Reborn as the Villain's Fated Enemy

The rain began softly that morning—like a whisper sliding across the rooftops.

Lucien stood at the balcony, the scent of wet stone and rose lingering in the air. His eyes scanned the courtyard below where guards switched shifts and banners fluttered, though the wind carried a strange weight.

Change.

It was in the air. Tangible.

Behind him, the fire crackled gently, casting golden hues across the chamber's dark wood. And on the table, lay a letter that hadn't been there last night.

Anonymous. Sealed in black wax.

Lucien didn't open it immediately.

He stared at it—heart strangely calm, but alert.

"You're quiet," Eiran's voice came from the doorway.

Lucien didn't flinch. "I'm always quiet before something breaks."

Eiran stepped in, cloak still damp from his morning rounds. He followed Lucien's gaze to the letter.

"Another threat?"

Lucien nodded. "I think it's from the Court."

Eiran's jaw tightened. "Then we open it together."

Lucien peeled the wax seal. Inside was a single phrase, scrawled in blood-red ink:

> "The price of defiance is never paid alone."

They stared at it for a long moment. Neither spoke.

But in that silence, Lucien felt something shift—Eiran's hand brushed against his, deliberate and unhurried.

Lucien didn't pull away.

He couldn't.

---

Later that day, Lady Seraphina entered the royal greenhouse where Lucien sat amidst blooming nightshade and ghost orchids. Her heels made no sound against the marble floor.

"They'll strike soon," she said without preamble. "And not just with ink and riddles."

Lucien glanced at her. "You sound certain."

"The Obsidian Court is never patient. They wound the mind before they take the flesh."

Lucien swallowed the chill crawling up his spine.

"I need to protect him," he said quietly.

Seraphina's gaze softened, but she didn't smile. "You can't shield him forever. He is not a flower, Lucien."

"I know," Lucien replied. "But even swords break."

Seraphina exhaled slowly and knelt beside a hidden patch of silver nettle, touching its sharp-edged leaves. "Then sharpen his will, not his blade."

---

That night, after the castle had quieted, Lucien wandered the hallways until he found himself outside Eiran's chambers.

He hadn't intended to come.

And yet, he was here.

He knocked once.

The door opened almost instantly.

Eiran looked at him—eyes unreadable but not unkind. "Couldn't sleep?"

Lucien shook his head.

"Come in."

Lucien stepped inside. The fire was low, the room warm but shadowed.

"I keep thinking…" Lucien began, voice quieter than he liked. "What if this doesn't end well?"

Eiran looked at him for a long time.

"Then we rewrite the ending," he said softly. "Like you've been trying to do since the moment you arrived."

Lucien's breath caught.

"You don't even know who I really am."

"I know enough," Eiran said. He stepped closer. "You're no villain."

Lucien laughed once, bitter. "Then why does everyone keep treating me like one?"

Eiran didn't answer right away.

Instead, he reached forward, brushing a damp strand of hair from Lucien's forehead—fingers lingering, uncertain.

"You frighten them," he said gently. "Not because of what you'll do. But because you've already changed too much."

Lucien looked into his eyes—really looked—and saw no fear, no doubt.

Just quiet defiance.

And something else… something tender.

"I'm scared too," Lucien whispered.

Eiran's thumb brushed against his cheek. "Then be scared. But don't run."

Lucien closed his eyes.

And in that moment, for the first time in days, he breathed fully.

He stayed that night—not out of weakness, but because strength sometimes meant letting someone hold the storm with you.

---

But as the moon sank behind the hills, a different storm gathered beyond the palace walls.

A hooded figure stood in the ruins of an old chapel on the outskirts of the kingdom. With a single whispered chant, a mirror of obsidian bloomed to life before them.

Inside the reflection—Lucien stood with Eiran, side by side.

The hooded figure grinned.

> "Let the false bond flourish. The greater the light… the deeper the shadow when it's torn away."

---

To be continued…