A Psychopath Reborn as a Third-rate Villain

Andras returned to his room as the last light of evening faded from the academy grounds.

The corridor outside was quiet; most students already settled for the night. When he pushed the door open, Lyra looked up at once from where she had been arranging the evening lamp. Her eyes moved over him carefully, then stopped. The wounds were gone—sealed cleanly by the potion Calista Veyne had given him—but the evidence of what had happened remained. His uniform was torn in several places, the fabric stiffened with dried blood, and fine dust from shattered stone still clung to the sleeves and hem.

"Young Master..." Her voice was low, edged with immediate concern.

"I’m fine," Andras said before she could finish. "The injuries have already been treated."

Lyra’s hands tightened slightly at her sides. She took a half-step closer, gaze lingering on the dark stains. "Your clothes—"

"I’ll explain." He set his sword aside against the wall and began unfastening the ruined outer layer. "But before that, make me a meal. I haven’t eaten since morning."

She hesitated only a second, then nodded. "At once."

While Lyra moved to the small preparation area attached to the room, Andras changed out of the damaged uniform. Clean clothes removed the worst of the dungeon’s residue, though a faint metallic scent of blood still lingered at the edge of his awareness. He washed his hands and face, the water running briefly pink before clearing, then sat at the table. By the time he settled, a simple but proper meal was already waiting—warm bread, sliced meat, and a bowl of thick stew that still steamed faintly in the evening air.

He had taken only a few bites when Echo Resonance stirred.

A familiar vibration—thin, precise, and directed—brushed against his senses from the direction of the desk. The Crystal Orb was glowing with a soft, steady light.

Andras set his utensils down. "Lyra. Bring me the orb."

She retrieved it without question and placed it carefully in his hand. Andras channeled a thin thread of mana into the crystal. The glow stabilized, and a moment later Evelyne Darkmoor’s face resolved within the light.

Her expression was already tight. The background behind her suggested one of the private chambers at Darkmoor Manor—dim, ordered, and free of unnecessary ornament.

"Andras."

"Mother."

"Mana portals have begun appearing across the empire," she said without preamble. "Not only in the capital. Multiple regions. Some near major cities, others in remote territories and along trade routes. The reports are still incomplete, but the scale is larger than anyone expected. The imperial court is already demanding explanations no one can provide."

Andras’s eyes narrowed slightly.

So the dungeon had not been an isolated incident.

"I know," he said.

Evelyne’s gaze sharpened through the orb’s light. "How?"

"I entered one."

For a moment she said nothing. When she spoke again, the composure in her voice had thinned, replaced by something closer to controlled urgency. "Why?"

"I didn’t choose to. During combat training at the academy, a portal formed inside the hall without warning. Romeo Ravenhart and I were pulled in together. The interior was a series of stone corridors filled with hostile creatures. We fought our way forward. There was a stronger creature at the end—far above the others. Romeo did not survive."

Evelyne studied him carefully. "You killed him."

It was not a question.

"Yes." Andras met her gaze without hesitation. "I already told you I intended to remove him when the opportunity arose. The dungeon provided a cleaner one than anything I had planned. No witnesses. No public confrontation. Only a report that he died fighting a monster."

Silence stretched between them for a breath.

"His family will not accept that explanation easily," Evelyne said. "Count Ravenhart is not a fool. Even if the academy reports that Romeo died inside an unknown space, there will be doubt. Especially with only you returning. People will notice the convenience of it."

"I expect there will be."

"And if that doubt turns into open accusation? Or worse—quiet retaliation?"

Andras’s voice remained calm. "Then I hope they are wise enough not to act on it. If they are not..." He paused, expression unchanged. "I will simply finish the entire Ravenhart house."

Evelyne regarded him for a long moment. She had never been a woman who flinched from necessary violence, only from wasteful displays of it.

"Be careful," she said at last. "Portals appearing across the world change more than the balance between two houses. The empire is unsettled. Do not draw unnecessary attention while the court and the great families are still reacting. Keep your head down at the academy for now."

