A Regressed Villain: Heroines, Villainesses and Me?

Chapter 3: 5- Compliments?

"Wait, is that the Marquess Croceaus?" One of the noblemen squinted towards a figure casually swimming in the lake. The unique features of the swimmer's body hinted at an identity that seemed almost unbelievable.

"What is he doing in that cold lake?" Another noblewoman stood from her chair, clutching a small hamster in her hand, her eyes fixed on the chilling water, clearly unsuitable for a swim on such a cold night.

"Oh my, what is he thinking?" Margaret, overhearing the murmurs of the nobles, realized the figure in the water was her major investor. Alarmed, she rose abruptly from her chair, her gown rustling against the stone floor, and called out to a servant, "Bring me a towel, a bathrobe, a portable heater, and a hair dryer."

The servant, a young woman, nodded and gracefully gathered the hem of her dress before sprinting towards the palace, her footsteps echoing as she ran to fetch the warm clothes.

"Huh?" Patric, who had been casually immersed in conversation with his future business partners about an upcoming project involving a chain of frontier hotels, was suddenly distracted by the commotion behind him.

These hotels, part of a grand imperial plan, were soon to fall under his control, replacing the soon-to-be-executed man guilty of treason. The murmuring voices of the nobles reached his ears, pulling him out of his business musings.

ting!

"No... why is he here?" The moment he turned in the direction of the lake, the moonlight revealed a figure that was etched into his memory. The glass filled with wine slipped through his trembling fingers, shattering on the ground. His eyes widened in horror, and his hands shook uncontrollably. He knew it was the end for him.

After all, it was he who had given that man the drink laced with an aphrodisiac.

"Mr. Patric, are you alright?" One of the men standing beside Patric noticed the subtle trembling in his body and the rapid vibrations of his hands. The cool night air did nothing to stop the sweat beads forming on his forehead, and his eyes darted nervously. The man beside him, thinking it was a health issue, placed a concerned hand on Patric's shoulder.

"Huh? Y-yes, d-definitely, gentlemen," Patric stammered, trying to compose himself. His trembling hands moved towards his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe away the sweat forming on his forehead. He attempted to mask his fear, but the effort was futile.

And why wouldn't it be?

Everyone was aware of how cruel and relentless the Marquess was when it came to dealing with those who used underhanded methods against him.

The mere thought of the Marquess discovering the truth made Patric's blood run cold.

Not far from him, a noblewoman sat isolated on a white bench, away from the gathering's main focal point.

"It's an honor to meet you, Miss Aecilia," a handsome nobleman in a delicate navy blue suit said, bowing slightly towards her. One hand rested on his chest while the other was extended in a graceful, nobleman's greeting.

She wore a black dress that revealed her cleavage, partially hidden behind cascading black hair. Her black lipstick added to her unique presence at the gathering, while deep black eyeliner framed her golden eyes.

"Fuck off," she replied in a rough tone, rejecting the nobleman's greeting with a scoff. She folded her arms and gave a side-eye to the fourth suitor who had approached her since the party began.

"Sorry?" The man seemed unable to believe what he had just heard, his brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of her brusque response. He straightened up, his initial confidence shaken by her unexpected bluntness, causing his mouth to twitch as he began to stammer, "B-bitc—"

"Yeah, bitch. And not just one, but all the bitches—I'll publish all the videos of you and your father with the title 'Two Pigs Licking Cumdusted Pussy.' So, kindly fuck off." Her voice was sharp and unwavering, her eyes glaring at him with fierce intensity.

The man's face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and rage, and he quickly backed away, unable to meet her piercing gaze.

"Sigh, I just want to go home," Aecilia muttered to herself, clearly not enjoying the company of the two-faced people at the gathering. She slumped forward, resting her elbows on her knees and supporting her chin with her palm, lost in her own thoughts.

"Marquess Croceaus is definitely up to something, Hahaha," chuckled an old man dressed in a luxurious, flowered hanfu, leaning on his cane. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he looked towards the man who had suddenly become the center of attention upon his unique arrival.

'Huh?' Aecilia's ears perked up upon hearing a very familiar name, her eyes squinting in the direction of the old man's. The eyes which appeared uncaring a moment ago, suddenly widening at the sight of the man who, without a care for his body in the cold weather, swam in the chilling water.

She blinked, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

She blinked again, trying to confirm if what she was seeing was true.

"Wh-haat!" Aecilia's tall frame snapped upright, her hands loosened up as she realized the figure in the water was none other than the man who had cheated on her.

"Aven!" she cried out, her voice a mixture of shock and fury. She hastily moved towards the lake, but other nobles, curious about the commotion, also moved closer, making it difficult for her to get through.

