A Regressed Villain: Heroines, Villainesses and Me?

"Sir?" The Mayor, who had just risen from his chair, was grappling with the implications of the situation.

He turned to the Marquess, trying to comprehend the offer of support for the upcoming elections—something that no political party would typically ignore in today's world.

"So, do you want my support, Mayor?" Avendial inquired again, his tone calm yet cold, his steady gaze fixed on the man before him.

"Of course, it's my pleasure, sir," the Mayor responded.

However, he couldn't shake the feeling that if he were dealing with a conventional businessman, he would have approached the situation with more rationality and logic.

But with someone of such noble standing, renowned for their immense wealth—enough to place him among the world's richest individuals—his mind was unable to process the gravity of the meeting.

"But the issue is, I believe in mutuality rather than one-sided deals," Avendial said, leaning back against the sofa, his hands resting on the armrests as a cold glint passed through his eyes.

"...Mutual?" The Mayor was slightly taken aback by Marquess' words but quickly regained his composure.

He realized that nothing in this world comes without a price.

Given the colossal amount involved, the implications would likely be significant.

As he took off his glasses and began polishing them with a cloth, he attempted to appear nonchalant while inwardly pondering what sort of proposal might be on the table.

After peering through the lenses once more, he asked, "What can I do for you, Marquess?"

"Simple, I just need to use the phone in your office," Avendial replied, gesturing toward the desk where the phone lay.

It was clear that every official office had its own number, and anyone glancing at the caller ID would immediately recognize a call originating from the Mayor's office.

"Huh? A call? Oh, why not? Please do!" The Mayor, initially expecting to hear something grand, was relieved to learn that it was merely about a phone call.

He nodded in agreement, reasoning that given the significant contribution, such a request wouldn't pose any real issue.

"Miss Aecilia, please ensure that the Mayor doesn't disturb me for now," Avendial said as he moved towards the phone, his hand inadvertently brushing against the Mayor's seat.

The Mayor, catching a hint of Avendial's command, looked at the woman, who appeared to be seated with her eyes closed.

However, he couldn't shake the chill that crept over him the moment he noticed a fork lying on the desk.

'Oh great, am I now a henchman?' Aecilia thought, feeling a wave of exasperation.

At first, she had merely been his driver, then evolved into his assistant, and now it seemed he was treating her like some sort of ruffian henchman.

Inside the room, there were only three individuals present.

One woman sat elegantly with her eyes closed and hands folded, her leg resting gracefully over the other.

At a distance, a man sat with his head bowed, seemingly puzzled as to why he was being asked to keep an eye out for a mere call.

He struggled to comprehend the purpose behind Marquess' command to the woman—identified as a potential threat—who might intervene if Mayor tried to disrupt the situation.

Meanwhile, Avendial approached the desk with a calm gaze, his hands nestled comfortably in his pockets.

As he walked, his gaze wandered over the pictures adorning the walls, seeming nonchalant to the atmosphere around him.

He reached the phone and dialed a universal number without hesitation.

In the contemporary world, remembering everyone's number—or even saving them in contacts—can be quite a hassle.

This is where services come into play, allowing individuals to obtain contact information for people connected to government or official departments.

Of course, the permission of the individuals concerned is required for their numbers to be shared; typically, it is the wealthy or the families of prominent businesses who opt for this service.

Instead of issuing company cards, they prefer their information to be easily accessible, provided consent is given.

Thus, no personal numbers can be obtained through this service without prior approval. Read exclusive adventures at mvl

As for Avendial, he had no intention of acquiring an ordinary contact number, as that would have been easily done.

There was something else on his mind.

After dialing, as the call was answered, he spoke clearly, "Input Diego family's number."

'!?!'

The mayor, whose emotions had been dampened moments ago, suddenly lifted his head, focusing intently on Marquess as he tried to reach out to the Diego family.

The mayor couldn't understand why Marquess was making that call, but then he recalled that Marquess was looking at the file containing the business deal belonging to the Diego family.

Confusion washed over him as he wondered what exactly the Marquess hoped to achieve by contacting the Diego family.

"Marque—!" the mayor began to inquire, wanting to understand Marquess' intentions.

However, he was abruptly interrupted by a voice capturing his attention, prompting him to slowly turn toward a woman who had just glanced his way.

The chilling golden eyes of hers sent shivers down his spine, triggering memories of the head of the Night Crawlers, who also possessed golden eyes—an unsettling reminder that she belonged to the influential Sertsul family.

The recollection of that past trauma washed over him like a cold wave.

"Hello, please connect me to the head of the Diego family. I'm calling from the mayor's office," Avendial spoke firmly, his call having been directed straight to what was likely one of the secretaries of the Diego family.

He expected the secretary to confirm the authenticity of the call before connecting him to the head of the family, so he fell silent, letting the secretary do what was necessary.

:: Hello, is the mayor speaking? :: came a voice from the other end, rough and hoarse from a middle-aged man—the head of the Diego family.

"....Yes," Avendial responded, suddenly shifting his voice.

Using his other hand to press against his vocal cords, he mimicked the mayor's tone and manner of speaking.

'!'

"Marque!—thud."

The mayor, hearing his own voice come through the line—though not an exact match, but enough to capture the intonation and cadence—instantly straightened in alarm.

Just as he was about to act again, a sound drew his attention: a fruit knife, lying ominously on the desk, had just been thrust down by the woman.

The impact echoed through the room, a clear attempt at intimidation.

"Sit down, you fucking worm, before I feed you to the birds," Aecilia, with a tilt, hissed at the mayor, displaying complete disregard for the fact that he held the highest position in the city of A.

The night crawlers, known for their ruthless efficiency, had already eliminated the previous mayor, and this alarming history weighed heavily on the current one.

The present mayor felt the tension in the room, and it was not lost on him how precarious his situation really was.

Everyone was aware of how the previous mayor had employed night crawlers to assassinate an opposing candidate, only to be double-crossed when the night crawlers, adhering to a strange moral code, tipped off the candidate about the plot.

The candidate, armed with this knowledge, had successfully outbid the mayor in a bidding war and emerged victorious.

The outcome had been disastrous: the former mayor lay dead, and not a single soul dared retaliate against the night crawlers.

Why?

Because the woman behind the entire scheme had boldly stepped forward to reveal she was of noble blood.