Ascension Of The Villain-Chapter 264: Warmth Before Storm

The next day, the morning air was bright but brisk, like it couldn't decide whether to be pleasant or a little hostile—much like Vyan when woken up too early.

Inside the plush confines of the royal carriage, Vyan lounged with one leg crossed over the other, idly staring out at the streets of the capital while twirling a ring between his fingers. Across from him sat Clyde, looking far too chipper for someone who had very recently lost two fingers.

"You know," Vyan began, glancing at Clyde, "I have to admit… those fake fingers look disgustingly realistic. It's a bit creepy how well they blend in."

Clyde grinned proudly, wiggling his hand in front of Vyan like a child showing off a macaroni sculpture. "Right? My Athy is a genius. She healed up the stubs and patched them up with these beauties. Man-made, magically fused, and finger-lickin' functional."

Vyan blinked. "…Did you just describe your prosthetics as finger-lickin'?"

"Not the point," Clyde huffed. "The point is—they bend, they hold, they look good, and I barely feel the difference."

There was a flicker of guilt in Vyan's eyes. "Still. I am sorry you lost them. If I had gotten to you sooner—"

"Oh, pfft." Clyde waved his good hand. "If you start going all tragic and broody on me, I swear I will start crying dramatically and we will both ruin our reputation. Don't worry about it, my lord. I am still devastatingly handsome. Nothing happened to my face, and that's what counts."

Vyan snorted, reluctantly amused. "Well, I suppose you do have the looks to pass as the emperor-consort of our nation."

"I am glad you recognized that," Clyde grinned. But his smile faded slightly as the carriage entered the imperial grounds, his gaze shifting out the window. "Off-topic but… I have got a bad feeling about today."

Vyan paused, tone growing softer. "Strangely, you are not the only one."

To shake off the creeping sense of doom, Clyde looked around. "Aren't we heading to the imperial court a bit too early today?"

Vyan smiled, widely and almost stupidly in love like Clyde. "That's because I am making a little detour. I am going to visit Iyana first."

Clyde immediately grinned. "You do know that the military headquarters isn't your personal playground, right?"

Vyan's smirk was all mischief. "It might as well be—considering I am the most beloved of their commander."

The carriage rolled to a halt before the imposing stone structure of the military quarters. Vyan rose, brushing invisible dust from his coat.

"Go kill time with Thea or something. I will be at the court on time," he tossed over his shoulder to Clyde.

"Alright," Clyde called, leaning back and ordering the coachman to head to Aurora Palace as Vyan stepped out and strode off.

———

Iyana sat hunched over her desk, ink smudging the side of her hand as she scribbled another note on the edge of a hastily drawn border map. Her fingers ached from hours of writing, her back stiff from leaning too long against the chair. The candles had burned low despite it being morning. Fatigue clung to her like a second skin.

And yet—

Her hand paused mid-sentence.

There it was.

A cadence of footsteps—sharp, confident, and blissfully happy—treading down the hallway just outside her office door. It wasn't loud. It wasn't rushed. But it was familiar.

She didn't even need to check. Her heart recognized him before her mind did.

A flutter. A pull in her chest. A warmth that melted through the exhaustion like the first rays of dawn through frost.

A ghost of a smile played on her lips as she stood up, her shoulders instinctively relaxing. She had just been thinking earlier how she wanted to start her morning with admiring his unbelievably gorgeous face like she had been doing for a while now.

By the time the steps reached the door, she was already there—her hand on the knob, anticipation thrumming in her fingertips.

The knock hadn't even landed yet.

She opened the door, and there he stood.

Vyan.

Her handsome and precious Vyan.

She pulled him inside the cabin already before he could say anything.

Closing the door, he didn't even have time to tease her before she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest like she'd just found shelter in the middle of a storm. He inhaled the scent of her—faint vanilla and ink, the perfume of command and sleepless nights—and rested his chin on the crown of her head.

"Someone missed me," he murmured, fingers slipping to cradle the back of her neck, her hair tied in a bun.

"I am sorry I didn't come by last night. Work has been insane," she mumbled, voice muffled by his chest.

"I heard the clashes at the Ganlop border are acting up again?"

She nodded. "Yes. The acting commander of Haberland swears they are not involved. But our soldiers are being attacked, and I can't figure out who's behind it. It's maddening. On top of that, all around the empire, the missing cases are surging more than ever. I feel so bad that I can't spend more time with you."

Vyan reached down and tilted her chin with two fingers, eyes studying her tired face. It was a face he was all too familiar with. He had seen her work herself to the bones countless times while he was her knight. However, despite seeming tired, her eyes were still bright and sharp—they always were. She really did love her job a lot.

