Daily Life of a Transmigrating Villain

Luna's face turned ashen, her breath growing shallow as panic gripped her.

"No, no, no… what is happening here? Where is the portrait?" she gasped, her voice trembling.

Her eyes frantically searched the room, darting from corner to corner, hoping to find any trace of it.

Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, sinking lower with each second.

The servants stood frozen, their faces pale, sharing in the weight of her despair.

One of them, barely able to meet her eyes, whispered, "W-we apologize, Lady Luna. We failed to protect it... we're so sorry."

Luna's legs buckled, and she collapsed to her knees, the world spinning around her.

Her palms pressed against the cold floor as a torrent of memories overwhelmed her.

That portrait—it was the last connection to her mother, the final piece of her past she had fought so hard to preserve.

Tears blurred her vision as she struggled to breathe, her mind trapped in the pain of that fateful day.

The day she lost her mother.

The day she threw a tantrum, insisting they go to an auction, and her mother, always loving and patient, gave in.

And then... the accident.

It had cost her everything.

Guilt weighed her down like a heavy shroud.

'It's my fault,' she thought bitterly, the words echoing in her mind.

The accident, her mother's death—it was all because of her.

She had wanted one more painting, and in the end, it had cost her far more than she had ever imagined.

And now, the portrait—the last link to her mother—was gone.

Burned to ashes.

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as her hands balled into fists.

'I should've let it go,' she thought, the regret tearing at her soul.

But she hadn't.

She had clung to the past, to that last memory of her mother, and now, it was lost forever.

The servants stood in silence, unable to comfort her, as Luna tried to gather herself.

Knowing the portrait was not just lost by chance, this fire was no accident, and the realization sent a cold shiver down her spine.

"What happened here? L-Luna?!"

The patriarch of the Harrison family, while stumbling by the support of his fellow assistants, arrived inside the room, looking towards Luna, who was seated while tears welled in her eyes.

It was catastrophic.

It was the first time in his life he had seen his strong daughter have tears in her eyes.

His mind was racing, even though after that event where suddenly he was attacked by someone and spent his days in the hospital, it was the first time he felt shocked and pain.

Not just him, but assistants and other people, including servants, were seeing their lady who was the strongest and most determined one among everyone in such a state for the first time.

"....I am fine, Grandpa," Luna said, using a cloth to clean her face, as the edges of her eyes turned towards the ashes scattered around the room.

As she slowly stood, she realized that she had gotten herself overwhelmed by the emotion.

Getting rid of the painting that was burned felt like a good thing for her.

She had always wanted to let it go but never could, remaining bonded with it.

But now, due to the fire, it was gone.

Of course, she wasn't just going to sit idly by.

Suddenly, the sharp crackle of flames echoed in her ears, and her chest tightened.

'How did this even happen?' she wondered.

Each room in the mansion had its own isolated electrical system.

A short circuit was impossible.

Luna clenched her fists, anger surging through her.

"Who was responsible for this?!" she yelled, her voice like a whip cracking through the silence.

Without waiting for a response, she ordered, "Call the security guards. Now!"

Within moments, the guards were assembled, standing before her in rigid formation.

Their backs were straight, hands clasped behind them, but their faces were pale, sweat beading on their brows.

Luna's presence was too overwhelming, and the intensity of her glare made them flinch.

"Who came here?" she demanded, her voice low but deadly.

"Tell me who arrived while we were gone."

The guards exchanged nervous glances.

One stepped forward, his voice barely a whisper.

"N-no one, Lady Luna. No one came inside."

Luna's eyes narrowed.

"Are you sure?"

Her voice held an edge that made the man tremble.

He swallowed hard.

"Yes, I swear. No one entered."

She clenched her jaw, frustration boiling inside her. Continue reading on m|v-l'e -NovelBin.net

These men were either telling the truth, or they were too terrified to admit they had failed her.

Luna rubbed her temples, trying to think clearly.

"Go away," she finally ordered, her tone flat, dismissing them with a wave.

The guards quickly turned to leave, but as they were about to exit, one paused, hesitating before turning back.

"Actually... someone did come by earlier," he said nervously.

