The Villain Professor's Second Chance

In this room, there was no noise. No distractions. No interruptions. Just me, my thoughts, and the endless possibilities of magic laid out before me.

Not entirely true, I thought, as I glanced to the far side of the room where a figure moved with the same fluid efficiency as I did—my clone. I had come here to assist the clone to catch up and perfect the plan for both the symposium and the auction, as both events would be connected.

We worked in tandem, synchronized in a way only I could achieve, each of us attending to different parts of the preparation with perfect precision.

I was finishing the last of the four research papers I planned to present at the upcoming Magic Council Symposium. My pen hovered for a moment, then continued its journey across the page, marking the final calculations with sharp, methodical strokes.

Across the room, my clone inspected a mana flow diagram, adjusting its runic layers to ensure the model would function as intended during the presentation. We moved with the same cold efficiency, neither of us sparing a word, because words were unnecessary.

The symposium would be… eventful. My findings were nothing short of revolutionary—at least, by the Council's standards. I had delved into areas they had deemed too dangerous, too unpredictable. They wouldn't be happy. But their approval wasn't what I sought.

I reached out with my magic, manipulating the components of the replica in front of me. A swirling orb of black and white energy hovered just above the desk. Chaos and necromancy, balanced in a delicate dance, constantly threatening to destabilize, yet held together by the very laws of magic. I guided the flow, keeping the forces in perfect equilibrium.

This would be the centerpiece of my first presentation, a visual demonstration of how disparate magical forces could be harnessed together. Dangerous, certainly, but that was where the beauty lay. Power without risk was a lie the Council had been telling itself for too long.

My clone was tinkering with the second model—an intricate mana flow map that displayed disruptions in real time. He adjusted the mana threads, and the diagram lit up, showing erratic pulses of energy flowing through the invisible pathways. It was fascinating, even to me, how quickly I had unraveled the secrets behind stabilizing these flows.

The Council's researchers had spent years grappling with this issue. They'd never find the solution unless they were willing to cross certain lines.

As I moved on to the third replica—a dungeon core pulsating faintly with energy—I sensed a shift in the air. My clone paused, mirroring my own action as we both turned toward the door. It wasn't that someone had knocked. It wasn't that someone had even entered the room in any normal fashion. It was simply a presence I had anticipated.

Liora stood in the doorway, eyes wide, taking in the scene. She hadn't knocked, of course. She never did. Her gaze swept over the room, but it wasn't the usual quick assessment I had come to expect from her. No, her attention lingered on the replicas, the swirling models of chaos, mana flow, and the dungeon core in particular. Her eyes shone with barely concealed interest.

I knew that look.

"Liora," I said flatly, not bothering to stop my work. "You're here to report on the auction, I assume."

She stepped into the room, her fingers brushing lightly against the edge of one of the charts pinned to the wall. "Of course," she said, a small smile playing on her lips, "but I couldn't help but admire what you've been working on. These... well, these are extraordinary." Her tone was light, but her eyes—her eyes were locked on the replicas with far more intensity than she wanted me to notice.

"You don't have time to admire," I said, guiding the mana core in front of me with a flick of my wrist. "You're late."

"I know, I know," she replied, taking another step closer, her voice casual. "But watching you work... it's mesmerizing." She crossed the room, her gaze flitting between the real me and the clone. "I've suspected it for a while now, but it's something else to see in action. You really are in two places at once."

"five," I corrected, tapping the rune sequence on the fourth replica, a glowing ancestral bloodline chart, shimmering with faint magical energy.

Liora raised an eyebrow, now clearly ignoring the artifacts and focusing entirely on me. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her. "Three, huh? Where's the others?"

I glanced at her, noticing the way her eyes were studying me—no, studying my face. I didn't have time for her games. "Enough," I said coldly, turning back to the bloodline chart. "If you're finished gawking, give me the report and scram."

She didn't move. If anything, she stepped closer, her expression shifting from curiosity to something far more irritating—playful. "Come on, Draven," she said, leaning just enough to invade my personal space. "Don't be shy. You're always so distant. It's rare to see you actually working like this.

Why not let me observe a little longer?"

Her audacity was impressive, if nothing else. I turned to face her fully, my eyes narrowing. "I have no interest in indulging your curiosity, Liora. The auction needs your attention, not my office."

Her smile widened. "Oh, it's handled. The skeleton knights, the wards, everything's in place. I just wanted to see the real you for a change. You're always using your clones to deal with me. It's almost like you're avoiding me."

I could feel my patience thinning. "I avoid distractions, not people."

She laughed softly, a sound that grated against the calm in the room. "You're no fun," she said, though she didn't move. Her gaze softened for a moment as she looked at me—no, studied me. "You know, you're more than just this cold exterior you put on. I see it in your work. There's passion in what you do.

You hide it well, but it's there." Read new chapters at empire

I didn't respond. This conversation was already wasting too much time. My focus shifted back to the task at hand, ignoring the fact that Liora was still standing too close. I could feel her eyes on me, watching me work as though my every movement held some hidden meaning.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" I asked, not looking up from the mana core I was stabilizing.

"For a little while longer," she said lightly, "if you don't mind."

I didn't respond, but I could sense her amusement. She was enjoying this far too much.

I continued to weave the intricate mana threads, ignoring the fact that Liora's presence was an unnecessary distraction. As I adjusted the final components of the bloodline chart, my thoughts began to drift, despite myself.

The symposium.

The Council would be watching me closely. My research would cause waves, but not the kind that would simply settle once the papers were published. No, they would want control. They always did. They would try to suppress the more dangerous elements of my findings—particularly the chaos and necromancy. But I wasn't about to let them.

I glanced toward the mana crystal on the far side of the room, the only object here that wasn't part of the presentation. It held a unique significance, one that was tied to the very foundation of my research. Once the symposium began, the Council would attempt to seize any advantage they could, politically and academically. But I had contingencies in place. I always did.

I finished the last thread of the bloodline chart, leaning back slightly to admire the final product. The room hummed softly with the combined energy of the replicas, each one representing a facet of the research that would soon shake the very foundations of magical society.

And then, just as I prepared to finalize the last of my preparations, something flickered in the corner of my vision.

A notification.

I hadn't seen it in a long time.

The system board—silent for so long—had suddenly reawakened. The glowing text appeared in front of me, familiar yet almost forgotten.

I've done a lot of things, but the quest never once appeared again. Not even the quest of succeeding in avoiding death variable.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

[New Quest: Protect the Queen! (3)]

The words hung in the air, glowing faintly against the dim light of the room. Liora's voice faded into the background as I focused on the quest. It was sudden, unexpected. But there was no room for hesitation. The system had reappeared for a reason, and if it was assigning me a quest now, it meant something was about to shift.

I felt a familiar pull, the sensation of the world around me beginning to fade. Liora's voice, the hum of the magical replicas, the very room itself—it all started to blur, dissolving into the background as the system's magic took hold.

Darkness. Complete and utter darkness enveloped me.

I remained unfazed.

This sensation makes me feel like I'm walking at the right path.

It means that I'm doing the right thing.

"Time to protect the queen," I murmured, my voice barely audible in the void.

And then, I was gone.