Transmigrated as the Villain Between the Heroine and the Villainess

Days passed.

Azrael stood before the Halloway Mansion, his next so-called home.

It wasn't a castle of stone or some ancient fortress.

It was something else entirely clean, sharp, and painfully modern.

White walls stood high and smooth, marked with thin glowing blue lines that moved slowly like energy flowing through them.

The whole place gave off a steady light, and the air carried a soft sound of machines working.

Big dark glass panels covered the front, reflecting the bright sky and the tall metal towers of Elarion.

Floating lights moved along the path, shining with a faint blue glow.

It didn't look like a noble's house at all. It looked more like the main office of a huge company back in earth.

He stood there quietly, hands in his pockets, replaying his last conversation with his sister, the argument that ended with her smug smile and his defeat.

He had begged her not to send him here.

He told her he'd rather stay at the academy dorms. He said it would help him grow stronger, more independent. He even said it would be better to live with Quill, where he could train and work without distraction.

She rejected every single argument.

Her excuse? She had already taken too many favors from Quill and didn't want to owe him any more.

He knew she was lying.

She didn't care about debt of favours. She never did.

'She just wants me to suffer,' he thought bitterly.

He took a long breath. The air in Elarion always carried a metallic tang and heavy with Aether.

'Let's see what kind of nightmare this turns into.'

He stepped toward the gate, where a vampire guard stood in sleek black armor. His red eyes glowed faintly under the visor.

"Tell the owner her new houseguest has arrived," Azrael said flatly.

The guard said nothing, only pressed something on his wristband. The gates slid open with a soft hiss.

He followed as the guard led him through a manicured courtyard lit by hovering crystals and into a long glass hall.

Inside, everything gleamed. The air was cold. Silent. Too perfect.

A woman sat elegantly on a low, white sofa, legs crossed, a tablet hovering near her side. She didn't need to speak for him to feel the weight of her authority.

Ilythia Halloway.

She was beautiful but not in a soft or gentle way. It was the kind of beauty old hunters might have had, deadly and cold. Her skin was pale and smooth like marble.

Her silver hair shone faintly with a touch of violet. And her red eyes, calm and deep, looked like they could see right through anyone.

"So," she said at last, her voice smooth and melodic but colder than steel. "You're the little troublemaker. Az… Azrael, was it?"

"Yes," he said quietly.

She stood up smoothly, every movement calm and controlled. It almost looked like she was gliding instead of walking. She stopped close to him, and he caught a faint scent of roses.

"Listen carefully, boy."

Her tone turned sharp. "This house is not a sanctuary. You're here because I made a promise to your sister a promise that already feels like a mistake. If you cause trouble, if you throw tantrums, or do anything that annoys me, I'll throw you out myself."

She stepped closer. "And one more thing. My daughter lives here. She's naïve, kind, and doesn't know the kind of monsters that walk this world. If you so much as disturb her, if I even suspect you're manipulating her…"

Her crimson eyes flashed. "I'll show you what cruelty really means. Consider this your first and last warning."

She gestured to a maid in a black-and-silver uniform standing by the wall. "Show him to his room."

Azrael turned to follow, but before they reached the corridor, a new voice echoed down the stairs.

"Mama!"

A girl came running down a crystal staircase, barefoot and dressed in a loose, gray pajama set dotted with tiny cartoon bats.

Her hair soft silver, just like her mother's was tied in a messy ponytail.

Selyne Halloway.

The heroine of the next arc.

She looked small. Her pale cheeks were still puffy from sleep, and her eyes crimson but softer than her mother's—were wide with curiosity.

"When are we leaving for shopping?" she asked eagerly. "The first day of the academy is tomorrow, and I still need accessories!"

Ilythia didn't even look at her daughter. "We're leaving in an hour. I was waiting for our guest. Now that he's here, we can go."

Selyne blinked, confused. "Guest? Oh! You mean the human boy you told me about?"

Her gaze darted across the hall until it landed on Azrael.

She froze.

Her mouth opened slightly. She looked at her mother, silently asking if she was right.

Ilythia gave one slow, cold nod.

Selyne's eyes widened even more. "O-oh! Um, hello!" she stammered, quickly bowing. "You must be Azrael! I... uh... welcome to our home!"

