Villain of Fate: The Tyrant System-Chapter 37: A Mask Slips in the Back Seat

A Mask Slips in the Back Seat

Because he had been drinking, Julian D’Aurelius called two bodyguards from the D’Aurelius household to drive him home.

Don’t drink and drive.

Every urban power-fantasy novel had at least one villain who died in a stupid drunk-driving accident.

To survive until the end, you needed more than strategy.You needed common sense.

When a black Rolls-Royce pulled up in front of MoonDrift Club, Julian carefully carried Selene Aurevale into the back seat.

One of the bodyguards stepped out to take Julian’s McLaren Senna back to the D’Aurelius estate.

Two luxury cars gliding one after the other through the night streets of Valemont—smooth engines humming beneath the city lights—made Julian lean back slightly.

Being rich really was unfair.

If Evan didn’t exist in this world, life would be perfect.

Selene, drunk and flushed, looked nothing like the cold Ice Queen of the Aurevale Group.

Her porcelain face was tinted pink. Her lashes fluttered faintly. Her usually sharp blue eyes were half-lidded and unfocused.

She looked... soft.

Cute.

Dangerously so.

Suddenly, she giggled.

Then she tilted her head and let it drop onto Julian’s shoulder.

"Move aside."

Julian pushed her head away without ceremony.

The bodyguard in the driver’s seat nearly swerved the car into the river when he caught the scene in the rearview mirror.

Good heavens.

Was this really the same young master?

For three years, he had chased Selene like a devout pilgrim worshipping a goddess.

Relentless.

Shameless.

Even the most loyal dog would admire that level of dedication.

Some of the guards had whispered stories.

That the young master once waited in the rain for hours just to deliver a cup of hot milk.

That he had been seen kneeling to tie Miss Aurevale’s shoe.

Once, patriarch Gary D’Aurelius had been so furious at his son’s lack of dignity that he beat him with a belt until it snapped.

Julian had been hospitalized.

The next day, he escaped the hospital with IV tape still on his arm, holding roses, waiting outside Selene’s office.

And now?

He was pushing her away like an inconvenience.

Selene, having been nudged aside, didn’t get angry. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

She just giggled again.

Then she leaned right back against him.

In a soft, syrup-sweet voice—so unlike her usual calm command—she murmured,

"I just want to stick to you."

"???"

Julian froze.

Then something clicked.

When Selene had been very young, her mother died of cancer.

Her father, Shan Aurevale, had been busy rebuilding the Aurevale household, carrying the burden of legacy and reputation.

He was stern.

Demanding.

Rarely present.

Under that pressure and loneliness, Selene had wrapped herself in ice.

Cold. Independent. Untouchable.

A mask forged from pride.

It protected her.

It also isolated her.

But when she drank—

The mask cracked.

And beneath it was someone unexpectedly clingy.

Fragile.

Like a small dog who finally found someone safe enough to curl up beside.

But—

Why are you showing this side to me?!

Julian felt his scalp tingle.

"Damn, why are you getting all touchy-feely?"

Selene had started shifting closer, her body pressing into his side.

He tried to push her away again.

Bad idea.

He had overestimated himself.

Thanks to the brainless author’s original settings, Julian—despite being rich, handsome, and "dangerous"—had zero combat ability.

No martial arts.

No special training.

Just expensive suits and good genetics.

Selene, on the other hand, had learned basic martial arts in her youth.

Not flashy techniques—just enough to handle two or three grown men if necessary.

Julian’s attempt to outmuscle her was laughable.

She simply leaned harder.

Without thinking, she moved into him, rising just enough to settle partway across his legs.

A faint sag tugged at the Rolls-Royce’s frame. It settled into its springs like a slow breath.

A sharp sound came from Julian as he pulled air into his lungs.

Fingers of warmth traced the line where her legs met his side. A quiet closeness settled in the space between them.

Fingers brushed the back of his shoulder as she leaned in. Her hands found their place without effort, resting just above where his collar meets skin.

Fabric so thin it could barely hold back warmth. Heat moved slow, crossing from skin to cloth. The air between them felt heavier now. Dress offered almost no barrier at all.

Fingers brushing the edge of his collar, she laughed - close enough to catch the shift in his breath.

Her voice slipped through the air, soft and close. The scent of champagne curled between them. Just one kiss, her words floated near his ear

Julian’s brain short-circuited.

He clenched his teeth, whispering through them like smoke. The words slipped out quiet, meant only for her ears. Loud noise might reach the guard nearby. His jaw stayed tight, barely moving.

Her face stayed blank when he said it. Not a flicker gave away she caught the edge in his voice.

Up through his hair went her fingers, slow. A quiet movement, then tangled in the strands she stayed.

"I love you," she mumbled softly, eyes unfocused. "I want to stick with you... hug you... forever..."

The words were slurred.

But they weren’t fake.

Julian’s chest tightened for a split second.

No. No, no.

This is the alcohol talking.

Her body shifted again, trying to lean in.

Julian instinctively grabbed her shoulders to steady her—

And his palm accidentally brushed against a dangerously soft curve beneath her dress.

His entire body went rigid.

Heat shot straight to his face.

Oh hell.

He jerked his hand back as if electrocuted.

Selene, oblivious, only wriggled slightly, trying to adjust herself more comfortably.

Her chest pressed against him.

Firm.

Warm.

The contact was unmistakable.

Julian’s heartbeat spiked violently.

If she weren’t drunk—

If she realized—

He would be dead.

Not killed by Evan.

Killed by Selene herself.

"Stop moving," he muttered desperately, trying to reposition her without looking suspicious.

She frowned slightly, like a child being denied a toy.

Then she pressed her forehead against his collarbone.

"You smell nice..." she murmured.

He swallowed.

The scent of her perfume mixed with alcohol and the faint sweetness of her breath was intoxicating.

Her fingers traced aimless patterns over his chest.

Every time she shifted, another accidental brush of softness threatened his sanity.

Julian forced his hands to grip her upper arms carefully, lifting her slightly and settling her sideways instead of directly on top of him.

"Sit properly," he whispered harshly. "If you keep moving like this, you’ll regret it tomorrow."

She pouted faintly.

Then, in that same small, vulnerable tone, she whispered,

"Don’t leave me..."

For a moment, the teasing, the schemes, the game—

All of it faded.

Julian stared at the top of her head, feeling her weight against him.

This wasn’t the Ice Queen.

This wasn’t the calculating heiress.

This was just a lonely girl who had learned to survive by pretending she didn’t need anyone.

And now—

She was clinging to the one person trying desperately to push her away.

Julian closed his eyes briefly.

Danger.

This was dangerous.

Not because of Evan.

But because emotions were unpredictable.

He gently placed his hand on her back—not lingering, not inappropriate—just enough to steady her as the car rolled over a speed bump.

She sighed contentedly and nestled closer.

Julian stared out the window at the city lights streaking past.

He had planned to survive.

To avoid female leads.

To avoid emotional entanglement.

But fate clearly had a twisted sense of humor.

And right now—

A drunk Ice Queen was asleep in his arms, whispering love like it was the most natural thing in the world.