The Villainess Evangeline Sinclair

The nobles grew increasingly excited the moment Lucien Von Vaelthrone’s name was mentioned. Their fingers tightened around their bidding sticks.

“Please remain calm, ladies and gentlemen. Before we begin, allow me to tell you the origins of this so-called Fallen Prince.” The man in the fedora lifted his hand, signaling the crowd to hold their tongues.

Lucien let his gaze sweep across the nobles one by one. A chill ran down his spine when he caught sight of an elderly noblewoman smiling at him with an unsettling grin.

He turned his head away, only to notice a young woman seated at the highest row of seats. Her crimson hair spilled over her shoulders, and she covered her lips with a small hand fan.

Lucien fixed his eyes on her. Though her mouth was hidden, he could sense a smile beneath it, simply from the curve of her eyes.

“Lucien Von Vaelthrone, a prince hailing from the kingdom of Ethos. A kingdom that has fallen, conquered by His Majesty Roland Von Silva. Our empire claimed their lands with ease. Ethos was once renowned for the strength of its swordsmen, its men famed for their power.” The man in the fedora spoke with theatrical emphasis.

“Yet no matter how strong they believed themselves to be, relying on what they called a Core within their bodies, what use is brute strength against intellect and the technology of our glorious nation? Is that not so, my lords and ladies?” He lifted his hand, beckoning for a response.

“Indeed!”

“Quite right! That kingdom was nothing but a den of savages!”

“Hahaha!”

Mockery and laughter filled the hall, aimed at the fallen homeland that once bore Lucien.

Lucien, however, didn't care. In that kingdom he had been treated far worse than he was now.

“I still remember the words printed in that paper. with but one new weapon powered by gunpowder, one could bring down ten warriors of Ethos. And it proved true! I myself defeated ten men who fled alongside this prince, all with a single firearm!” The fedora-clad man pulled out a revolver, gilded in gold.

“And do you wish to hear something amusing about that event?” He grinned slyly.

The nobles fell silent, eager, some nodding as curiosity sparked in their eyes.

“When my men and I struck at this prince, his ten guards fled like frightened dogs. But the prince himself… Can you imagine? Stood firm, his sword raised against us. He nearly deflected every bullet we fired. Had it not been for one of my men hidden in the shadows, who managed to land a shot, this formidable prince might have cut us all down.” The man turned his gaze toward Lucien, who answered with an unflinching, piercing stare.

The fedora-clad man smirked faintly before returning his attention to the crowd.

“Thus, ladies and gentlemen, I expect a handsome offer. A slave of this caliber may appear only once in several decades.” He stepped forward, his voice ringing with pride.

“Enough chatter. Now, let us begin! The bidding starts!” His cry echoed as he raised his hand.

“Ten Nin!” A nobleman called.

“One hundred Nin!” A young lady shouted at once.

“One hundred and one Nin!” Another noblewoman beside her countered. The two eyed each other like rivals.

“One thousand Nin!” declared the elderly noblewoman who had smiled strangely before.

Lucien felt another shiver. He began to hope he would not be sold to that woman.

The bids rose higher and higher. The man in the fedora watched with glistening eyes, this was the moment he had long awaited. No longer would his men fall at the hands of the troublesome prince beside him.

The numbers climbed until the hall buzzed with frenzy.

“One hundred thousand Nin!” A plump noble with a short frame lifted his stick.

“One hundred thousand Nin, the highest bid!” The fedora-clad man beamed.

“Going once,” he announced.

“Going twice!” He raised the gavel. Doubt flickered among the nobles, should they raise the price again?

“So—”

Suddenly, a clear, melodious voice rang through the chamber, halting the auctioneer’s hand mid-air.

“One million Nin!” the young lady cried.

The entire hall gasped, turning their eyes toward her. Even the auctioneer froze, mouth agape, though a smile spread across his face.

One million Nin… The price of a mansion, a noble title, vast lands, spent on a single slave.

Lucien turned to her. It was the same red-haired lady, fan still covering her lips, bidding stick raised high.

The auctioneer wasted no time, pounding the gavel.

“Sold! To the red-haired lady of exquisite beauty, adorned in a gown most elegant!” he declared, showering her with praise.