Due to her position on the farther side of the noblewomen's group, Aecilia found herself unable to cross the line of noblemen standing around the lake. "Give me way!" she cried out in frustration.

{A/n: Illustration of Aecilia Sertsul}

---

'...this body,' Avendial thought as he immersed himself in the cold water, realizing he had overestimated his current durability against the chill. The freezing water was beginning to paralyze him, but with his mind accustomed to extreme temperatures, he managed to stay focused.

As he finally approached the lake's edge, several onlookers observed him, their words carrying a hint of amusement.

"It seems Marquess Croceaus is in the mood for a bath," a nobleman remarked, seizing the opportunity to impress the man, knowing he could potentially secure a lucrative investment. He smiled warmly as he spoke.

"Indeed, I could never endure such cold water," added another noblewoman, attempting to endear herself to that man with a lively tone and pleasantries.

After hearing those words, Avendial glanced toward the man attempting to hide behind the crowd of noblemen, though his distinctive velvet suit betrayed his presence. Avendial spoke up, addressing him directly in a rough tone, "Count Patric, your drink certainly had a magical effect on me—it feels like I'm burning from within."

'?!'

Suddenly being unexpectedly singled out by Avendial who slowly made his way through the shallow water, his feet finally finding solid ground to stand on.

Patric felt the ground slipping beneath him as he realized he was caught.

It wasn't just Avendial's sharp words that caused the stir, but the sudden silence that spread across the gathering, signaling that Avendial's words had already made an impact on the noblemen and women present.

Unlike common folk who speak first and think later, those gathered here were mostly driven by ulterior motives, seeking profit from alliances and mutual benefits. Avendial's firm statement was enough to make them reassess their stance towards Patric Vrandin.

As tension mounted, Baroness Margaret approached the shore with a towel in one hand, her bare feet touching the water's surface as she slowly waded in. Leaning forward, she offered the emerging man cover, aligning herself clearly with Avendial's words.

"Mr. Avendial, is it true that you're feeling hot after drinking the juice offered by Count Patric?" Her voice added more fuel to the already simmering conflict in the place while her words taking all the blame.

"To tell you the truth, Madam Margaret," Avendial began, hearing her supportive voice and accepting the towel she offered with her outstretched hand. His words continued even as her dress's hem slightly dampened from the water. "Initially, I thought the atmosphere heated up because you arrived."

"Fufu, I'm unworthy of such compliments," Margaret chuckled softly as she withdrew from the water, the towel now draped over the man to cover him. She understood the underlying implications of Avendial's words—all pointing to the fact that Patric Vrandin had served Marques something amiss.

"Marques, I... I don't understand," Patric stammered, feeling the scrutinizing gazes of several noblemen, especially now that even the Princess seemed to be watching him impassively.

It was clear that his reputation was irreparably damaged.

In high society, justifying one's actions wasn't necessary; experienced eyes could easily discern lies and identify those who were on the defensive.

Avendial skillfully maneuvered, using the lake water as a pretext to prompt Margaret to cover him with a towel, ostensibly to shield him from the cold. But in reality, this subtle action effectively concealed the kiss marks and hickeys scattered across his upper body, ensuring they remained hidden without arousing any suspicion.

"Marquess, please, take a seat," a woman holding a small hamster extended her chair to Avendial. Margaret quickly fetched a hair dryer, while maids turned on heaters to warm him.

"Thank you, but truth be told that your hammy is still cuter than you, Miss Vinis," Avendial quipped as he settled into the chair, his gaze finally resting on the composed woman seated at the head of table.

"Oh my..." the woman holding the hamster beamed at the compliment for her beloved pet, though her voice faded into the background as another calm, authoritative voice interjected, addressing Avendial directly.

"It appears I am unworthy of Sir Avendial's compliment," the woman in a white-yellow gown remarked, her gloved hands delicately holding the tea cup as she fixed her yellow-tinted eyes on the man who had just arrived, showering compliments all around.

Avendial's face softened into a warm smile upon hearing her words, his blue eyes accentuated even more in the moonlight as he admired her.

"Princess Katheria, at first, I wanted to compliment your beautiful eyes, your graceful gestures, your brilliant mind, and everything that defines you." He paused briefly, his eyes drifting towards the tea being poured by a maid, before returning to meet her gaze.

"Then it struck me," he continued, his tone earnest yet playful, "I'm starting to feel jealous of those things."

"Why would you be jealous?" Princess Katheria asked, intrigued by his confession.

Avendial's face formed a gentle yet charming smile, his words carrying a hint of flirtatiousness as he declared, "Because they belong to you, and I don't."