Villain of Fate: The Tyrant System-Chapter 63: Morning Light in the Courtyard

Morning Light in the Courtyard

Once he finished washing, Julian D’Aurelius pulled on a close-fitting grayish-black shirt and precise black pants. Cloth followed his slender shape without fuss - plain, yet sharp. His fingers combed through dark hair while sleepy gold eyes blinked slowly, lingering fatigue in their glow, before he left the bedroom behind.

Faint light crept across the floor, hushing every footstep. Silence hung thick where voices had been.

There stood Amara Ravenswood, back pressed to the wall close by.

She wasn’t wearing the usual dress from before. Today she wore the cream fitted blouse and pleated navy skirt that suited her almost unfairly well. The blouse traced her petite yet astonishingly mature curves; the skirt swayed lightly against her thick thighs when she shifted her weight. Her long brown hair fell smoothly over her shoulders, framing her soft face and bright hazel eyes. One hand held her phone loosely, but she clearly hadn’t been reading anything for a while.

She was waiting.

Her mouth lifted at the edges when he came into view.

"You’re finally up," she said, tilting her head slightly. "I thought you were planning to skip breakfast."

One eyebrow climbed higher on Julian’s face. "Didn’t you head down?"

A shift in her stance lifted Amara away from the wall, motion soft like breath - yet that grin? Sharp with secrets.

"I was waiting for you."

Simple words came out. Yet how she spoke made it seem planned.

A flush crept along Julian’s skin, soft but noticeable. He gave a small cough, eyes shifting away. "Waiting isn’t necessary", he said without looking back. "Because You’re the Miracle Doctor Amara now. Important person."

She rolled her eyes, stepping closer. "You look cute when you sleep, Julian."

He froze.

"Excuse me?"

She reached up and casually ruffled his hair, fingers brushing against the side of his head. "You frown even when you’re dreaming. Like you’re arguing with someone."

Julian gently caught her wrist and moved her hand away, rubbing his own hair back into place. "I don’t."

"You do."

He stared at her for a second. She didn’t back down.

Finally, he sighed. "Let’s go, Amara. Stop teasing me and let’s have breakfast."

She laughed softly and fell into step beside him.

As they walked into the dining room, a young man with long black hair tied neatly in a ponytail was already seated at the table, eating.

When he saw Julian, he immediately stood up with a warm smile.

"Brother, Miracle Doctor Amara, long time no see."

Julian paused for half a second—just enough to register the familiar face—then nodded with an easy smile.

"Long time no see."

The young man stepped forward enthusiastically. "Hurry up and eat. Breakfast is getting cold. After we finish, let’s go see Grandpa together."

He quickly arranged bowls and chopsticks for them, movements smooth and attentive.

Julian sat down quietly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he studied the smiling young man.

This wasn’t his real brother.

This was his cousin—Ammy D’Aurelius—his second uncle’s son.

Julian remembered him well.

In the original storyline, not long after Julian’s death, Patriarch D’Aurelius had fallen ill from rage and grief. His parents, blinded by vengeance, poured every resource the household possessed into retaliation.

But no matter how powerful the D’Aurelius household was, it couldn’t contend with Fortune’s Chosen.

Behind Evan stood the Obsidian Wing organization—far beyond what Valemont’s upper circles could comprehend.

Playing the fool to catch the tiger only works if your background can sustain the blow.

And when the storm hit, Ammy—who had always worn the mask of obedience—turned.

He sided with Evan.

Became a lackey of the Obsidian King.

Drove the knife straight into the D’Aurelius household’s spine.

The collapse of that mighty ship... was largely because of him.

Julian lowered his gaze to his bowl.

[I need to find a chance to bury this kid.]

The thought came cold and precise.

The trillion-Euro assets of the D’Aurelius household were supposed to be his reward for surviving till the end.

He couldn’t fight Fortune’s Chosen head-on.

But was it really that difficult... to deal with a snake hiding in his own house?

Across from him, Amara quietly sipped her porridge.

She glanced at Julian, noticing the way his eyes had gone distant, calculating.

Who does Brother Julian want to bury?

She tilted her head slightly, puzzled—but said nothing.

After breakfast, the three of them headed to the small courtyard behind the mansion.

The morning air was cool. Dew clung to the leaves. Sunlight filtered through the trees in fractured beams, casting mottled patterns over the stone path.

When they arrived, Patriarch D’Aurelius was seated in a grand wooden chair beneath the shade, his phone held horizontally in his hands.

The sharp sounds of combat effects and exaggerated character voices echoed from the speakers.

His face was twisted in concentration and fury.

"Charge! Can’t you even start a fight, you tank?"

"Archer, are you an elementary school student? Shouldn’t you be in class instead of playing ranked matches?"

"A bunch of trash! Even at eighty, I wouldn’t make such brain-dead moves!"

Julian, Amara, and Ammy stopped in unison.

The three exchanged a glance.

This old man... was surprisingly trendy.

When the match ended—clearly in defeat—the patriarch tossed his phone onto the table with a thud and rubbed his chest in irritation.

Julian immediately stepped forward.

"Grandpa, you should stop playing games. It’s bad for your health."

Amara followed gently. "Yes, Grandpa D’Aurelius, you need to take care of your health."

Ammy added obediently, "Grandpa, you should rest more." 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

The patriarch waved them off but eventually nodded.

"Got it, got it. I’ll uninstall it and stop playing."

He picked up the phone again, grumbling under his breath, and deleted the game right there, his expression still sour.

Amara quickly poured him a cup of warm tea.

"Have some tea and rest," she said softly as she sat beside him. "I’ll check your pulse."

She placed two slender fingers against his wrist, eyes lowering in concentration.

Julian stood nearby, watching quietly.

He studied his grandfather’s complexion, the faint pallor beneath the flushed skin, the way his breathing carried a slight heaviness.

With the Miracle Medicine Record already etched into his mind, Julian could almost see it—the flow of the nervous system, the subtle imbalances, the early warning signs.

His golden eyes dimmed slightly.

This household... this courtyard... this old man shouting at games.

In the original story, all of it would be gone.

Not this time.

He would not allow it.