Ascension Of The Villain
Chapter 58 - 58: Moment Of Softness

Vyan was on his way to the dining hall when he saw Iyana climbing up the stairs, her gown all tattered and muddy. She looked like she had just wrestled a swamp and lost.

Iyana spotted him and immediately cut off his impending comment. "If you are going to say 'I told you so,' save it. I know. This was a catastrophically bad idea."

She pouted, surveying the wreckage of her once beautiful gown. "My poor dress. It never stood a chance."

Vyan rolled his eyes, descending the stairs at a leisurely pace. "No, that's not what I was going to say. I was just curious how your gown got so tattered from cleaning a simple stable."

"A simple stable?" she gasped dramatically, freezing mid-step. "In what twisted universe do you call that godown a simple stable? You have twenty horses, Your Grace! Twenty!"

"And here I thought I needed more," he mused, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

"You could already start a business with all those horses," she grumbled.

"Actually, I do have a business—"

She shot him a withering glare. "I don't care!"

"But you are the one who suggested the idea," he remarked, a smirk playing on his lips as he relished her irritation.

"I don't know why I did that!" she exclaimed. "I don't even know why I am talking to you in the first place," she huffed, resuming her climb up the stairs, leaving Vyan chuckling behind her.

Vyan suppressed a smile, ready to let her off the hook for now, but then he spotted a gnarly wound on the back of her shoulder.

His heart twisted and he grabbed her arm as she was passing by. "Hey, how did you get that injury?" he asked, his neutral voice barely hiding the concern.

"What injury?" She furrowed her eyebrows, genuinely perplexed.

"Here," he pointed, and she twisted her head to look, her mouth forming a perfect O.

"Oh, this! I slipped and crashed into one of the wooden pillars at the stable," she said nonchalantly, as if recounting a minor inconvenience like stubbing her toe.

Vyan's eyes widened as he examined the wound more closely. "It looks like you got impaled by a nail or something."

"Now that you mention it, I did feel something sharp. I thought it was just a splinter."

"How are you so blasé about this?" he shrieked.

"Well," she shrugged, "after a year on the battlefield, you get used to worse wounds than this."

Vyan's heart gave a sympathetic lurch.

"Anyway, thanks for pointing it out. I will slap on some ointment and catch some sleep. I will be as fit as a fiddle by morning!" She pumped her fist with a grin.

He let out an exasperated sigh. "Ointment isn't a magic potion, you know."

"What can I do? It's not like I have a stash of an elixir like healing water lying around," she quipped.

"Well—" Vyan paused, weighing his options. Then, with a resigned shrug, he decided to spill the beans. "Actually, I have a stash of healing water."

Iyana's eyes widened like he had just confessed to a national secret. "Wait, do you literally mean a stash of it?"

Vyan nodded.

"Do you know how rare and precious that stuff is? Tell me one thing. Just how much wealth did your parents leave you with?"

"Beats me," he replied with a nonchalant shrug. "But we get ten percent of the healing fountain water every year."

"I get why you would have access to it since the fountain is on Ashstone territory, but why do you keep a stash just lying around in your room?"

"For minor scratches and all," he lied smoothly, waving off her concern like it was a pesky fly.

The truth was, Vyan's feeble immune system demanded constant help from the healing water after his grueling routine of sword fighting, working, and magic practice.

It was an unfortunate truth that despite his soul being blessed with immense power, his body was cursed with fragility. But he had come to terms with it by now.

However, letting Iyana know his biggest weakness? Not a chance.

"You are unbelievable." Iyana gave him a side-eye.

"Thank you, I try," Vyan smirked, casually motioning her to follow him to his room.

They reached the double doors of his bedroom, and with a flourish, Vyan pushed them open.

"There is the bathroom," he said, pointing to a particular door. "You will find a bottle of healing water on the counter to the left. Just add a few drops, and presto, injuries gone."

"I am really craving a warm bath. Is the water hot?" she inquired.

"Yes, the maids make sure it's always warm. It is practically their life's mission at this point," he informed. "I will have one of them send your clothes up. Can't have you wandering around in robes, can we?"

She nodded, and as he turned to leave, she asked abruptly, "Where are you going?"

"To have dinner," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Benedict has been nagging me for half an hour."

"Oh, right, you don't dine with me," she remarked, feigning nonchalance. She didn't know why she hoped he would have dinner with her today. "Okay, then. You should get going."

Watching her head to the bathroom, Vyan felt bad seeing her wound once again and mentally kicked himself.

Geez, why am I feeling so soft for her ever since I acknowledged her memories were gone?

He closed the doors with a self-annoyed sigh and started heading back to the dining hall.

"She even told me herself to keep considering her my enemy, but why can't I do it? Why can't I feel the same hatred for her as I used to?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"I seriously need a distraction from all this drama. So… what should I do now?"

Torturing Lyon was always an option, but getting his hands dirty wasn't really his style. He preferred to delegate that kind of thing to the cell guards.

Now, he was stuck with nothing interesting to do.

Once he reached the dining hall, Benedict gave him a disapproving look and said, "Your food has gotten cold already, Master."

"That's alright," Vyan mumbled, rolling his eyes. Not the first time he was going to have chilled leftovers. Although it had been a while since the last time he did.

He plopped down at his usual seat at the head of the table and asked, "Where's Clyde?"

"Lord Clyde has already retired to bed. He was utterly exhausted from all the preparations for the monster hunt festival," Benedict replied.

Vyan pouted slightly. Clyde's endless prattle would've been a perfect distraction. "Great. Just when I needed a human noisemaker."

"Is something troubling you, Master?" Benedict asked, his concern evident. "You usually let Lord Clyde have dinner with Lady Iyana these days so she doesn't get too lonely while eating."

Vyan's cheeks flushed crimson. "I don't do it for that reason!" he snapped, feeling the indignation rise. "They are both equally annoying, and avoiding them keeps my sanity intact."

"Indeed, Master," Benedict played along, "Your self-preservation instincts are commendable, indeed."

Vyan huffed dramatically and stood up from the table. "You are annoying me too now, Benedict. I will eat later."

"Later when?" Benedict inquired, his voice laced with the patience of a saint.

"Um, just let me know when Iyana comes down to eat," Vyan grumbled before he stomped out of the dining hall.

As Vyan was done fuming, he wondered what to do next. Practicing the magic spells he had been working on was next on his task list, but...

"I just don't feel like it. I…" His longing eyes drifted to the second floor, toward the direction of his bedroom.

The words swirling in his heart didn't dare reach his lips. Rather, forced himself to head down to his magic chamber.

He tried pushing down the voice in his chest that whispered, I want to spend time with her.

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