Ascension Of The Villain

The sterile silence of the interrogation room was broken only by the rhythmic tap of Vyan's polished shoe against the cold floor. He sat there with one leg crossed over the other, a figure of poised defiance, his tight smile as controlled as his demeanor.

Across from him stood a military official, his blue stars showing his high rank. But Vyan's attention wasn't on him, not entirely. His crimson eyes flickered toward the other figure leaning against the wall—Easton, who looked as unbothered as if he were sitting in his own palace chambers.

Vyan raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into something that resembled a polite mockery. "Sir McHold," he began, voice calm but laced with sarcasm, "may I ask what he is doing here?" He casually gestured toward Easton as if pointing out an inconvenience rather than a prince.

Watson straightened up, eyes narrowing slightly. "As a prince, he has the authority to be here."

"Right, right," Vyan mused, fingers tapping lightly against the armrest. He tilted his head thoughtfully before asking, "Okay then, where is Sir...?" His words trailed off as he realized he couldn't recall Terrence's last name. Vyan's lips twitched in amusement—ah, Iyana had never bothered with it. "Where is Sir Terrence?" he asked politely.

Watson cleared his throat, barely masking his irritation at the arrogant man sitting on the chair. He hated these sort of privileged men who thought they could get away with everything because of their titles. "He has already left for the day."

Vyan's brows rose in mock surprise. "So, let me get this straight," he leaned forward, folding his hands, "you called me in for an interrogation while your 'superior' officers are already off-duty?"

"Excuse me!" Watson puffed out his chest, voice bristling with indignation, as Terrence and Watson held the same ranks. "I am a very high-ranking officer as well!"

Easton sighed dramatically from the corner, pushing off the wall and stepping forward, visibly tired of Watson's blustering. "Why don't you let me handle this, Sir McHold?" He personally wasn't a fan of his, but he was his only shot. He knew if he pointed out how Vyan was getting way too many privileges due to his title, Watson would be the only one to help him out

Vyan leaned back casually in his seat and crossed his arms casually. "It doesn't matter who takes charge here," he said, his tone smooth but edged with defiance, "you can't make me talk if I don't want to."

Easton's lips quirked into a subtle smirk. "That's perfectly fine, Your Grace." His eyes glinted with amusement, though there was something darker beneath it. "You don't have to talk." He paused, his eyes flicking over Vyan's form. "How about we start with removing all these accessories?"

Vyan blinked, then gave an incredulous laugh. "What, because I am going to murder you with my brooch?" He lifted a hand to touch the elegant pin on his necktie, eyes sparkling with amused disbelief.

"Maybe," Easton replied with a faint shrug, his smirk deepening. "Or maybe you are a mage, and we just don't know it yet. If that happens to be the case, we will have to put mana-restraining cuffs on you. And to find that out, we will need to do a mana detection test, just to be sure."

Vyan's scoff echoed through the room, a dry sound that matched the biting taunt in his voice. "I am not sure if you bothered to know, but I don't possess any mana, I have got a verified certificate stating as much."

"Still," Easton countered, his voice smooth as silk, "better safe than sorry."

At Easton's signal, Watson produced a mana detection artifact from the table's drawer, placing it in front of Vyan with a thud. "So," Easton said, "are you going to take those things off yourself, or shall we assist?"

Vyan's expression remained smug. He glanced lazily from the artifact to Easton and asked, his voice low and daring, "Are you threatening to force a grand duke? How charming."

Easton's threatening smile didn't waver. "Nobody has to know what goes on in an interrogation room," he replied with a nonchalant shrug.

Vyan's gaze burned for a moment, a flicker of something more dangerous lighting his eyes. "You have no idea what I am capable of when I get out of here."

"Oh, I am aware," Easton challenged. "But you are not getting out of doing this test."

Vyan once again leaned back against the stiff chair as if this whole interrogation was nothing more than a casual conversation. "Okay, fine," he drawled, raising his hands in a mock surrender. "Because it doesn't matter either way. After all, you are just going to be disappointed when you find out I am utterly and pathetically incapable of performing magic."

Easton let out a scoff, shaking his head with a soft, incredulous chuckle. "You are such a liar, you know that?"

"Not that I am aware of," he intoned.

"Off with the accessories now, will you?" Easton reminded sternly.

"Let's be more civil, Your Imperial Highness." Vyan reached for his single earring, slipping it off with nonchalance, followed by the brooch on his necktie. "No need to be so rude." Each piece was removed with a slow pace, almost as if to mock them. "I don't usually put these things on myself. It is bound to take time."

"Why, do you usually use magic to put them on?" Easton arched an eyebrow.

"Oh, I wish," Vyan sighed dramatically. "However, I make do just fine with my kind maids and butlers," he added, putting down his cufflinks, their soft click against the table's surface a dooming reminder of his next accessory.

He paused, fingers brushing over the silver bracelet on his wrist, ready to move on to chains attached to his coat when—

"That bracelet too," Easton pointed out sharply, catching Vyan's slight hesitation.

Vyan froze for a beat too long, his fingers lingering over the bracelet as if debating whether to remove it. His expression betrayed a flicker of something deeper—something carefully hidden beneath layers of bravado.

Slowly, he unclasped the bracelet, the metallic chime it made against the table louder than the previous pieces.

Easton's eyes narrowed, watching every movement. This bracelet... He couldn't ignore the subtle reluctance, the near-silent defiance as Vyan parted with it. That must be it. It's the tool he uses to block anybody from sensing his mana. The thought flashed through Easton's mind like a bolt of lightning, and a triumphant thrill surged through him.

This was it—the moment of truth.

"Now," Easton said, stepping closer to the table, his voice level but laced with a hidden anticipation, "touch the mana detector." His hand gestured to the artifact resting ominously on the table. "If it glows red, we will know you are hiding something. Green means you are in the clear."

Vyan's expression remained unbothered, though a flicker of something—annoyance? Or fear?—crossed his features.

With a sigh, he reached out and placed his palm on the cool surface of the detector, acting as if the entire situation bored him to tears. But the room seemed to hold its breath with Easton.

Seconds passed.

The artifact remained dull for a moment, the silence almost deafening in the small, sterile room. Then, without warning, a crimson glow flared to life beneath Vyan's hand. Red—deep and undeniable—spilled across the room like a scarlet accusation.

Easton's heart leapt, his eyes lighting up with a mixture of triumph and vindication. He let out a sharp, victorious exhale, the corners of his mouth lifting into a rare, genuine smile.

"Yes!" Easton had won the battle. Now, all that was left was to destroy Vyan Blake Ashstone for once and for all. "You will pay for your crimes now, Grand Duke Vyan Blake Ashstone," he exclaimed, hoping to rub it on Vyan's face.

However, Vyan's reaction wasn't what he had expected—he smiled.