Reborn As An Overpowered Villain

"Haah." Charlotte sighed for the umpteenth time. She had long lost count of how many times she had sighed today, but if she had been keeping track, the number would have easily crossed a hundred by now. And how could it not? She was having such a hard time containing the embarrassment swirling within her that other than sighing, slapping herself, and muttering inaudible curses under her breath, there was truly nothing else she could do.

She rubbed her forehead, cursed herself quietly, and sighed once again, desperately trying to smother that wretched embarrassing feeling that kept creeping slowly up her chest and flooding her head with thoughts that left her flushed and red-cheeked. She had been avoiding her mirror as much as humanly possible since morning to avoid seeing her face that was like a teenage girl's.

Why did I do that? Charlotte covered her face with both hands and began shaking her head left and right, feeling her body grow warm as she bit the inside of her cheeks hard to keep the cringe and the embarrassment from swallowing her whole.

It had been so unbearable to even step foot into the auditorium hall in the morning that she had delayed and delayed until the very last possible moment, rushing there in a hurried frenzy only because she was the vice headmistress of the academy and, in the absence of the headmaster, the entire burden of the morning prayer fell squarely on her shoulders. She had to be there. She had to make sure it was done perfectly.

And she was more than willing to go and fulfill that duty, truly she was, but that wretched thing that had happened yesterday had left her restless since the moment she had opened her eyes, so deeply embarrassed at the thought of facing that damned Lucien that she had put off going to the auditorium until the absolute final moment. Until a voice from somewhere deep inside her had screamed at her to move, warning her that if she did not go, that damned Lucien might very well stride into her office himself and drag her there.

Well, that would most likely never happen. Lucien would never care enough to come all the way to her office just because she had not appeared on time. Rather, she had ultimately gone to the morning prayer because of the guilt gnawing away at her conscience, and honestly, had that guilt not existed, she would not have stepped into that auditorium hall at all.

And when she had finally gone, she had felt so mortified standing there, watching Lucien who had been cold as ice with that same insufferable, impassive face that had not so much as twitched, not even a flicker of reaction, despite the fact that she had bitten him on the neck. The neck. Yes, the bloody neck.

Charlotte shook her head with yet another sigh.

She had bitten him on the neck. And just seeing his face in the auditorium had made her so unspeakably uncomfortable, because she was older than him, and he was only nineteen years old. He was an adult, certainly old enough to marry, but even so, biting him on the neck while completely drunk was something she could not bring herself to feel anything other than deeply embarrassed about. She had been so drunk last night that most of what had happened had slipped from her memory entirely, and yet, somehow, out of everything, she had managed to retain the memory of biting him and calling him something like a bad boy.

Charlotte felt her cheeks burn a deep, vivid red just picturing it. Calling him a bad boy. And biting him on top of it, though she still harboured a small, desperate doubt about whether she had truly bitten him at all, because Lucien had not reacted even the slightest bit when she had spotted him in the auditorium hall.

If she had truly bitten him, surely he would have shown at least a scowl, at least a flicker of irritation, and yet there had been absolutely nothing. That same unreadable, impassive expression as always.

She had even tried, very carefully and not at all obviously, to steal a glance at his neck and had found no mark whatsoever, which had sent her second-guessing her own memories all over again.

But she was certain she had bitten him. She was certain, because there was simply no world in which she would ever dream of biting Lucien of all people, someone who was so thoroughly her junior. And so she had settled on the conclusion that she had indeed bitten him, and that Lucien, being of high rank, the mark must have been healed or he had simply used a potion to erase the mark.

But what if the biting had been a dream and not reality at all? No. Why on earth would I dream about that damned Lucien?

Knock. Knock.

Charlotte jolted immediately from her spiral of thoughts. She quickly sat ramrod straight in her chair, smoothed her robes, and tidied her hair.

"Come in," she called out, her voice composed and steady unlike her previous turmoil version.

When the door swung open, a current shot straight up her spine.

Lucien?

Lucien stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. Charlotte swallowed audibly. He crossed the room in silence, stopped before her desk, and lowered himself into one of the chairs opposite her, his face resting against his fist, elbow propped on the armrest, watching her with that same unreadable calm.

Damn, I should have not allowed entry. Charlotte winced inwardly. Why is he here? Does he want revenge because I bit him yesterday?

She gave a small, deliberate cough and resettled herself in her chair. Meeting his gaze with what she hoped was a perfectly steady expression, she folded her hands on the desk and spoke, carefully keeping her eyes from drifting toward his neck to search for any trace of evidence that she had, in fact, bitten him there, despite already knowing full well that she had. "Is there something I can help you with, Professor Lucien?" she asked.

"Yes," Lucien replied in that same cold, unhurried voice of his, his impassive face holding Charlotte's gaze without so much as a trace of emotion or discomfort, while Charlotte herself was barely managing to hold her expression together. "I do need your help." He tilted his head just slightly. "And I believe you are the reason for it."

Right then and there, Charlotte's carefully maintained composure crumbled entirely, and her cheeks bloomed a deep shade of pink. Does he want to bite me back on the neck for revenge?

***

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