Villain of Fate: The Tyrant System-Chapter 22: The Villain in Her Boudoir
The Villain in Her Boudoir
Not far past noon, Bianca De Dominicis tilted her head back, eyes narrowing skyward with quiet amusement. A flicker - sharp and red - lit up within them like sparks catching cloth. At the corners of her mouth, something sly took shape, slow and deliberate. It wasn’t quite laughter, more like an invitation wrapped in silence.
"Julian D’Aurelius, go ahead and hit me. Let’s see where you aim."
That edge in her voice didn’t quite hide the smirk beneath it, a challenge slipped between syllables while she stayed perfectly still. A kind of quiet push pulled him forward, mischievous but exact. Her words snapped just enough to make movement feel inevitable, though her posture gave nothing away.
A jolt ran through Julian, her words hitting hard and sudden. Wide-eyed now, his gaze held shock tangled with doubt. What gall she had - this woman, so bold it stung.
That little grin of hers grew wider when she saw how he reacted, secretly loving the mess she’d just caused. A guy so set in his ways, so full of himself - the kind who acts like he’s untouchable - now squirming, ego nicked.
Mumbling under his breath, Julian held back a sigh. For someone so sweet... one wrong move and tears would follow. Not happening.
"Stop it. What do you really want? Just give me a straight answer."
Firmness had left his voice, replaced by something raw - each word frayed under the pressure of what might come. The leak could end everything, no warning needed.
Damn it... have you ever seen a villain kiss the male lead’s harem and live to tell the tale? he thought, tension tightening his jaw.
No, a cuckold could never stand against the pure love War God!
Bianca’s smirk widened at his inner turmoil, her satisfaction growing. Julian’s attempts at maintaining dignity only made him more amusing.
"Come on, follow me inside."
Her fingers tightened just once, guiding his steps without a word. The room pulled them in, quiet and dim. Power hummed under her skin as she watched him follow.
Head spinning, Julian dug in his heels - no way could he agree. His whole frame tensed up, refusal pulsing through each limb. A deep inner voice roared: danger ahead.
Fine, if you won’t move, I’ll drag you - just step in already," Bianca shot back, tone sharp but curled at the edges with teasing.
Julian paused, torn by stubbornness yet pulled toward what made sense. All right - stepping in won’t kill me. Beats letting that clip spread where I can’t stop it.
Fight for what matters? That’s how it has to be. Should she move against me, every breath will stand guard. Not a single step back - this line holds.
A shadow moves where power talks - no girl sets the rules here. My name means something, even if she thinks otherwise. Respect isn’t given, it’s taken - and kept. She pushes once too often, forgets who stands in the dark. Quiet strength doesn’t beg, it answers. Her glare changes nothing. This game has only one top player.
Bianca heard him mumbling, then let out a quiet laugh - almost like music under her breath. He actually believes nothing can touch him. That kind of certainty? It’s sweet, really.
Stuff piled up everywhere inside her private room. Piled on the couch, garments spilled off the mattress. Books rested crooked near the wall. Little things sat just where they’d been left.
A shape near the chair held his gaze - black hosiery draped careless, half-falling. Hers, then. The space spoke mess, yet something hummed beneath it.
Wait - those stockings have a trim of black lace? Not awful. Might’ve turned out uglier.
Fishnet stockings? Really? White ones suit me better. That detail, though - best left unmentioned.
"Why is your room so messy? Can’t you get someone to clean it up?" he asked, forcing a stern tone, though internally he struggled to maintain composure.
It made no sense to him. His own dogs followed without question - so why would she even think of defiance?
Funny how timing works," Bianca said, eyes locked on his face, a soft grin shaping her words. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎
Frowning slightly, Julian stood still. Her request hits like a misplaced note - clean your space? That thought circles, slow and heavy.
"Hurry up. Others don’t even get the chance to tidy up here. Besides, you helped me clean back in college, didn’t you?" she added, eyes glinting with mischief.
A soft laugh curled through the room - Bianca’s, light but sharp, like a fox that already knew the crow would let go. The sound settled just above silence.
"Fine then," Julian muttered, nose twitching, holding back a grin while he slowly tidied up the space around him.
It’s just cleaning... better than other... more compromising things, he reasoned, though unease crept in.
But wait... stockings... could they carry foot odor? What if... no, I’ll wash my hands thoroughly afterwards.
Bianca, eavesdropping on his thoughts with a sly grin, suddenly frowned. Did he just think I have... foot odor?
She snorted and demanded, "Since we broke up, besides being Selene Aurevale’s pawn, have you been involved with other girls?"
Julian shook his head, smiling wryly. "I’m not Selene’s pawn. That was just to make it easier to... interact with other girls. Honestly, I have seven girlfriends now."
He knew women hated philandering men, so he decided to smear himself upfront.
Shocked, aren’t you? Disgusted? Haha... I’ve been busy being a ’simp’ these past years, haven’t even held a girl’s hand!
If you’re unhappy, kick me out. Remember, a man like me—rich, handsome—can’t be trusted!
Bianca’s expression shifted from mock shock to amusement. "Really? I didn’t expect you to be such a playboy. Perhaps I misjudged you."
Julian’s lips twitched, folding a blanket with exaggerated care. "You did misjudge me. Chasing you back then? Purely for fun."
Alright... you can get mad now. Kick me out already. Why torture me further? he thought, sighing inwardly.
"Oh? So what did you see in me back then?" Bianca asked, teasing and genuinely curious.
"You were... easy to fool," Julian replied, switching effortlessly into mockery mode, his tone a mixture of pride and provocation.
