The Dark Lady's Guide to Villainy [Book 1 Complete] [Dark Lord, School, Romance]

With a nod, Mo allowed Nyx to guide her deeper into the dance. The movements changed—slower, more deliberate, with partners pressed closer than before. The music wove subtle enchantments through the air, encouraging whispered confidences and passionate betrayals in equal measure.

Just as Mo opened her mouth, despite all her earlier reservations, to press Nyx a bit more about Dorian, something shifted. Nyx's hand at her waist suddenly felt different—smaller, warmer, with a subtle curve where masculine angles had been moments before.

A ripple of gasping whispers swept across the nearby dancers. Mo looked up to find Nyx's form dissolving like morning mist, revealing a lithe, feminine figure beneath. As they spun together, their white suit seemed to shred away, showing an astonishing gown of midnight blue that somehow fit under it and perfectly complemented Mo's blood-spattered white ensemble.

"Second reveal of the night," Nyx said, now decidedly feminine, their voice a melodious alto that carried all the theatrical flair of their usual speech. The gown flowed like liquid shadow, its fabric catching the light in ways that suggested it wasn't entirely of this world. Across the midnight-blue material, artful splashes of crimson, emerald, and violet perfectly mirrored the pattern of blood and magical residue on Mo's suit.

Almost perfectly.

A better match would only be if Mo had done her deed in a more artistic way. Her canvas definitely didn't look as carefully painted as Nyx's dress.

Most shocking of all, Dorian's obsidian moon clip now adorned the back of the dress, positioned directly over Nyx's posterior like a mocking celestial ornament. This time with the horns pointing down.

"How did you know to coordinate with the current state of my dress? It's like you anticipated exactly which bodily fluids would be decorating me by now."

"A shapeshifter has many secrets," Nyx said, though their smile didn't quite reach their eyes. "Not the least of which is anticipating what others might become. But seriously, Mo, didn't you read any of the historical Ball reports I gave you? Centuries of well documented splatter patterns don't lie." They traced an elegant finger along one of the stains on Mo's sleeve. "Though I did say you needed some emerald. We should fix that momentarily—your homage to abstract expressionism is incomplete without it."

Mo recognized the performative confidence covering genuine pain. "Nyx, about Dorian…"

"I completed my first task. Psychological discomfort through shapeshifting. Did you see his face? Pure textbook villain psychology. I'll get full points."

"That wasn't just an assignment. That was…"

"Brilliance? Theatrical genius? The perfect blend of academic requirements and personal liberation?"

Their dance had carried them to a quieter corner of the floor, partially hidden by a pillar wrapped in writhing shadow vines. In the relative privacy, Mo felt Nyx's form shift closer, feminine curves pressed against her in a way that made her breath catch. Their face—currently heart-shaped with starlight freckles sparkling across obsidian cheeks—hovered mere inches from hers.

"I've always wondered," Nyx said, voice dropping to an intimate whisper, "what it would be like to kiss someone who understands transformation and hiding your true persona almost as good as you do. Even if it's a transformation of a different kind."

The air between them thickened with unspoken possibilities, Mo's energy visibly mixing and mingling with Nyx's. Sparking unconsciously at their fingertips as Nyx leaned closer. Their lips—impossibly smooth obsidian that shimmered like starlight—hovered just a breath away. Heat bloomed between them, succubus nature responding instinctively to the moment of genuine connection.

For a heartbeat, Mo surrendered to it—the pull, the understanding, the shared experience of being outcasts in a world of outcasts.

At the last possible moment, she turned her face, Nyx's lips brushing against her cheek instead of their intended target.

"I have something for you," Mo said, voice husky as she gently created distance between them. "I completed one of your tasks—three student fears. So, now you only need to add the fake answer to the third task and you're done."

Nyx blinked, confusion flickering across their features before a brittle smile reasserted itself. "Excellent! Let's hear them, then. Who am I terrorizing next?"

"Darian fears irrelevance," Mo began, watching Nyx's reaction carefully.

"Oh, that's delicious. Knowing the school's premier gossip-monger fears being forgotten is quite useful. Gathering intel on an enemy is perfectly reasonable. What else?"

"There's also Durian, who apparently exists and is their third cousin. He fears being compared to the fruit because he was bullied in the primary school."

Nyx's form rippled with surprised laughter. "Wait—there actually is a Durian? I thought you were joking!" Their obsidian skin glittered with amusement. "Though I must say, when you commented about his, what was that, pungent smell, right? It seems you were doing exactly what those childhood bullies did. At least not to his face."

"I was, wasn't I?" Mo admitted sheepishly. "Jokes we make..."

"And the third fear?" Nyx prompted, their form subtly stretching taller.

"Dorian fears…"

The temperature dropped several degrees. Nyx's form went completely still—unnaturally, terrifyingly still.

