Reincarnated As A First Rate Villain: I Don't Know How To Play My Role-Chapter 36

The radiant light that had erupted from the bud began to settle, losing its searing intensity and dimming into a gentle, ethereal glow that bathed the stone chamber in golden luminescence. The walls, once stark and cold, now shimmered with divine light like sunlight glancing off dew-covered marble. Aurorwen slowly lowered her hands from her eyes, blinking away the residual blindness as her vision began to adjust.

Her golden eyes, sharp and vigilant, flicked toward the source of the brilliance. Her breath hitched.

There, hovering at the heart of the opened bud like a miracle in bloom, was Lucien.

He floated in midair, suspended by unseen forces, his posture slouched slightly forward, arms hanging loosely and his head tilted downward as though in a trance or deep sleep. His silver hair cascaded over his face and shoulders like threads of moonlight, lazily swaying as if stirred by a nonexistent breeze. He was utterly naked, his body aglow with a subtle inner brilliance that flickered like starlight beneath his skin.

Aurorwen, though momentarily surprised by his lack of clothing, quickly steeled her heart. Her cheeks warmed slightly, a pink tinge brushing against her porcelain skin, but she dispelled the thought almost instantly.

"I am a devout of the goddess Elyssira. The body is a sacred vessel. Composure, Aurorwen. Composure."

Murmuring a silent prayer to Elyssira to fortify her mental resolve, she steadied her breath and took a cautious step forward. Her white-and-gold robes whispered against the polished stone floor as she advanced, the weight of her sacred duty pressing more heavily upon her shoulders than any burden of modesty.

As she drew closer, her eyes narrowed, focusing on Lucien’s form. There was something... different. His physique no longer matched that of the ten-year-old child she had met earlier in the waiting chamber. Then, he had stood roughly her height, lean and smaller—expected of a child yet to bloom.

Now, however...

"Did his body... grow?" she whispered aloud, her voice barely carried by the still air of the sanctum.

Lucien’s shoulders were broader. His limbs were longer, more defined. His frame now resembled that of a matured youth—no, not merely matured. He looked like an adult in his late teens, perhaps even early twenties. His features, though still serene and boyishly handsome, held a newfound edge, a subtle sharpening of bone and muscle that hinted at power beyond comprehension.

Aurorwen furrowed her brows.

"This... isn’t normal. But then again, none of this is."

She shook her head, dispelling the spiraling thoughts before they could drag her into maddening conjecture. "Thinking too much into the unknown will only make me ignorant," she reminded herself, echoing one of the central teachings of the Light Branch: "In reverence, we observe; in faith, we act."

She approached Lucien’s floating form with slow reverence, her steps soundless, her hands gloved in immaculate white reaching out. The air around him shimmered slightly, warm yet pressurized, like stepping into the very breath of divinity. But she did not hesitate.

With practiced strength and careful movements, she slipped one hand beneath his knees and the other around his back, gently drawing his floating body into her arms.

Though his body had grown, it felt light—as though the very laws of weight and mass chose not to burden one touched by such power. His head came to rest naturally upon her shoulder, his silver hair brushing against her cheek.

"You’ve grown, young lord," she whispered, a soft smile tugging at her lips, though her heart beat with questions she dared not voice.

Aurorwen’s own strength, honed to an S-rank during the days of the working system, allowed her to bear his weight with ease. The chamber was silent but for the faint hum of fading divine energy, still lingering like the scent of incense after prayer.

"Who are you truly, Lucien? What have you awakened into?"

For even as a servant of the goddess, trained to see miracles, what she had just witnessed was something beyond doctrine, beyond prophecy. Something sacred, yes—but also something that may change the very fabric of their world.

She tightened her grip ever so slightly, her heartbeat steady.

"No matter what form you now take... I shall carry you until you stand."

____________________

Lucien stirred slowly.

The comforting dark of unconsciousness faded as warmth crept back into his skin, like sunlight piercing through a cold mist. His breathing was soft, deep, steady. He could hear something—no, someone—murmuring near his ear. A feminine voice, melodic and reverent, as if whispering a prayer. The cadence of the sound was faint, like a memory being carried by the wind.

His head, nestled gently against something soft and warm, slowly turned. He could feel it—the heartbeat against his cheek, the slight rise and fall of breath. His sluggish thoughts drifted like clouds through a sky of confusion.

The world around him began to take shape.

The faint shimmer of ethereal light glowed from the once-blooming bud near the center of the stone chamber. The light it exuded was gentle now, almost sacred, casting elegant shadows across the cavern-like walls carved by ancient hands. There was no sound save for the light fluttering of cloth, the warm pulse of mana in the air, and the soft echo of the woman’s voice.

