Reincarnated as the Villain’s Father

"My lord, you summoned me," said Annabel, but this time, she was wearing ordinary clothes. Still, I could see the effort the maids had poured into her appearance.

Her golden-blonde hair had been lightly styled in soft waves, and a dark eyeliner traced the edges beneath her deep blue eyes. The maids had aimed for simplicity but also to make her as beautiful as possible.

Despite that, Annabel seemed tense. But this time, instead of standing far away, she was within a few steps close enough that I could reach her if I tried.

"Welcome, Anna. Come, sit across from me," I said, nodding toward the chair opposite me. My voice was neither harsh nor overly warm, carefully measured. For this moment, anything more would have been unnecessary.

Annabel hesitated. Perhaps a few weeks ago, her eyes would have been locked to the floor, her steps uncertain. But now, she only paused for a few seconds. Then, measuring each step, she came closer and sat down.

Her eyes briefly met mine. She was still cautious, but she wasn't avoiding me anymore.

"I've been gone for days. Did you know where I was?"

Annabel's lips tightened involuntarily. She was afraid of saying something wrong.

"I don't know, my lord. No one told me where you had gone."

Her voice sounded steady, but to someone who listened carefully, that tension in her one-syllable reply was easy to catch.

I nodded slightly. It was the answer I expected.

"I went on a dungeon expedition with Rebecca."

I kept my tone deliberately plain. I wasn't boasting, nor trying to be dramatic. The weight of the truth was powerful enough on its own.

Annabel's eyes widened, but she quickly composed herself. Behind her eyelids, I could see thoughts colliding in rapid succession.

"I hope you're alright."

"I'm fine. In fact, I'm better than fine." With those words, I gestured to the empty spot beside me.

"Come closer."

Her eyes widened slightly. Not just in surprise, but with a sharp sense of alertness. She was trying to weigh the intent behind the phrase that fell somewhere between a command and an invitation. But she didn't take long.

She rose quietly. Her steps were cautious, but not hesitant. There was still fear in her heart, but now it was veiled beneath a thin layer of duty.

When she reached my side, she stopped a few spans away.

"Anna," I said, locking eyes with her. "I want to give you something I earned in the dungeon."

Her eyes widened again. This time, not just with surprise, but with a complex, layered emotion. Hope, doubt, fear, disbelief. All tangled together.

"Something you earned... in the dungeon? For me?" she whispered.

"Yes."

My answer was clear. One word, but it carried weight. After that, silence fell. What I had said was heavy enough, more would only diminish it.

I ran my fingers over the small metal box I kept in my pocket. Slowly, I drew it out and opened it with care.

From inside, I retrieved a bracelet that shimmered with a subtle, elegant light.

It was no ordinary trinket. Yes, it was graceful, but it also emanated a cold nobility and a nearly sentient aura of power. Purplish-blue veins flowed like currents between the delicate metal rings, and at the center, a small stone pulsed with a soft, living light. The bracelet was alive or as close to living as such a thing could be.

"Do you know what this bracelet is?"

Annabel stared at it. At first, with curiosity. Then, with growing awareness. This wasn't childish awe- this was sharp instinct, untaught but keen. She may not have known exactly what it was, but she could sense its importance.

"No."

"It's a technique acquisition artifact."

Her eyes locked on the bracelet, but her mind was elsewhere now. Her pupils had dilated, and a pale expression spread across her face. For a moment, she seemed to forget how to breathe. Her fingers unconsciously gripped her skirt tightly. Finally, she forced herself to speak.

"You plan to give this... to me?"

"Yes," I said softly. There was no pride or hesitation in my voice, only certainty.

Her gaze returned to the bracelet. This time, her eyes held not just awe, but fear. Because she knew. Everyone knew.

A technique acquisition artifact, one of the most coveted powers money could buy. An item that could grant status- transform lives. A treasure worthy of kings' bribes, if valuable enough.

"My lord… I… I'm not worthy of this," she said, barely a whisper. It wasn't a refusal, just the honest voice of a soul measuring its own worth.

"But I deem you worthy. And that's the only thing that matters."

Annabel bowed her head. Her breathing had quickened, though she tried to maintain control. Her hands trembled where they rested on her knees.

"Why? Why would you give something like this to someone like me?"

Her eyes briefly wandered into the void.

"Because with this bracelet, Anna… I wish to purchase something."

"Purchase… what?" she asked faintly, her shoulders trembling.

"Your mercy."