"You used my assignment to get intel on Dorian?!?" Their voice split into multiple discordant tones. "You made him a target? For points?"

"That's not…"

"Was this some kind of test? See if I'd still care about him after my dramatic exit?" Their voice rose, drawing attention from nearby dancers. "Or maybe you planned this all before? You just couldn't resist meddling in my personal life? Was it a part of your grand plan since the very beginning?"

"Nyx, I was just trying to…"

"To what? Help? Fix me? Make sure I made the 'right' decision?" Their form grew even taller, losing its femininity, edges sharpening dangerously. "Because clearly I couldn't possibly manage my own relationships without the guidance of the great Morgana Nightshade!"

Couples parted around them, leaving an empty circle as Nyx's voice escalated to theatrical volumes. Mo noticed Professor Malvolia watching with predatory interest from the edge of the hall, scribbling something on her clipboard.

"That's not fair," Mo snapped, her own temper rising to meet Nyx's. "I was looking out for you. He was manipulating you for weeks!"

"And what exactly do you think you're doing?" Nyx's form flickered rapidly between masculine and feminine presentations before settling on something deliberately, provocatively unstable. "At least Dorian was honest about what he wanted!"

Before Mo could respond, Nyx spun away, their form melting back into a similar female form, but maybe something shaped more according to Dorian's tastes. They stormed past gawking students, deliberately bumping into Darian hard enough to send him sprawling before disappearing into the crowd.

Mo stood alone, acutely aware of whispers spreading like wildfire around her. She caught sight of Lucian nearby and gestured frantically.

"Can you talk to them?" she asked when he approached. "You have to tell them the final bit of the information for the assignment. About Dorian. Otherwise, they wouldn't get the full points!"

"Winter's harshest truths sometimes require another's voice to be heard. I'll find them."

As Lucian stepped away, Mo looked around, searching for anything to distract herself. For any shelter in this emotional storm. Across the ballroom, Professor Malvolia stood watching with predatory interest, as she did throughout the evening.

Perfect. One more task to complete.

Mo straightened her blood-spattered suit and approached the professor with deliberate confidence. "Professor, I was wondering if I might ask you directly about your opinion of my field exercise?"

Malvolia's eyebrows shot up, her quill freezing mid-stroke. For a moment, she simply stared at Mo, then her lips curved into something almost resembling a genuine smile.

"Well, well," she said, tapping her clipboard thoughtfully. "Such directness is both surprising and refreshing, Lady Nightshade. Most students attempt elaborate schemes of deception or clumsy manipulations to extract such information." She gestured dismissively toward a group of seniors attempting to eavesdrop. "Those three have been trying to bribe my teaching assistants. During the ball. With their meager finances. Ridiculous, isn't it?"

"I thought efficiency might be appreciated."

"Indeed, it is. My opinion hasn't substantially changed since your return," Malvolia said, examining Mo's ruined suit with clinical interest. "Your methodology was unorthodox but effective. The goblin unionization approach demonstrates a sophisticated understanding of long-term resource management that most students lack. And it seems that you may even profit from your research. Not many scholars can boast with that kind of results."

She tapped her clipboard and made a few marks on the parchment.

"Though, I must admit," she continued, "turning your advisor into a portal anchor was an unexpected innovation. I'm not sure how reproducible this technology would be. Still, I'd recommend you to apply for the arcane certification for it as well. Even if you don't plan to sell it, somebody else would definitely use it. And you'd better be compensated in that likely situation."

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She leaned closer, voice dropping to ensure only Mo could hear. "Between us, I may have had some influence over which Hidden Agenda tasks you and your... friends... received tonight." A calculating gleam entered her eyes. "One likes to see how promising students respond to proper incentives. The Tournament will be particularly illuminating this year."

Before Mo could respond, Malvolia's attention shifted to something over Mo's shoulder. "Ah, it seems your suitor is waiting for you. How, hm… deliciously inappropriate. But anyway, you'll get your ten points for the direct approach, Lady Nightshade."

Mo turned, Julian stood there, concern evident in his expression.

"Everything alright?" he asked. "That scene with Nyx... It seemed… intense."

"Just friendship drama in the middle of villain ball. Nothing I can't handle."

"About earlier—I need to show you something. The breakthrough I mentioned. It's revolutionary." His eyes lit with the particular intensity they always had when discussing their shared research. "If we could step outside for a moment?"

Mo glanced around the ballroom. Lucian had disappeared after Nyx. Valerius was deeply engaged with a professor, clearly extracting information with practiced charm. No one else seemed particularly concerned with her presence or absence. She was almost ready to follow Julian when she remembered her assignment, her points. If she had left now, all the drama of the evening would be for nothing.