Lucien narrowed his eyes at her. Crimson hair like blood, amethyst eyes gleaming like crystals, she gazed at him with unwavering intensity.

Some nobles groaned in disappointment, muttering that such wealth would have been better spent elsewhere than on a slave who required taming.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for attending tonight’s auction. I am most grateful for your presence, and I trust you shall return, for tomorrow’s offerings will rival even this prince in quality.” The fedora-clad man bowed low.

“With the utmost respect, I bid you farewell until our next gathering.” He removed his hat, pressing it to his chest.

The nobles began to rise and depart. The red-haired maiden remained seated for a moment before standing, moving against the flow of the crowd toward the chamber where Lucien’s ownership would be transferred.

The fedora-clad man gestured for Lucien to follow. Lucien’s eyes remained fixed upon the crimson-haired lady.

---

Within a chamber adorned with a chandelier and a desk stacked with documents, the auctioneer rummaged through his drawers. At last, he drew out a black parchment inked in red, the document that marked Lucien’s ownership.

Lucien stood silently in the corner, forbidden to speak, unable to move freely.

Creak.

The door opened, and the red-haired lady stepped inside, clad in a dark gown tinged with deep blue and specks of white, shimmering like the night sky.

Her fragrance drifted into the room, vanilla and lavender, stirring a strange warmth within Lucien.

“Ah! My lady, perfect timing. I have just found the parchment. Please, inscribe your name here.” The auctioneer pointed to the spot with his finger.

The young noblewoman nodded, moving gracefully to the center of the room.

The auctioneer blinked, realizing his lapse. “Ah! Forgive my poor manners. Please, take a seat, my lady.” He motioned toward an ornate sofa carved with horse motifs.

He placed the parchment upon the desk and handed her a golden-black ink pen.

With a refined motion, the crimson-haired maiden signed her name upon the black parchment.

Evangeline Sinclair.

The ink shifted from black to red, glowing as the parchment lifted faintly into the air. After a moment, the transfer was complete. Lucien felt the crystal within him alter, its hue changing from orange to red.

“Congratulations, my lady. Now, kindly place your payment bracelet upon this stone.” The auctioneer produced a small, sky-blue gem and held it forth.

Evangeline raised her golden bracelet. As it neared the stone, its glow deepened to a richer blue.

The man tapped the gem, as though testing its weight.

“One million Nin… indeed,” he muttered.

“Well then, all is settled. You do know how to handle a slave?” he asked, clapping his hands lightly.

Evangeline shook her head.

The auctioneer arched a brow, then sighed. “Very well, allow me to explain. When one owns a slave, one cannot simply issue commands without restraint. Too many orders may damage their mind. Thus, you may command them as you wish, but sparingly. My advice, two commands per hour at most.”

Evangeline inclined her head. She turned her eyes toward Lucien in the corner, her hand still raised, fan hiding her lips.

Lucien frowned faintly. How could she have held that position, covering her mouth with the fan, from the very start of the auction until now?

“If you understand, my lady, you may depart at your leisure. Or perhaps you would care for tea?” the man asked politely.

“No,” Evangeline answered curtly.

“Very well.” He stood, bowing once more. “Thank you again, and may you find satisfaction with your purchase, my lady.”

Evangeline rose as well, nodding slightly before approaching Lucien.

She looked up at him, the difference in their height plain. For a fleeting moment, her violet eyes seemed to soften, as though touched with pity, making Lucien knit his brows.

He felt an odd urge to push away the fan hiding her lips.

And the reason Evangeline kept it there was, truthfully, rather foolish.

Her lips would not stop twitching, ready to curl into a smile.

Why? Because…

'Kyaa! Omg! Omg! It's really you! I can't believe you're actually standing before me! No more longing stares at my phone, no more daydreaming from afar... You're Real! Ahh, you're even more perfect up close... That noble aura, those gentle eyes, I could melt just looking at you! And your scent... so much better than any scent from my Lucien dakimakura or cologne. At last... I don't need to imagine holding you anymore. This moment… THIS IS EVERYTHING I'VE EVER WANTED!'

Yes… Evangeline had transmigrated into the very otome game she once played. And the character she adored above all others was none other than.

Lucien Von Vaelthrone.