Transmigrated as the Villain Between the Heroine and the Villainess

The silence in the Ashveil mansion was heavy, like a tombstone pressing on the chest.

Azrael sat in one of the grand but unused drawing rooms with Celestria.

Dust clung to the velvet chairs.

The fireplace was cold, yet Azrael stared at it, lost in a whirlwind of questions and dread.

Celestria tapped her fingers on the armrest. Tap. Tap.

Her face was calm, but her movements showed impatience.

Then the air shifted.

A faint static crackled. The hair on Azrael's arms stood.

The massive double doors opened.

A man entered.

Azrael recognized him instantly.

From the sharp cut of his black-and-gold clothing, to the way he walked like the floor belonged to him, to the stillness of his posture.

Quill Var Emreis.

A dragonkin.

The prodigy.

His steps were soundless, smooth.

Silver hair tied in a neat tail.

His features sharp, aristocratic, handsome.

But it was his eyes that revealed him.

Cold, piercing gold. Pupils thin like a predator's.

And if the light caught just right, faint iridescent scales shimmered near them.

He bowed stiffly to Celestria.

"Senior Celestria."

Then he sat on the couch opposite them. His back was ramrod straight. His expression—pure indifference.

Azrael noticed the shift at once.

Celestria, usually an ice matriarch, melted.

Her voice softened, her eyes lit gently.

"Thank you so much for coming, Quill. You are a life saver. You are helping me, even knowing that if anyone discovers this, you will be in big, big trouble."

Quill smiled faintly, though his smile was hollow.

"Don't thank me," he said. His voice was smooth but carried no warmth.

"You mentioned demon involvement, yes?"

For the first time, his golden eyes turned to Azrael. They were sharp, calculating, cold.

"Even if no one else believes you, I will, Senior," he said to Celestria.

"You can trust me. No one can touch him while I am here."

His gaze hardened.

"I will carve steel into his spirit."

Azrael's chest tightened. A chill ran down his spine.

'This looks bad.'

He glanced at Celestria again.

Her expression, open and soft. Too soft.

'She knows he loves her,' Azrael realized. 'And she's using it.'

Quill Var Emreis.

The legend.

He was younger than Celestria, but a monster.

The ace of his year, his power spoken of like myth.

'If I ranked him,' Azrael thought, 'he would be in the top five of Elarion. Which means top five in the world. With Marius gone… maybe even top three.'

And even before Marius fell, Azrael knew Quill could have beaten him.

That was the terrifying truth.

But strength wasn't his only trait.

He was a complicated character.

He had been in love with Celestria from the moment he met her.

Yet he never confessed.

Maybe fear of rejection.

So instead, he wore the mask of a cold noble.

He thought she liked this side of him more.

'But behind that mask,' Azrael thought, 'I know exactly what he's thinking.'

Quill kept his posture perfect, his face calm.

But in his chest his heart screamed.

'So pretty. So cute. I want to hug her.'

He forced the thought down with a cough.

"Senior," he said, his tone icy, "as I told you before, I will hide him in my farmhouse. Far from the academy. He will be under my surveillance day and night. I will train him myself. So you need not worry."

"But what about the academy?" Celestria asked, her voice laced with a perfect concern. "If you are gone for so long…"

Quill raised his hand.

"I already applied for leave. Two months."

Her eyes widened.

"Two months? Are you sure? You are the Vice Headmaster. Without you—"

"Don't worry," he cut her off, cold and sharp. "It is my choice. I want to do it."

"But why?" she pressed, leaning forward, her lips curved in a picture of innocent confusion.

"Why go so far for me?"

Azrael nearly laughed.

'She's playing him like a fiddle.'

Quill's throat locked.

"Because… I…" His tongue failed.

His lips parted, but the words died.

He coughed again, hiding it.

"My gut feeling tells me," he said, weakly. "It will benefit me."

Inside his skull, his real voice screamed.

'Of course it will benefit me! First, I get to see you. Then, helping you might bring me closer. And training your brother? That gives me an advantage in the future.'

Celestria tilted her head.

"I don't see how you will benefit from this."

Quill scrambled for an answer.

"If demons come for him, then we will have proof. And since he is under my watch, exposing them will help my noble standing."

Azrael sighed in his mind.

'At least make it sound convincing.'

Celestria smiled. A warm, grateful smile.

Quill's heart skipped.

"Thank you, Quill," she said softly. "I don't know how I will ever repay you."

Quill froze, then forced himself to speak.

"Well… if you really want to repay me…"

His golden eyes flickered. His voice steady, but his insides screamed.

"Then you can come to my place."

Azrael gagged inside.

'Pathetic.'

Quill cleared his throat fast.

"I mean, when you come to fetch him. After the two months. It may be hard for me to release him without raising suspicion. But you have a permit to enter Elarion. And under someone's patronage, I can arrange it for you."

His voice stayed cold.

But in his head, he celebrated.

'I nailed it. Two birds with one stone. And the reward—her beauty, again.'

"I can do this, at least," Celestria replied. "I cannot be more of a burden. Also, plans have changed. It won't be a full two months. It will be fifty days now."

Quill's heart jumped.

'Fifty days. Ten days less until I see her. Perfect.'

Then his gaze shifted to Azrael.

'Shit. Ten days less to make him into something useful.'

He was still processing when Celestria rose to leave.

"I should take my leave, Quill. My people need me. If you have any trouble, contact me."

Quill froze.

'Contact you? How? Will you give me your number? Ah, shit. No phones in this world.'

He laughed, a fake mask plastered on.

"Trouble? What trouble could reach me? Hahaha."

Celestria's smile lingered.

"Then I will go. Take care of my brother. And Quill… take care of yourself too."

Those words pierced him like a blade.

He watched her walk away.

His eyes, desperate, pleaded silently.

'Please don't go. Stay. Talk more.'

Then he looked at Azrael.

'Say something, idiot. A goodbye. Anything.'

Azrael only stared back.

'Where the hell am I stuck now?'

The doors closed.

The mask shattered.

Quill's eyes sharpened, cold gold burning into Azrael.

"We have less time than expected," he said, voice like steel.

"We cannot waste it on useless talk. We leave now."