought to escape the nightmare where she was bound to marry a man who was nothing short of a monster.

To him, she was nothing more than a pawn, a tool to be wielded by someone of his power and influence. He now held 78% of her family\'s business shares, his dominance in decision-making painfully clear.

No matter how profitable her choices will be, Damian could always override them with a flick of his pen.

Her dreams of graduating from college and elevating her family business to new heights, to reclaim the status her father once held in high society, seemed to crumble before her eyes.

And now, it all ended here.

Ting!

The sound of an incoming message on the man\'s phone caused him to casually retrieve the device, his gaze shifting from the broken woman before him to the screen. The message read:

:: Young Master, As you have predicted, a man has consumed the chemical. We will proceed to the next phase upon your signal. ::

A small smile crept across his face as he pocketed his phone and turned his attention towards the emerald-tinted window screen appeared between him and Emilia.

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\'...remove the senses amplification from the penalty,\' Damien commanded inwardly, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on the object of his focus.

He wasn\'t one to doubt his own capabilities; confidence was as much a part of him as his shadow.

Yet, Damien understood that even the most well-laid plans could be upended by unforeseen variables.

There was no merit in taking unnecessary risks, especially when his taste buds\' life depended on the outcome of his schemes

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\'Take it,\' Damien commanded, his voice cutting through the silence as he leaned down, extending his hand to Emilia. She was lost in a trance, her world teetering on the brink of darkness. Blinking away her tears and biting her lip, she heard him say, "Emilia, we are getting late for our marriage. Stand up."

\'How could he?\' Emilia\'s gaze lifted to meet his, her eyes tracing the path from his outstretched hand to the softness in his expression—a facade of care. His eyes seemed genuine, yet they harbored a depth of darkness that made her question the existence of such evil.

To any other woman, marrying a man like Damien—handsome, wealthy, and astute—might seem like a blessing.

But for Emilia, forced into this marriage and used as nothing more than a tool, his very presence made her skin crawl.

She was acutely aware that she was merely a stand-in for Amelia Crimwell—the renowned high society belle whom Damien Raphael had pursued for over four years.

Emilia\'s future loomed bleak; she was to marry a man who saw her as nothing but an instrument, devoid of love, who had cornered her family into this union.

\'...I need to kill him.\' The image of her mother flashed before her eyes as she glared at the man who needed to be eliminated. If he could go to such lengths just to marry her, what horrors might he commit in the future against those she cherished?

She understood that taking his life would mean the end of hers too. But perhaps it would be a mercy for the world if he were gone.

Her family, her friends, and her very existence—all lay in the palm of his hand.

And with one clench of his fist, everything could shatter.

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\'...Lyra, you are hellbent on killing my taste buds, aren\'t you?\' Damien mused about a certain individual as he turned his attention to Emilia, who reached out and clasped his hand, standing up with hollow eyes that stared straight ahead.

Observing her state, he felt a twinge of sympathy, but he couldn\'t afford to indulge in it too much.

After all, causing hurt was a part of his job and a daily occurence.

However, thanks to the sub Quest, he was confident he could soon turn her mood around.

"By the way, Emilia, did you know that your uncle is also invited?" Damien informed her casually, maintaining his gaze forward as he led the trembling woman whose body quivered with suppressed rage the moment his words reached her.

\'...no, no, NO!\' Emilia\'s mind was flooded with memories of betrayal—how her uncle had conspired against her father, dismantling the company and orchestrating his assassination through a meticulously executed plan.

Evidence had been wiped clean, witnesses bought off, and even the judge seemed swayed in his favor.

The case surrounding her father\'s death had evaporated into thin air, ruled an accident.

And now, this man had invited that very uncle—the one who had stolen everything from her: a kind father and a flourishing future.

"I...will kill you, Damien," Emilia vowed silently. She wasn\'t a coward; she wouldn\'t resort to backstabbing. Instead, she declared her intent aloud.

Unaware to her, it was a part of her that either sought death to prevent further harm or yearned for support after issuing such a warning.

"And how will you do that?" Damien asked nonchalantly as he pulled her along. Their fingers were interlocked; his grip firm as he led her forward. She followed mechanically, her gaze fixed on his back yet sensing his perpetual smile.

"I-I will stab you," Emilia proclaimed defiantly as she attempted to free herself with her other hand.

"My clothes are stab-proof. Next?" He teased her with amusement, prompting her to come up with something better.

"Then, I-I will burn you," Emilia declared again, her delicate fingers struggling in vain to escape his grasp.

"I\'ll just keep a pocket fire extinguisher handy. Next?" He could see the light from the hallroom growing brighter as they approached. His tone was laced with amusement as he felt her struggle and heard her soft-spoken threats, pushing him to continue teasing her.

"And? Maybe I\'ll drown you," Emelia declared, her voice laced with desperation. She inwardly cursed herself for not indulging in crime novels or fiction that might have taught her how to execute a perfect murder.

"But I know how to swim, you know? Can\'t you think of something better?" Damien retorted, halting just ten steps shy of the balcony that led down to the hall. He turned to face Emelia, whose eyes widened in realization that she was being mocked.

"You will regret this, Damien Raphael!" Emelia\'s outcry was lost amidst the cacophony of the hall below, causing Damien to tilt his head curiously and step closer, prompting her to instinctively retreat in fear.

"How about I suggest ways for you to kill me?" Damien offered, his voice a blend of mischief and challenge as he lifted her hand—her fingers struggling against his.

His deep black eyes mirrored her image back at her: the slight quiver of her dewy lips, eyes wide with apprehension, chest heaving with each breath, sweat beads tracing a path down her forehead before dissapearing in depths of her plump cleavage.

To anyone, this sight was intoxicating, compelling him to finally suggest a method for her to end him.

After all, if the would-be killer was this hot, even death would be divine.

Leaning in close enough for his breath to graze her ear, he whispered suggestively, "How about you kill me by getting stabbed instead? Burn my calories until I\'m malnourished and drown my consciousness in your bodily fluid—"

"How dare you!" Emilia felt humiliated as she cried out, her hand swinging to land a slap on his face.

"Come on, I was just helping you," Damien protested with feigned innocence as he caught her hand mid-slap.

His smirk was triumphant as he turned back towards the hall room, leading the tear-streaked woman out of the hallway, having already achieved what he wanted by seeing the movement of someone within the curtains trying to spy on them.

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