"We can't leave yet. I still have to make sure our last tasks are coordinated with Nyx and Lucian. And you saw what's happening…"

"I know, I know. You'll be disqualified." His eyes darkened as he stepped closer, the hurt palpable in his expression. "Funny how you're willing to drop everything when your… friends… need you, but when I've been trying to show you my breakthrough all evening… What about us? What about me?"

"Really? Now?" Mo snapped, rose-gold energy unconsciously sparking between her fingers. "Nyx is fragile right now. They're lashing out because of Dorian."

"That's why you kissed? I saw you!"

"No! We didn't! I would never take advantage of their emotional state." Her power pulsed beneath her skin, responding to her rising anger.

"But otherwise you would?"

Julian backed away from Mo in a blind fury.

"And what exactly was happening while you were dancing with Valerius for half the night? Isn't he your childhood nemesis or whatever? Or… Ah… I get it! The bookstore barista and the aristocratic villain—classic enemies-to-lovers trope come to life? Should I be taking notes for your biography?"

Mo stepped forward, the air between them thickening with dangerous energy. "I'm doing what I need to survive this place. Don't you dare…"

"Survive? Is that what we're calling it?" Julian's voice dropped to a ragged whisper, his usual careful composure fracturing like ice under too much weight. "You are rich. You have an empire. I am the one who is surviving! I thought we were partners. In research. In... everything."

His eyes gleamed with a feverish intensity Mo had never seen before—not the measured enthusiasm of their study sessions, but something wilder, almost desperate.

"You want to know what I've been trying to show you all night? While you've been dancing with your 'childhood nemesis'?" Julian pulled a small crystal from his pocket that pulsed with a strange opalescent light. Inside, what looked like a miniature constellation swirled and shifted. "This. This is what I wanted to share with you."

Mo's anger faltered, curiosity momentarily overriding her frustration. "What is that?"

Julian glanced around quickly before stepping closer, his breath warm against her ear. "The answer. The culmination of everything we've been working on. A way to quantify magic not just for study—but for distribution."

The crystal pulsed brighter, as if responding to his excitement.

"I've done it, Mo. I've found the way to create a real System—like in those books you gave me. A way to give humans access to magic. All humans." His words tumbled out faster, riding a wave of barely contained exhilaration. "Not just those of us with a few drops of arcane blood—everyone. On Earth. On other planets. Other planes of existence. Equally distributed. Measurable. Trackable. Democratic. That's what we wanted!"

His mumbling was becoming too intense for Mo at that moment. Not right after the fallout with Nyx and strange cessation of hostilities with Valerius. Her head spun, the Ball's chaos receding as Julian's words sank in. "That's... that's not possible."

"But it is!" His fingers trembled as he cradled the crystal. "The ancient texts I found in the Forbidden Archives mentioned theoretical frameworks. The missing piece was quantification—exactly what we've been developing together. Our progression charts weren't just academic exercises; they were the blueprint!"

Mo felt her stomach drop. "You were never interested in helping us train. You wanted our system for... this?"

"No! Yes… I mean… both!" Julian's eyes were too bright, fever-bright. "I needed to understand how natural magic users conceptualize their powers. Your methodology was the key—breaking down abstract concepts into measurable increments. But don't you see what this means? No more hierarchies based on bloodlines. No more beings like you dominating those like me simply because of birth! Well, not me per se, but my fellow humans."

The crystal pulsed again, brighter this time. Several nearby dancers stumbled, momentarily light-headed. Strange symbols suddenly blinking and fading away as arcane halos around their heads.

"This isn't theoretical anymore," Julian continued, oblivious to the effect. "I've created a prototype. A microcosm of the full System. It just needs an anchor—something powerful enough to stabilize it during implementation."

Mo stared at him, horror dawning as pieces clicked into place. "The Thirteenth Chamber. That's why you've been asking about Aldric."

Julian nodded eagerly. "Yes! The technique you used—turning a living being into a magical anchor. It was brilliant, Mo! The soul's power is almost indefinite! With the chamber's amplification properties and the right subject, we could extend the System's reach across multiple realms, starting with Earth."

"The right subject?" Mo's voice had gone dangerously quiet. "You mean a sacrifice."

"A volunteer," Julian corrected quickly. "I have someone willing to serve as the anchor—someone whose contribution will change everything."

"And did you ask the billions of humans if they want your System imposed on them?" Mo demanded, magical energy crackling between her fingertips. "Did you consider what happens when you suddenly give magic to beings who've never had it? Who have no ethical framework for its use?"

Julian blinked, genuinely confused. "Why would they refuse? It's power. Advancement. Progression. Evolution!"

"It's chaos. Have you even read how those books begin carefully? Or did you skip to the tables with numbers right away? When systems are imposed without consent, they don't create utopia—they create battle royales. They bring out the worst in people—greed, violence, exploitation. For every hero, you get a thousand villains."

"That's just fiction…"

"It's human nature. You're talking about fundamentally altering reality without anyone's permission. How is that different from what the High Council does? From what Umbra teaches?"