"Yet despite all that," he said softly, "you dropped everything to help me when Clyde went missing."

Her lips curved into a fond smile. "Of course I did. Your crisis is my crisis."

"Oh?" he teased, hand settling on her waist as he guided her gently toward the desk. "Should I be concerned that our nation's military priorities lie in my well-being?"

She didn't resist the way he backed her into the edge of her work desk. Instead, she leaned into him, her breath brushing his collar. "You should just be grateful," she whispered, eyes narrowing playfully, "that you are the favorite of someone very important."

He laughed quietly, low and husky in his throat. "I happen to be quite important myself, if you haven't noticed."

She arched a brow, a teasing smirk curling her lips. "Oh? And what exactly might your grand identity be, mister?"

"I happen to be the main villain of a wildly popular novel... the kind who is so helplessly in love with the heroine, he can't go a minute without thinking about her."

His eyes dropped to her lips, gaze heavy—dark, wanting.

Iyana's breath hitched subtly, but her voice stayed composed. "Would it help if I told you," she murmured, licking her bottom lip before catching it lightly between her teeth, "that the heroine can't stop thinking about him either?"

A sharp breath left Vyan. "No. That just makes me lose my mind faster."

He wasn't answering her words.

He was answering her mouth.

It was unhurried at first. Gentle. Like the start of a song that neither of them wanted to rush. His lips brushed hers once—then again, firmer. Her hands curled into his suit, clinging. The world seemed to go quiet around them, leaving only the sound of their mingled breaths and the heat of their bodies pressing closer.

Quickly, the kiss deepened.

He slid a hand up her back, gathering her into him as his mouth moved over hers with a new kind of urgency. She melted into it as he kissed her like he had all the time in the world and not a damn thing to prove.

When they parted, barely, just to breathe, Vyan didn't pull away. He let his lips travel down—feathering against her cheekbone, her jaw, before finding that sensitive spot just behind her ear. She gasped, her fingers tightening around him.

"You—this is—my office," she whispered breathlessly, her voice laced with laughter and warning and want.

"I am aware," he murmured against her neck, kissing just beneath her ear. "And yet no one is stopping me."

"As if I can stop you."

"More like, you don't want to, my lady."

He unbuttoned the first two buttons of her uniform with deliberate slowness, giving her the window to stop him if she wanted. She watched him, breath caught between reprimand and surrender. She knew it was wrong… so wrong… Not in her sacred office.

Her skin prickled with awareness as his lips brushed the hollow of her collarbone.

"You are right, I don't want to," she muttered, not moving a finger to stop him. "So, hurry up and finish whatever you want to do. It will soon be time for your meeting."

"I don't want to, either," he murmured, nibbling lightly at her throat. She felt the wicked curl of his smirk against her skin.

He slid one hand down her side, grazing her hip until she had to grip the edge of the desk to ground herself. He undid a few more buttons, leisurely biting and marking her all over her chest and shoulders.

Iyana had almost lost track of all senses when a small trinket dropped to the floor due to the careless brush of her hand, and she snapped back to reality.

"Vee," she breathed, her voice a warning wrapped in a plea. He lifted his head from her chest to capture her lips. "You are cutting it very close. Your meeting—"

"I am the emperor's favorite," he replied between kisses. "I will survive."

"But this is the first time His Imperial Majesty is attending in weeks—"

"I visit him almost daily. He will forgive me." Another kiss.

She rolled her eyes even as her knees threatened to buckle. "You are such a menace."

"And you," he whispered, squeezing her thigh with his hand, "are devastatingly distracting in uniform."

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Their foreheads touched, breaths mingling. She finally pushed at his chest—half-hearted, eyes still shining.

"Go," she whispered, voice hoarse with affection and restraint. "Before I force you to finish what you started."

He lingered for a beat longer, stealing one last kiss—slow and possessive—before pulling away with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

"You will owe me later, Commander Estelle," he called as he headed for the door.

She got down from the desk—flushed, messy, and breathless—and shot back, "In your dreams, Your Grace."

He grinned. "Every night."

———

The moment Vyan entered the court chamber, he felt it.

Gone was the lingering happiness from having spent time with Iyana. This… was heavy. The kind of silence that crept under your skin.

Everyone stood still. Eyes flicked toward him briefly at his late arrival and then away, as if whatever was going was more urgent.

Vyan nonchalantly made his way over to his spot. His gaze swept the room. He wondered what was going on for everyone to be like this.

And then—

"It is the truth, Your Imperial Majesty. Princess Althea had prior knowledge of the location of our hostage, Princess Maria. In fact… she is the mage who helped Princess Maria escape in the first place."