Her words came out too fast, her voice breaking halfway.

She laughed awkwardly. "I didn't mean to call you human like that earlier! It's not an insult or anything! It's just… you are human, right? I mean—uh—you know what I mean!"

Azrael blinked once. "…Yeah. I get it."

Behind her, Ilythia's lips twitched slightly disapproval or amusement, he couldn't tell.

Selyne continued, smiling nervously. "It'll be nice having someone my age in the house! And we'll be at the academy together too!"

She held out her small hand. "Friends?"

Azrael hesitated. His eyes flicked toward Ilythia, who gave him a silent, murderous look that clearly meant shake her hand or I'll end you and like shake her hand I will again end you.

He sighed and reached out. Their hands met. Hers was soft, cold, and trembling.

Selyne's eyes lit up instantly. "I hope we can get along!"

Azrael just nodded. "Yeah… sure."

Ilythia interrupted before the moment could stretch. "Selyne, get ready. We're leaving soon."

"Yes, Mom!" Selyne squeaked, darting off with a small wave.

Azrael turned slightly toward Ilythia, who was still watching him with that same emotionless stare. She didn't need to say anything the message was clear. Stay away from her.

His room was large, minimalist, and spotless.

There was a big black bed in the middle of the room. The walls were shiny and silver, and one side had a tall window.

A small glass table stood near the corner, and a big cupboard was beside it. Everything looked clean and fancy, like it cost a lot of money.

No one helped him unpack. Not that he expected any help.

He sighed, a long, weary sound. 'I don't mind. The luxury of the Ashveil mansion was making me soft. This feels… familiar.'

Night crept in fast.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

'No entrance exam for me,' he thought, half smirking. 'Celestria must've bullied someone into skipping that.'

But Kaelen and Seraphina… they'd be taking theirs soon. He had no doubt they'd pass. They always did. The story needed them to.

Still, their time of easy victories was over.

'They'll learn soon enough what real power feels like,' he thought coldly. 'And what it costs.'

He closed his eyes, and faces began to flicker through his mind Sebastian, Marius, Theron, Orion, Lyra… and finally, Celestria, barely surviving.

Then Selvara.

Her smile. Her last words. The warmth that faded in his arms.

He clenched his fists.

'I can't rely on anyone anymore. Not the hero. Not the system. Not fate.'

His voice came out as a quiet whisper. "This isn't Kaelen's story anymore. It's mine."

He stood up and walked to the window, looking at the glittering city outside.

'I'll grow stronger,' he swore. 'I'll steal, lie, cheat whatever it takes. I'll be the evil they all think I am. If that's what it costs to win, so be it.'

He tilted his head slightly upward, whispering, "Selvara… I'll bring you back."

Silence answered.

Then his throat burned. He looked around for water, but there wasn't even a glass.

He let out a sharp hiss. "They didn't even give me a water bottle. Great hospitality."

He left the room, wandering down the dim, silent corridors.

The Halloway Mansion at night was unnervingly quiet. No footsteps. No servants. Only the faint hum of Aether running through the walls.

He kept walking, trying to find the kitchen and also clear his head. The halls were all white and looked the same, going on and on like they would never end.

Every turn looked the same.

"This place is a maze," he muttered. "Figures."

Then he saw it.

At the far end of the hallway, a faint light spilled through a half-open door.

And then he saw her.

A girl in a light white nightgown stood by the open door. Her silver hair shined softly in the light. She didn't move, just stood there, peeking into the room through the small space.

It was Selyne.

Her cheeks were flushed pink. Her breath came out shaky. She had one hand pressed to her mouth as if trying to keep quiet.

Azrael blinked. His first thought was simple. What the hell is she doing?

He stepped closer, quietly.

From inside the room, faint noises echoed soft, rhythmic, and muffled.

Selyne froze, her face turning red. Her hand clenched at the edge of her gown, trembling.

Azrael's eyes narrowed slightly. He could guess what was happening inside that room… but he stayed silent.

'Oh no,' he thought dryly. 'You've got to be kidding me.'

The light flickered again. The sounds continued.

And there she stood frozen mid-peek, caught in a moment she clearly shouldn't be seeing.

Azrael stared quietly, expression blank.

'This mansion,' he thought, 'is going to be hell.'