"I will."

They spoke a little longer—about the academy’s immediate response, the headmistress’s involvement, and the need to remain measured in public. Evelyne asked a few precise questions about the creatures and the space’s structure. Andras answered only what was useful. When the connection finally closed, the orb’s light faded, leaving the room quieter than before.

Lyra had remained still throughout the call, standing near the wall with her hands clasped. Now she looked at him, worry clear in her eyes.

"Young Master... are you truly all right?"

"I am," Andras said. "The potion handled the injuries. Nothing remains."

She did not look entirely convinced. Her gaze flicked once more to the discarded, bloodstained uniform folded near the door. "If you need anything else—"

"I don’t. Prepare fresh clothes for tomorrow and rest."

"Yes, Young Master."

Andras returned to the meal without further comment. The food was simple, but after the long day it was enough. Outside, the academy continued its evening routines as though nothing unusual had occurred. Inside his room, two new talents sat quietly within him, and one more obstacle had been removed from his path.

---

Far from Ambrose Academy, the Ravenhart estate received the formal notice before night had fully settled.

The messenger from the academy was received in the main hall under the tall ancestral banners. Count Elias Ravenhart stood near the center of the room as the sealed letter was opened and read aloud. The language was careful. Controlled. Romeo Ravenhart had been drawn into an unknown spatial anomaly during combat training. He had fought alongside Andras Darkmoor of House Darkmoor. He had not returned. The dominant creature within the space had been confirmed slain. An exit had formed only after its death. The academy extended its formal condolences and offered full cooperation in any further inquiry.

When the messenger finished, silence filled the hall.

Then Romeo’s mother made a broken sound.

She sank into the nearest chair as though her legs had given out, hands covering her face as the first sobs tore free. The noise was raw and unrestrained, the kind of grief that had no interest in dignity or the watching attendants. One of the maids moved toward her at once, but the countess waved her away without looking up, shoulders shaking.

Elias did not move.

He stared at the sealed notice still held in the attendant’s hands, jaw tight, eyes fixed on words that refused to become real. His son had been strong. Talented. Ambitious enough to reach for more than his current position allowed. The idea that Romeo had died inside some inexplicable space—while Andras Darkmoor walked back out unharmed—sat wrong in his chest like a stone that would not settle.

"Only the Darkmoor boy returned," Elias said quietly.

The attendant lowered his head. "Yes, my lord. That is what the headmistress reported. No other students were drawn in."

Elias’s fingers curled slowly at his side.

Suspicion rose at once, cold and immediate. A portal none of them understood. A battle with no surviving witnesses except the one person who benefited most from Romeo’s absence. A single survivor from a rival house whose engagement to Seraphina Valebright had already complicated matters between their families. It would have been easy—too easy—for something deliberate to happen in a place where no one else could see and no one else could contradict the official account.

And yet...

An image of Evelyne Darkmoor entered his mind unbidden. Not the political figure who moved through imperial circles with measured precision, but the woman whose reputation had never been built on careless moves. If Andras had killed Romeo in a way that could be easily proven, Evelyne would already be preparing for the consequences. The fact that the academy’s report was clean, and no immediate accusation had been made. That suggested either an uncomfortable truth—or a level of control Elias could not yet prove.

His hands slowly unclenched.

The thought did not erase the suspicion. It only forced it into a colder, quieter place. Grief could wait for the funeral rites. Doubt could wait for evidence. For now, the house of Ravenhart would mourn in public, accept the academy’s account without open challenge, and watch.

Elias Ravenhart turned away from the messenger.

"Prepare the formal responses," he said, voice steady. "Send word that we will receive Romeo’s remains if they can be recovered. And keep this within the family until I say otherwise."

Behind him, his wife’s crying continued, unanswered.

The count did not look back.

Suspicion toward Andras Darkmoor remained.

But for the moment, it remained unspoken.

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