Why Am I The Villain?! Reincarnated in My Favorite Novel-Chapter 31: Ambition?

Page caught the tablet with natural ease. She raised her glass in a toast, then dove into the file on the screen. Her brows furrowed slightly.

Eve, meanwhile, eyed Roman with a mix of disdain and amusement.

"Hmm, interesting. Looks like the small-time crooks are staging a rebellion," Page remarked, her tone almost playful as her eyes scanned the data.

Roman leaned against a chair back, arms crossed.

Eve nodded, jumping in before Page could reply. "Yeah, they suspect some kind of coalition of minor gangs trying to topple the big families. The movement's got legs—too big to ignore." She poured herself a whiskey from a nearby bottle, took a swig, and continued. "As we speak, the Fjords are down."

Page's gaze stayed glued to the tablet, her fingers brushing the screen lightly.

"The Fjords?" she murmured, barely audible. "What irony. The ones who bragged about being untouchable fell first."

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Eve took another sip, studying Page's expression. "Every time, it's been a blitz. Brutal. The little guys ate the big ones. Like ants."

A sigh slipped from Page's lips. "This changes the game big time. A drug that boosts physical abilities... Have we gotten our hands on it?"

Eve shrugged. "I'm no more in the loop than you. I just read the file first."

A cryptic smile curved Page's lips. "Well, this should be entertaining. Chaos can breed new opportunities." Her fingers slid across the screen. "I assume they called me in to take out the brains behind this coalition, right?"

Eve gave a curt nod. Roman, meanwhile, dropped heavily into a chair. "And me? What am I here for?"

Page didn't answer right away, still poring over the file.

"Dark Hand..." she hummed, the name rolling off her tongue with odd fascination.

She snapped the tablet shut and locked eyes with Roman.

"You'll be my human shield, Roman. Or rather..." She paused, a predatory grin spreading. "My final solution."

Eve snickered. "Translation: you're upgraded cannon fodder."

Roman didn't flinch, though a vein pulsed at his temple.

Page ignored him, turning to Eve with a smile. "It's time, don't you think?"

Eve grunted, but a feral grin stretched her lips. "Was wondering when you'd say it."

Roman just stared at Page, fists clenched. "You'd better keep your promises, Page."

Page tilted her head, her smile widening. "Trust me, Roman. I'm your solution."

---

In the dim glow of a room lit only by faint ceiling lamps, nine figures sat around a massive table.

At its head loomed a man with a weathered face, silver hair slicked back, and a neatly trimmed mustache above his upper lip. Dressed in a tailored suit, he smoked a cigar with casual authority.

Muted whispers filled the air. Raising a hand, the old man silenced the room.

"My dear children," he said, voice deep and gravelly. "It's time to update me on the family's state."

To his right, a broad-shouldered man, his frame naturally filling out his pristine suit, raised a hand. A silent nod from the patriarch let him speak in a low, measured tone. "Father, lately, Dark Hand's eased off us. Same goes for the Fenbel, Draklor, Volga, Sern, and Amon—they're all following suit."

A pale woman with soft brown curls cascading over her shoulders, clad in a dark-hued dress, raised a questioning brow. "And the Fjords?"

"You know damn well, Francesca, there's no point talking about the Fjords anymore," cut in a man of average build, his tailored suit accentuating a lean frame. His deep brown hair was meticulously styled.

"Just curious, that's all," Francesca shot back.

The lean man fixed her with an intense stare.

"Enough, Lucas," the broad-shouldered man interjected. He turned to Francesca. "As for the Fjords, there's nothing left."

"That's odd," said a shorter man with a mop of black hair, dressed in a suit. "Dark Hand clearly wants us gone. Why stop after the Fjords? Shouldn't they keep pushing?"

"Exactly," Francesca mused. "I expected an all-out war between them and us—the seven families. Could they be scared of us?"

A soft chuckle broke the air. It came from an older woman, her white hair elegantly styled, dressed in a dark gown.

She scanned the room silently before speaking. "You're all off the mark. It's not that Dark Hand fears us. We're the gatekeepers holding order in this country's underworld, with some noble backing to boot. Waging war on us would be their worst nightmare."

The broad-shouldered man raised a finger. "Still, their behavior's weird. Their move on the Fjords was a hell of a statement. If they'd kept going, even with us prepped, our losses wouldn't be light. If they want to rule the underworld in our place, they should've doubled down on the surprise. Now we know them."

"What if they're focusing on recruitment?" Lucas added. "Don't forget—that's how they made their name. Rounding up small-time underworld gangs into a coalition."

"Plausible," said a thin man with short brown hair, clad in a tailored suit. "To me, this is just the calm before the storm."

The older woman, aged but radiant, muttered gravely, "You think they've got a hidden agenda? Beyond targeting us, I mean."

