Villain of Fate: The Tyrant System-Chapter 1: A Birthday Banquet Beneath Gilded Lights

A Birthday Banquet Beneath Gilded Lights

In the heart of Europe lies Valemont City, a sprawling city where polished stone underfoot shone like liquid glass beneath gray skies. Marble lanes stretched wide, mirroring both grandeur and time worn deep into their surface. Perched above it all sat an estate unmatched in splendor - the crown jewel among homes. This was no ordinary residence but the domain of the D’Aurelius kin, rulers of fortune long before modern memory began. Their name carried weight because money had flowed through their bloodlines longer than anyone could recall.

Fires of illumination swallowed the property after dark.

Lights hung in clusters, dripping warmth onto marble below. Guests moved through the room, dresses whispering on stone. The air carried voices layered soft, not loud but full of weight. This night belonged to the head of house D’Aurelius, honored by time and title. Every face present held influence, earned or inherited, spoken little but known well.

A sudden stiffness took hold of the young man at the core of everything. He stood there, good-looking but rigid, like something unseen had seized him.

A sharp frown cut across his face. Surprise lit up in his yellow stare. Hair, dark and sleek but hinting at chaos, stirred when his frame shuddered under sudden weight.

"Damn it."

Out it came, the moment his guard dropped. A breath too late to pull it back.

A sudden rush hit Julian D’Aurelius, sharp and strange, flooding his thoughts with scenes he never lived. Images of people, bonds, pressure, shame - none belonged to him, still they burned bright. These pieces slipped into place as if heat-shaped steel settling into form.

Stillness came. His breath turned thin then.

A sudden rush of memories hit him hard. Yet, he adjusted fast - too fast. Then came the pressure, heavy and cold, right across his ribs.

Back then, he’d dive into web novels every day - tales about rising through the ranks, sweet comebacks, lives turned around. Maybe eight hundred. Could have been a thousand. Numbers blurred after so many years.

Lately, way too lately, he got pulled inside something like that.

A Tyrant System.

This cursed thing had thrown him into popular feel-good novels and forced him to play the villain. Survive key plot points, earn rewards. Make it to the final Chapter, and he’d return to his original world with all the accumulated wealth, power, and benefits.

It sounded generous.

It was a lie.

Every single time, the system dropped him straight into hell-mode difficulty.

The eighth novel he’d entered? He’d been a lowly security guard whose only role was to block the protagonist from entering a company where the heroine worked. His reward?

One punch.

Glass shattered. Bones broke. Instant death.

The one before that was even worse.

The protagonist had been a once-in-a-millennium God King, reborn after a failed tribulation, cultivating in the modern world—someone who could swat missiles out of the sky.

Julian hadn’t even finished opening his mouth before his head was slapped clean off.

A master leads you to the door... and you get shot at the entrance.

That saying might as well have been engraved into the Tyrant System’s interface.

"System," Julian demanded silently, jaw tightening. "What damn book is this?"

A cold, emotionless voice responded within his mind.

"This world corresponds to the novel ’Obsidian King: Sovereign of the Gilded City.’ Current timeline: Chapter Fifty-Seven."

Julian’s heart sank.

With the system’s prompt, the plot rushed back to him in brutal clarity.

Another standard wish-fulfillment story.

The protagonist—Evan—was born into a powerful family in Valcenza. At the age of five, his entire clan was wiped out. An old man spirited him overseas, training him into the world’s most terrifying assassin.

He later founded the strongest Freelance Warrior organization on the planet—Obsidian Wing—and earned a title that shook the underworld:

The Obsidian King.

Medical genius. Gambling prodigy. Artifact appraiser. Combat monster.

There was nothing he couldn’t do.

Now, Evan had returned to Valemont under a false identity, ostensibly to investigate the massacre of his family. Along the way, he would charm dozens of women, build an unstoppable harem, and climb to the absolute pinnacle of life.

And Julian?

Julian was the eldest young master of the D’Aurelius Family, rulers of Valemont’s economic sphere, with assets surpassing trillions.

On paper, it was the dream role.

In reality?

He was just another stepping stone.

"No matter how noble the villain’s status is," Julian thought bitterly, "he’s still meant to be crushed."

He swallowed hard.

"Chapter fifty-seven..." His face drained of color. "Damn it. I’m going to die again, aren’t I?"

According to the plot, tonight—this very banquet—was the turning point.

The D’Aurelius patriarch’s birthday celebration would also serve as Julian’s engagement ceremony.

The bride-to-be was Selene Aurevale.

The Aurevale Family ranked among Valemont’s four great houses—last among them, but still formidable.