"In a taxi, but he didn't enter the mansion. He stayed outside."

Luna's eyes snapped to the guard, her fury rekindling.

"Who was it?" she demanded, her voice like ice.

The guard swallowed again, the fear evident on his face.

"It was Damien Raphael."

Luna's eyes widened as the guard's words hit her like a jolt.

"What? What did you just say?"

Her voice was sharp, laced with disbelief.

She could hardly process the name he'd mentioned.

That name... Damien Raphael.

The guard, sensing her agitation, repeated himself cautiously, "It was Damien Raphael, Lady Luna. He arrived here... in a taxi."

The moment hung heavy in the air.

Luna sat in stunned silence for a heartbeat before covering her face with her hands.

She sank into the sofa, a strange laugh bubbling out of her, barely above a whisper.

"So... he dares?"

Her voice cracked with amusement, tinged with disbelief.

Someone was truly testing her patience, pushing the limits of her tolerance.

Damien Raphael—the man who had rejected their arranged marriage, the man her family had meticulously selected to elevate their standing—was now standing at her doorstep, pulling a stunt like this.

The irony wasn't lost on her.

She thought back to the days when her grandfather had pressured her into accepting the match, a strategic move to bind their powerful Harrison family to the even more influential Raphael family.

And like a naive fool, she had agreed.

She'd even convinced herself that she could use Damien to climb higher within their ranks.

After all, it was her duty, wasn't it?

To secure the future of the Harrison empire.

But Damien had rejected her.

He hadn't even given her a second thought.

And now, here he was.

Luna's mind raced.

Could it have been him?

Could Damien really have been the one to set the fire?

The timing of his arrival was far too convenient to ignore, but she couldn't jump to conclusions without proof.

None of the servants had seen him enter the mansion.

It was highly unlikely that Damien, always calculated and deliberate, would recklessly burn the room without thinking through the consequences.

She ran her fingers through her hair, frustration mounting.

Damien wasn't the kind of man to act impulsively.

He was cunning, careful, always one step ahead.

Yet, there was no denying that something about this situation felt wrong.

Almost too convenient.

Was he sending her a message?

Trying to provoke her?

Luna sat back, her gaze darkening.

"Damien Raphael... what game are you playing?" she muttered under her breath.

She couldn't ignore the possibility that he was behind this, but until she had more information, she'd have to be cautious.

For now, the pieces of this puzzle remained scattered.

But one thing was certain: Damien's sudden appearance wasn't just a coincidence.

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Far away from the imposing Harrison Palace, inside a modest taxi, Damien Raphael sat in the back seat, his expression calm as he tapped away on his phone. The driver, Karl, kept his eyes on the road, but his mouth twitched involuntarily as he caught glimpses of Damien's actions in the rearview mirror.

"Don't even think about touching my 600 nr," Karl muttered under his breath, half-joking but with a trace of seriousness in his tone. He knew Damien well enough to know that he had a way of getting what he wanted, even when it wasn't his to take.

Damien paused, his fingers freezing mid-scroll on his banking app, and directed a glance at Karl. A teasing smirk danced on his lips. "You really shouldn't have mentioned it, Karl," he remarked, a subtle edge creeping into his tone. "Damn it. Now you've planted that idea in my head."

Karl's eyes widened theatrically, feigning horror. "Don't even think about it," he warned, this time with a firmer tone. "That's my hard-earned money you're talking about."

Damien laughed, shaking his head lightly. "Relax. I wouldn't dare touch your precious 600 nr," he said, returning his focus to his phone. In a flash, he typed out a message, his fingers dancing rapidly across the screen. After sending it, he handed the phone to Karl without a second thought. "Here. Now let's make our way to the Raphael family's mansion."

Karl accepted the phone with caution, stealing a glance at Damien that was tinged with mild suspicion. "You're plotting something, aren't you?" he asked as he steered the car onto the main road, heading toward the Raphael estate.

Damien leaned back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, while his gaze drifted out the window. "Always, Karl. Always," he replied, a hint of mischief in his voice.

The taxi sped down the deserted road, the day unfolding before them, an open canvas for the next act in Damien's meticulously crafted plans.

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