The thin man nodded. "No doubt. My suspicions kicked in when we analyzed their drug's side effects. It's the same stuff used in Damos, just jacked up to extremes."

A bald, ebony-skinned man with a sturdy build crushed his cigarette butt in the ashtray before him. "Their goal's darker?"

"In my view," the thin man replied, "taking over the underworld's just a stepping stone for them."

"Spit it out, Vincent," Francesca snapped impatiently.

Vincent locked eyes with the patriarch before answering calmly. "Giulia said it herself, Father. We're the underworld's guardians. Behind us, the nobility. Attacking us means making an enemy of power itself. Yet their actions don't show urgency to face us—hell, I'd say they've backed off. What I'm getting at is this war was just a stunt to build their rep."

The patriarch's brows knitted. "Vincent, you're saying they've been gunning for our status as a great family from the start?"

Vincent crossed his arms. "Exactly. As for the Fjords, one family had to fall so they could..."

"...replace them," Giulia finished.

"Absurd, plain absurd!" the broad-shouldered man scoffed. "Vincent, you're overthinking this. You don't just knock off a family and take their spot. Ridiculous! To me, their plan's to make us overthink and hesitate while they gear up. I say we strike first!"

"I'm with Gredo," the mop-haired man chimed in. "Even if that's their goal, it'd take a hell of a fight. Why bother with something so unlikely?"

"Dark Hand's moves are strange, sure," Lucas said, "but they might just be screwing with our heads."

"No point speculating forever," Giulia cut in. She turned to Francesca. "You've got contacts on their side. Find out what's really brewing."

Francesca dipped her head in agreement.

The patriarch surveyed the quiet room. "Vincent, your hunches have been spot-on so far. We'll take your concerns as fact and act once we've got solid proof."

Francesca spoke up, skepticism lacing her voice. "Vincent, even if Dark Hand just wants to join our ranks, what's the gain? The six of us would never accept them. Why bother?"

"The nobility," Vincent replied without hesitation.

The patriarch's eyes widened.

"Dark Hand's aiming to..." Vincent started.

"Enough, Vincent," the patriarch interrupted. "Speculation's useless. We'll keep watching and move carefully. I'll talk to the other dons about this."

Then the bald man abruptly raised a hand.

"Something on your mind, Ramon?" the patriarch asked.

With permission, Ramon took a final drag on his cigarette stub, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Why not devour the other families, Father?"

The patriarch arched a brow, studying him. "Explain."

Ramon crossed his arms, his smile widening slightly. "You can't deny the underworld being split seven ways pisses everyone off. Right now, Dark Hand's the big threat. Why not use that to wipe out the rest of the competition? Then finish off Dark Hand for dessert."

Francesca sighed. "Ramon, we're not here to start a total war. That'd just make things messier."

Gredo, the broad-shouldered man, jumped in. "Francesca's right. That approach could leave us exposed, weakened, and alone."

"And Dark Hand?" Francesca asked. "What do we do with them once the others are gone?"

"That's the beauty of my plan," Ramon said with a cruel grin. "We let them tear each other apart with the leftovers. Weak and worn out, they'll be easy pickings."

"I'm not sold," the patriarch said, shaking his head. "Too many variables. What if the other families team up against us? Or if Dark Hand's stronger than we think?"

"It's a risk we've got to take," Ramon pressed. "The status quo's dead. The underworld's shifting, and we adapt or get swept away."

The patriarch turned to Vincent. "What do you make of Ramon's idea?"

Vincent paused, then answered. "The underworld's in flux, no doubt. But starting a war's not the answer. I'd push for a coalition with the other families—otherwise, we all lose."

"A coalition?" Gredo barked, incredulous. "I'd never break bread with those Volga bastards!"

"That's exactly why Dark Hand's gained so much ground—because we don't get along," Vincent countered.

Giulia, ever watchful, added, "Vincent, if the nobility catches wind of broad family cooperation, it could backfire. Seven families instead of one running the underworld isn't random."

Ramon chuckled, amused by the pushback. "Well, your call. You all griped I don't pitch in at meetings—here's why I spoke up. Can't say I don't care now."

"If you're gonna spew garbage, better keep your trap shut like usual," the mop-haired man snapped.

He tilted his head just in time. A violent gust whipped past, embedding an ashtray in the wall behind him.

Giulia fixed Ramon with a stern glare. "Ramon, how many times do I have to call out your impulsiveness? We've noted your take." She turned to the mop-haired man. "And you, Valde—one more rude word, and you're dealing with me directly. Got it?"

Valde nodded understandingly.

Ramon rolled his eyes but relented. "Fine, Giulia. Don't come crying when Dark Hand turns into a damn nightmare."

The patriarch raised a hand to restore order. "Settle down. Vincent and Francesca will dig into this mess. We'll decide after. For now, let's talk business cleanup. We've got work to stabilize our turf and purge our ranks. Thoughts?"