Julian, the original owner of this body, had been hopelessly devoted to Selene. For three years, he had exhausted family resources, bent his pride, and lowered his head again and again.

And received nothing in return.

No smile. No warmth. Not even courtesy.

Unable to bear watching their heir degrade himself any further, the D’Aurelius elders had forced this engagement.

In the novel, Evan would crash the banquet.

Selene would be taken away.

And Julian—desperate, foolish, loyal to the wrong woman—would be kicked into a vegetative state.

He would die shortly after.

"This is toxic," Julian cursed inwardly, fingers curling.

What kind of idiot villain was this?

An Oxford graduate. Handsome. Worth trillions.

Simping for a woman who treated him like air?

If he’d been worth even a fraction of this wealth in his old life, he’d have been cruising through nightclubs in a luxury car, not begging for scraps of affection.

"No. I need to change this."

Julian lifted his gaze and scanned the banquet hall.

Guests filled every corner. Laughter echoed softly. Glasses clinked. Power and politeness danced together in practiced harmony.

Then—

His eyes locked onto a young man seated quietly in the corner.

Black hair. Black eyes. A calm, unreadable expression. One hand loosely holding a glass of red wine.

Evan.

At present, Evan’s identity was nothing more than Selene Aurevale’s bodyguard.

A bodyguard.

Julian almost laughed. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Everyone who read these novels knew the pattern.

"Fine," Julian muttered to himself. "I won’t get engaged."

Out of nowhere, she came toward him - dressed in blue like the evening sky. Her steps slowed as the fabric whispered against the floor.

A sudden chill slipped through the space between breaths.

She was breathtaking.

Midnight poured down her back in strands so long they seemed endless. Sharp blue eyes stared out, cold and fixed on something far away. A narrow frame carried softness where it mattered, each line fitting together without effort. Elegance held everything tight, never spilling too much. Allure sat low, barely moving, felt more than seen.

Floating through the room like a figure unshaken by second guesses, she moved as if mirrors always told her the truth. Her stance held quiet certainty - no asking permission to take up space.

This was her - Selene Aurevale.

There she stood, facing Julian. Her eyes showed nothing but a quiet annoyance, the kind saved for things you can’t skip. Stillness hung between them, sharp and thin.

"Young Master D’Aurelius," she said calmly, voice cool and precise, "please stop bothering me. Let’s call off the engagement. I won’t agree to it."

Julian had already made his decision.

He smiled.

"I agree."

The words fell cleanly, without hesitation.

Selene froze.

Her eyes widened, disbelief flashing across her face. For a moment, she wondered if she had misheard.

Before she could respond, a sarcastic voice echoed in her ears.

[No engagement? I thank your ancestors for eighteen generations. Your lack of virtue—I’ll repay it in the next life. Hurry up and elope with your Evan. Hilarious. He needs you to fill out his harem.]

Selene frowned sharply and glanced around.

Who said that?

The voice sounded exactly like Julian’s.

But his lips hadn’t moved.

"What?" Julian tilted his head slightly, golden eyes calm. "Didn’t you want to call it off? Let’s inform the elders."

As long as the engagement was canceled, Evan would have no excuse to target him.

Julian’s plan was simple.

Avoid the Obsidian King. Survive. Live like a rich, handsome man until the novel ended.

Perfect.

"...Alright."

Selene nodded stiffly and followed him down the corridor.

Julian walked ahead, posture relaxed. Outwardly composed.

Inside, he was celebrating.

[Finally cutting ties with this foolish woman. Now Evan won’t have a reason to bother me. I just need to survive until the end. What a pity, though—the so-called top beauty of Valemont, reduced to part of a bodyguard’s harem, dragging the Aurevale Family into ruin. Truly a brainless feel-good novel.]

The voice echoed again.

This time, Selene was certain.

It was Julian.

They were alone in the corridor.

And Selene Aurevale was not known as Valemont’s top beauty on looks alone.

Her intelligence was just as sharp.

Understanding dawned.

A chill passed through her eyes.

"Evan...?" she thought.

He was the bodyguard she had hired after being harassed by thugs—her savior in a moment of danger. His strength had impressed her. His presence had felt reassuring.

Since then, he had helped her countless times. They had grown close.

But now—

A harem?

Using her?

Dragging her family down?

Her fingers tightened slightly at her side.

She, Selene Aurevale—proud daughter of heaven—becoming a disposable piece in a bodyguard’s collection?

Disgust rose in her chest, cold and sharp.

In that instant, the image of Evan darkened in her heart.