Transmigrated as the Villain Between the Heroine and the Villainess

The silence in the room after the princess left was a heavy blanket. Azrael's warning still hung in the air.

Elvara stood by the door, her mind trying to process the whirlwind of the last few minutes.

Finally, she took a deep breath, her shoulders straightening. She closed the door with a soft click and turned to face him.

The fear in her eyes was gone, replaced by a firm, unwavering resolve.

"I wanted to talk to you," she said, her voice clear and steady. "I have been wanting to talk to you this whole time."

He watched her, his own expression unreadable. He simply nodded, waiting.

"I have so many questions," she continued, moving closer to his bed. "And now that I am a student, now that I am no longer your wife… I am not afraid."

"So you are going to answer me, Azrael." She said his name without the honorific, a small act of defiance.

"Why?" she asked, the single word sharp and direct. "Why are you doing all of this? The fights, the duel, annulling our marriage… none of it makes sense."

He remained silent, his violet eyes studying her. He saw the genuine confusion and the simmering hatred, but also a flicker of curiosity.

"The old Azrael was a fool," he said finally, his voice a low rasp. "He was weak, arrogant, and blind. He saw you as a possession. He was pathetic."

Elvara was taken aback by his blunt self-assessment. "So you admit it? You admit you were cruel?"

"Cruelty is a tool for the incompetent," he replied, his tone cold. "The old Azrael was incompetent. His methods were inefficient."

'That's not a lie,' he thought. 'It's just not the whole truth.'

"So this is all just a new strategy?" she pressed, her eyes narrowing. "You fight a duel you can't win, you give me my freedom… what is the goal, Azrael?"

He let out a short, dry laugh, which turned into a pained cough. He clutched his ribs.

"Sympathy?" he managed to say, a bitter smirk on his lips. "Look at me, Elvara. Do I look like someone who wants your pity?"

He met her gaze, his own eyes hard as amethysts. "I did what I did to cut away my weaknesses. The old Azrael was chained down by a foolish obsession and a political marriage."

"So I was a liability?" she asked, a flash of hurt and anger in her eyes. "Just a piece on your game board that you decided to remove?"

"Yes," he said, the word sharp and honest. He saw her flinch, but continued. "This marriage was a chain my family put on me. A political move I never agreed to."

His words were cold, villainous, and logical. But then, his expression softened by a fraction.

"But that doesn't mean it wasn't also the right thing to do for you," he added, his voice quieter. "You have your own power, Elvara. A significant power."

"It was being wasted, chained to a pathetic fool like me. Staying with me would have destroyed you."

She stared at him, completely thrown off balance. It was a confusing mix of selfish strategy and… was it care?

"You… you knew about my Aether?" she whispered, her hand going to her chest.

"I am not as ignorant as I once was," he said evasively. "Now you are free. You can live in the academy and make your own path. Isn't that what you wanted?"

She was silent for a long time, her mind trying to piece together the puzzle of this new Azrael.

His actions, as selfish as he claimed them to be, had resulted in her freedom.

"I still don't trust you," she said finally.

"Good," he replied instantly. "You'd be a fool if you did."

With that, she seemed to run out of questions. She gave him one last, long, searching look, then turned and walked out of the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, Azrael's demeanor changed. The cold, calculating mask fell away, replaced by a wide, triumphant grin.

He let his head fall back onto the pillows, a genuine, relieved laugh escaping his lips.

He looked at the system interface, which only he could see, and focused on his balance.

[Available Balance: 10,010 P]

'I'm rich,' he thought, the feeling of pure joy washing away the exhaustion and the pain.

His eyes, filled with a new, greedy light, scanned the system interface. He wanted to be powerful. He needed to be powerful.

His gaze drifted from the shop to the other option. The one he had dismissed as a fool's errand.

[Gamble of Fates: The Lucky Spin]

[Cost per Spin: 10,000 P.]

His heart started to beat faster. '10,000 points,' he thought. 'That's almost everything I have. Should I… should I go all in?'

His mind flashed back to the countless novels he had read. The desperate main character betting his last coin on a gamble and winning a god-tier ability.

'Maybe… maybe it could happen to me.'

Then, a cold dose of reality hit him. He pulled up his status window and looked at one specific attribute.

[LCK (Luck): 5 / 100]

He let out a long, weary sigh. 'My luck is cursed. Literally.' The chances of him winning anything good were probably zero.

He would lose everything he had just bled for.

His mother's voice echoed in his memory, a gentle but firm warning. 'Kenji, gambling is a fool's game. Hard work is the only path you can trust.'

He knew she was right. The logical, optimal approach was to save his points. To wait for a better opportunity.

But his hand was itching. His mind was fixated on the spin. The allure of that one-in-a-million chance was a powerful, intoxicating poison.

He stared at the glowing blue screen, his thumb hovering over the mental command.

His heart was pounding, a frantic rhythm of hope against reason.

'No gambling,' his mother's voice whispered.

'But what if this is my only chance?' a desperate, greedy part of him screamed back.

He shut his eyes, his mind filled with worry and hope.