Lucien blinked his mismatched eyes open—his crimson eye sluggishly adjusting to the light, while the silver-gray one glinted faintly like polished steel. He was greeted not only by the sight of soft light but by the subtle rustling of robes and the warm sensation of being held.

Held?

A bolt of realization cracked through his fogged mind.

His eyes darted around as he finally comprehended his position. His head lay against the shoulder of a woman garbed in white and gold. The soft scent of incense clung to her robes, and his bare skin prickled with awareness. A light breeze brushed against his body, and with a sudden jolt of panic, Lucien realized one crucial detail:

He was completely naked.

His eyes widened.

Why the hell am I butt-naked?! he screamed internally. A flush of heat surged through him, not from embarrassment alone, but the sheer absurdity of the situation. His body twitched, trying to push away, but to his surprise, her grip tightened.

Despite her slender frame, she was strong—firm but not forceful, as if her embrace had no intent to trap but simply refused to break.

"You’re finally awake," came the soft murmur beside him.

It was Aurorwen Everleigh—the ever-graceful emissary of the Church of Elyssira.

Lucien tilted his head, lifting it slightly off her shoulder, only to find her golden eyes locked onto his. Her lips were parted slightly, as if she’d meant to say more, but her words were caught in her throat.

She had paused mid-sentence.

Her cheeks tinted with a hue not unlike the setting sun brushing against ivory skin. Her golden eyes bulged slightly in surprise, flickering between Lucien’s eyes and his face as if unsure what she was seeing.

Lucien furrowed his brows. What’s with her expression? Did something happen to my face?

He could only imagine something ridiculous—like maybe he’d grown a second head, or worse, something had branded itself on his forehead.

"U-Um... Is there something on my face?" he asked, trying to ignore the rising heat in his cheeks.

Aurorwen, who had been staring at him in a soft trance, snapped back to reality like a mirror shattering. Her golden eyes blinked rapidly and her lips parted in brief surprise. Then, shaking her head ever so slightly, she answered a bit too quickly.

"N-No. There’s nothing on your face."

Lucien narrowed his eyes slightly at her expression—nervous, unsure, and a shade pinker than usual. He tilted his head in suspicion, but before he could push further, he became aware once more of his current state. The distinct feeling of skin against fabric, the brush of her robes against his bare chest—and worse—his complete lack of clothing.

A fresh wave of panic hit him.

"Uhm... Miss Aurorwen," he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "Can you... let me go? I’m... butt naked. It’s a little uncomfortable to be held like this..."

Aurorwen blinked. Her gaze darted to her arms wrapped around him, and then to his face. For a moment, the image of his newly matured features flashed again in her mind—the sharpness of his jawline, the faint curve of his muscles, the surreal growth that turned a boy into a young man within moments.

She nodded, flustered again. "O-Of course. My apologies, young Lord Velebrandt."

Gently, she loosened her embrace. Lucien immediately stepped back, his bare feet echoing faintly on the stone floor as he turned around, back facing her.

"Could... Could you please bring me some clothes?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady despite the utter embarrassment.

Aurorwen looked at his back—and only his back—deliberately ignoring the view she was presented with. She noticed how tall he now stood. When they’d met earlier in the waiting chamber, they’d been nearly eye to eye. But now... he towered over her. Her golden eyes lingered on the height difference.

He’s... taller than me now. What kind of awakening was that...?

But she shook the thought away. Speculating too much without guidance might lead her to foolish conclusions. Instead, she reached into the silken folds of her robe and pulled out a small pouch adorned with runic embroidery—the size of a coin purse, but far more special.

A dimensional space pouch.

She unlatched the seal and reached inside, her gloved hand disappearing into the spatial void. After a moment of careful rummaging, she retrieved a long, elegant black robe embroidered at the hem with silver vine patterns.

Aurorwen stepped forward and gently extended the robe toward Lucien, carefully poking his back with her gloved fingers to avoid touching more than necessary.

"Will this suffice?" she asked softly.

Lucien turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse of the offered robe from the corner of his eye. He smiled faintly, grateful.

"Yes... that’s perfect. Thank you."

He took the robe carefully, his movements graceful despite the awkward tension, and began to slip it over his tall frame, finally able to feel a layer of comfort against his skin.

Aurorwen turned around to give him privacy, clasping her hands in front of her and focusing on steadying her breath. Her heart still beated a little fast—not from embarrassment, but from the sheer handsomeness she had seen earlier. There was no mistaking it: the one before her now was no longer just a boy named Lucien.

He was something else entirely.

And though she smiled softly to herself... she could not shake off the slight chill that danced along her spine.

What manner of force have you truly gifted us, Goddess Elyssira, that even the purest of elves would be ashamed of themselves infront of him...