For a full ten seconds, I didn't breathe. The world narrowed to the crimson text hanging in the air.
[Identity of Regressor: Lyra Ravencrest.]
The name hit me with the force of a physical blow. It was an absurdity. A cosmic joke so cruel, so utterly insane, that my first reaction wasn't anger.
It was a hollow, empty silence in the center of my soul.
Lyra.
My Lyra. The jewel of the Ravencrest dynasty. The woman whose violation drove me to madness. The singular reason I clawed my way through twenty-five years of humiliation, all for the slimmest chance of getting her back.
The woman who, in my final moments, I vowed to burn the world for.
That Lyra. A regressor. Helping him.
The hollow silence shattered, replaced by a rage so cold it felt like my veins were filling with ice. The Shadowfang Dagger in my hand pulsed with a hungry, symbiotic darkness, feeding on the pure, undiluted hatred pouring from me.
"That…" I whispered to the empty, blood-spattered room, "...bitch."
The word tasted like venom. It was the ultimate betrayal. My suffering wasn't just a tragedy; it was a sacrifice she willingly made. My obsession wasn't a flawed love; it was an obstacle she needed to overcome.
She looked at our shared past—at her own violation, at my twenty-five years of agony—and decided that the protagonist's victory was worth it all.
A low, guttural laugh escaped my lips.
"Fine," I hissed. "So that's how we're playing this time. No more tragic heroines. Only enemies."
My obsession hadn't vanished. Oh no. It had simply… purified. The desire to protect her, to save her, had been burned away. All that remained was the desire to possess. To conquer. To chain her to my side and watch the hope drain from her eyes as I dismantle the "hero" she chose over her own blood.
But first. The trash.
My emotional tempest was caged and locked away. Cold, pragmatic logic took its place. I had a dead body, a shattered knee, a missing tongue, and a puddle of blood on my floor. My timeline was fucked. There was no time for a breakdown.
"System," I thought, my voice flat. "Open the Bronze chest."
...OPENING [RANDOM ITEM CHEST - BRONZE].
...ITEM OBTAINED: [Mask of the Faceless Man].
[Mask of the Faceless Man (Rare Grade)]
Description: A simple, featureless mask made of pale wood. When worn, it conceals your identity, aura, and cultivation level from anyone below the Core Formation Realm. A useful tool for errands that require anonymity.
Useful. Very useful. I mentally stored it away.
Now, for the cover story. I scanned the room. Marcus was a clumsy oaf. I was a prince with a notoriously short temper. The story wrote itself.
I stalked over to the wall where a decorative, heavy porcelain vase sat on a pedestal. I grabbed it and, with a surge of newfound strength from the Marrow-Cleansing Elixir, I hurled it to the ground near Marcus's head. It shattered into large, sharp-edged pieces.
Perfect.
I picked up the biggest, most wicked-looking shard. I walked back to the corpse, rolled it over, and plunged the shard deep into the side of his neck, right through the carotid artery, mimicking a fatal wound from a fall. More blood, but it sold the story.
Finally, I took a deep breath, composed my face into a mask of aristocratic annoyance and slight panic, and bellowed.
"GUARDS! GUARDS, GET YOUR FAT ASSES IN HERE, NOW!"
Heavy footsteps thundered down the hall. Two armored imperial guards burst into the room, their hands on their swords. They froze, their eyes widening at the scene.
The dead servant. The blood. The shattered vase. And me, the Fourth Prince, standing over the body looking thoroughly pissed off.
"This clumsy idiot," I snapped, gesturing with contempt at the corpse. "He tripped while serving my tea, fell onto the decorative vase, and got what he deserved. Look at this mess! Clean it up. And send a message to my Second Brother. Tell him his favorite informant had a little… accident."
I made sure to emphasize the last word, letting a cold smile touch my lips. The lead guard, a veteran named Kael, met my eyes. He saw the truth there—or at least, he saw that the official story was the only one that would let him keep his head.
He bowed stiffly. "Yes, Your Highness. At once."
As they began the grim task of removing the body, I walked away, my mind already ten steps ahead.
Ten days until Lin Feng arrives. My plans for a slow, methodical rise to power were now scrap paper. I needed power, and I needed it yesterday. The Abyssal Shadow Devouring Art was my path, but it required fuel. It required cultivators to devour.
And my treacherous, sweet, beautiful sister… she just became my primary source of information.
She thinks I'm still the same foolish dandy from our last life. She'll be watching Lin Feng's path, waiting for him. She won't be watching me. A fatal mistake.
I left my chambers, ignoring the guards and the wrapped corpse. My destination was clear.
I was going to the gardens. I was going to pay a visit to my beloved younger sister.
It was time to see if I could spot the soul of a 40-year-old woman hiding behind the innocent eyes of the fifteen-year-old jewel of Ravencrest. It was time to start the game.
But as I rounded the corner into the main hall, I stopped dead.
Standing there, in quiet conversation with my father, the Emperor, was a girl I knew all too well. Long black hair, a face of devastating beauty, and eyes that held a chilling, calculating depth.
It was Seraphina Vane, the daughter of Duke Vane.
And in my last life, she was my fiancée. The one Lin Feng stole and added to his collection like a pretty trophy.
The system pinged with a new, unexpected notification.
[NEW SIDE QUEST AVAILABLE: The Unclaimed Jewel]
Description: Fate has decreed that Seraphina Vane is destined to be a part of the Protagonist's harem. As a villain, the property of the hero is yours for the taking.
Objective: Claim her first blood. Before the Protagonist ever lays eyes on her, make her irrevocably yours.
Reward: 500 SP, [Affinity Core: Yin Essence - Low Grade], Title: 'Hero's NTR'.