Annabel's shoulders flinched. barely perceptible, but telling. Her eyes were still distant, but the storm inside her was no longer silent. That sentence, it struck from an angle she never expected.

"My... mercy?" she echoed, in a tone so quiet it sounded like a prayer. A voice that wanted to believe, but was afraid to.

Something cracked inside her, but it wasn't a collapse. It was more like a shell that had long fused with her skin, finally beginning to break.

Because Annabel had never been the one meant to show mercy. Others had dictated her life. By orders, whims, punishments. She had always begged for mercy.

But now... someone -power itself- was asking her for it. With a technique artifact in hand. It was an unfamiliar equation. A painful grace. A transformative offering.

Her eyes slowly returned to mine. This time, her gaze was steady but fragile. As if to say, "If you're mocking me, I'll never believe again."

"What… do you mean by that?" she asked, swallowing hard.

I didn't answer right away. I lowered my gaze to her hands, still trembling. But in those hands was the weight of a lifetime. A lifetime of solitude.

"Lately, I've come to understand just how precious having a family truly is. And you are one of the closest things I have to that. For all the mistakes I've made, for everything I've done to you. I ask for your mercy."

Her eyes widened. This time, the surprise wasn't tinged with fear or suspicion. It was fully human. Raw, unguarded.

Family.

That word had always meant another world to her. Distant. Untouchable. Something one only served, never belonged to.

And now, the man in front of her. Count, master, sometimes a stranger, sometimes a fearsome presence- was saying family. Not from above, but as an equal. She had understood before that I wanted to fix things, but this was the first time she saw how serious I was.

Annabel swallowed. A faint tremor danced at the edge of her lips. She tried to respond, but no sound came. She just sat there for several seconds, silent.

And in that silence, years of hardened emotion began to melt. She didn't look at the bracelet anymore. she looked at me.

"I… I was angry with you," she finally said, voice thin and trembling, but unhidden. "Sometimes I hated you. Sometimes I prayed you'd notice me. But I never… I never imagined you would say that... not even in my sweetest dreams.."

Her eyes glistened, but no tears fell. 

"If you're asking for my mercy now…"

She paused. As if all her feelings had gathered at her lips, but she still didn't know how to shape them.

"Then ask not just for the past but for the future as well."

"I don't need your mercy for the future," I said gently.

"Because I don't intend to hurt you or our son in the future. Quite the opposite. I want to make both of you happy."

Annabel froze.

Our son.

The silence in the room thickened. Her breath quickened. Her fingers intertwined. Not out of fear, but from the overflow of emotion she could no longer suppress.

"Did you… truly mean that?" she asked, her voice unsteady, but carrying a spark of hope. If it was just a meaningless phrase. She wouldn't survive it. But if it was real...

I bowed my head and placed the bracelet in her palm instead of replying. This time, I spoke not with words, but with action. 

"I've never claimed to be a good man or a good father," I mumbled. "But if I have a second chance… I want to earn it… with you, and with our son."

This time, tears slid silently down Annabel's cheeks. She hadn't meant to cry, but her heart had already decided for her. Years of repression compressed into a few minutes.

And then, her hands slowly closed around the bracelet.

Her body trembled, uncertain of what to do. Her heart wanted to embrace me, but her mind told her that would be too much. I could see the conflict clearly.

I said nothing. Because some moments are beyond words.

I stood, slowly. Not harsh, not suddenly. Just stepped closer. I saw her inner conflict, but I didn't wait. Some things shouldn't be waited on. And this moment was one of them.

I opened my arms and embraced her.

At first, she didn't respond. Her body went rigid; her arms hung by her sides; her breath caught in her throat. For someone like her, being hugged wasn't just a gesture. It was a jolt through years of solitude.

Then something inside her cracked.

Slowly, cautiously, trembling, she raised her arms. Her hands brushed my shoulders. Tentative, unsure. Then they wrapped behind my back. And finally, her whole body leaned into me. For that moment, the world disappeared. Her walls, her masks, her silent prayers. All came together in that touch.

It wasn't just comfort. It was a kind of atonement. A fragile, honest connection woven from past sins and future hope.

We didn't speak for a long time.

She simply cried, quietly. Her delicate shoulders shivering, her forehead resting against my chest, pouring herself out. Perhaps for the first time, she felt truly safe in someone's arms.

I gently ran my fingers through her golden hair. It was soft, but the softness was like that of a child long neglected. Annabel was strong, yes. But the kind of strength born from years of being forced to be.

"You're not alone anymore"