Julian flinched as if struck. "I'm nothing like them! I'm trying to create equality!"

"By single-handedly deciding what's best for an entire species?" Mo's voice rose despite herself. "That's not equality—that's just changing who sits on the throne!"

She didn't notice Professor Malvolia gliding closer, the Headmaster's shadow stretching impossibly long behind her.

Julian clutched the crystal tighter, his face flushed. "You don't understand. The research is sound. I've calculated the conversion rates, the energy distribution matrices, the psycho-magical absorption thresholds, admissible wastage."

"Admissible wastage?!?"

But Julian wasn't listening to Mo anymore, even while she was almost shouting. "With proper anchoring through the Thirteenth Chamber, the System would stabilize across dimensions, creating quantifiable attribute values for every human—strength, intelligence, magical affinity, all measurable, all improvable!"

"The Thirteenth Chamber?" The Headmaster's voice sliced through their argument like a blade through silk, ancient and terrible. "Fascinating research, Mr. Fennar. Do continue explaining how you plan to use ancient arcane spaces and hidden knowledge to fundamentally alter the whole restricted race."

Julian froze, the blood draining from his face as he turned to find the Headmaster looming behind him, darkness gathering around his ageless form like a storm cloud.

"Headmaster Ashenfall, I…"

"Weaponizing soul-anchoring techniques. Heretical use of the ancient texts. Distribution of magical abilities to humans." The Headmaster's voice remained eerily calm as shadows deepened around him. "Each alone may be easily punishable by execution. Together, they constitute high treason against the natural order."

Professor Malvolia stepped forward, her clipboard forgotten as she raised her hands, dark energy coalescing between her palms. "Shall I detain him, Headmaster?"

Julian's eyes darted between them, then back to Mo—a flash of betrayal followed by something harder, more determined. "I didn't expect you to understand, after all. You've become exactly what they wanted—a tamed Dark Lady prototype protecting her privilege."

Mo reacted on pure instinct—rose-gold energy erupting from her fingertips in concentrated tendrils that shot toward Julian's mind. She knew the pathways of his consciousness intimately, had traced them in countless moments of connection during their time together.

During their night together.

She knew exactly which channels to flood with her influence, which neural pathways would be most receptive to her power.

"Stop," she commanded, her voice resonating with layers of compulsion as she poured everything she had into the connection, trying to freeze him before the professors could take more drastic measures.

For a fraction of a second, their eyes locked—Julian's widening with shock as he felt her power rushing toward him like a tide. But instead of yielding as he was supposed to, his mind twisted away, slipping from her grasp like water through fingers.

"I was right…" he whispered, genuine hurt flashing across his face before hardening into resolve. "Even you…"

Without warning, he crushed the crystal in his fist. Opalescent light exploded outward in a blinding flash, forcing everyone nearby to shield their eyes.

The deflection of her power sent Mo staggering backward, magical energy rebounding through her body like an electric shock. In the split second of her disorientation, three professors simultaneously launched containment hexes that connected with Julian's body in rapid succession—sickly green, blood-red, and midnight blue magic tearing through him like shrapnel.

But where the spells should have immobilized him, they seemed to sink into his flesh, leaving glowing scars that pulsed with unnatural light. Julian staggered but remained standing, a strange smile spreading across his face.

"Side effect of being a test subject for years," he gasped, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "You build up immunities."

The Headmaster's expression darkened as he raised his hands, ancient power gathering like a thunderhead. "No more tests, then. Just termination."

But before the spell could launch, Julian slammed something against the floor—a small vial that shattered on impact, releasing thick, choking smoke that expanded with unnatural speed. Students screamed and scattered as the gray cloud engulfed half the ballroom. His other hand was now a ball of light, impossible to look at directly.

When the smoke cleared moments later, Julian was gone, leaving nothing but a smear of blood and the lingering scent of ozone and betrayal.

Headmaster Ashenfall turned to Mo, his ageless eyes unreadable. "Interesting attempt, Lady Nightshade. Your succubus abilities should have subdued him easily. Unless..." His gaze sharpened. "How long has he been building resistance to your particular influence?"

The implication hung in the air, heavy with suspicion. Mo's cheeks burned with humiliation—not just at the failure of her powers, but at the realization that Julian had likely been preparing for this moment throughout their relationship, deliberately exposing himself to her influence to build immunity.

"I didn't know," she said, her voice hollow. "About any of it."

"That," the Headmaster said coldly, "is becoming increasingly difficult to believe."

Before Mo could defend herself, a commotion erupted from the other side of the ballroom.

Mo turned to see Nyx reappearing from behind the crowd, but not as either the masculine figure in the white suit or the feminine form in the midnight gown.

"Are all of you going to give me a break?" Mo exclaimed. "No, I mean, seriously!?!"