Reincarnated as the Villain’s Father

Over the past few days, one thing I'd been meticulously working on was researching my family members. Leonardo was a calculating and pragmatic man, and as such, he'd kept notes on a surprisingly large number of people. Perhaps it was his military background or simply his obsessive nature, but the way he documented everything, even personal or scandalous matters, resembled official military reports. Odd, yet incredibly useful.

Thanks to those records, I gained not only insight into the personalities, powers, and roles of my relatives, but also an understanding of how they viewed Leonardo, the man whose body I now inhabited.

A few days ago, I had sent a letter to the eldest of my three noble-born half-sisters. And this morning, her reply reached me.

How had the letter arrived so quickly? And how had her response returned just as fast? The answer lay in one of this world's marvels of magi-tech: the Teleportation Towers.

These structure, found in nearly every major city across the continent, were outwardly unassuming buildings that housed ancient, complex magical mechanisms. Built along ley lines, they drew power directly from the earth's natural mana flow, allowing for near-instant transportation of small amounts of matter to another structure in the network.

But of course, there were limitations. Each tower had a strict daily weight cap. typically no more than 1,200 kilograms per session. Exceed that, and the results could be catastrophic: objects might arrive mangled, partially erased, or, in the worst cases, explode. damaging both the sender's and receiver's towers.

That's why only aristocrats and high-ranking officials made regular use of the system. For commoners, the cost and risk were prohibitive. The Royal tightly regulated every transfer Engineering Guild and the High Council of Magic. Identities were verified, and magical seals applied to every package.

Human teleportation was the most advanced and expensive service available. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't particularly dangerous or unstable. As long as you paid the fee, the process was completely safe. In fact, nobles, guild leaders, and high officials often used it for intercity travel. Before each jump, the system would scan the body's resonance, magical frequency, and soul stability to ensure a successful transfer. The entire process took mere minutes, one moment you were here, the next there.

In short: fast, flawless, and insanely expensive. Teleporting a living being cost twice as much as a non-living object of equal weight.

In the letter I sent my sister, I'd written that I'd discovered a dungeon designed for two and was looking for someone capable of joining me.

Her reply arrived while my morning coffee was still warm. From the seal alone, I could tell she'd bypassed all official protocol. Either my message had been flagged urgent or she just enjoyed spitting in the face of Royal Council procedure. Both were equally likely. A combination of both? That was how one summoned a curse.

I opened the envelope carefully, and as I read her letter, I felt a slow, wicked smile creep across my face. She, known to the world as the Golden Duchess of the Imperial Academy. had taken a keen interest in my proposal. She even threw in a compliment or two, though I knew those weren't familial in nature. They were political. Even if I was no longer truly Leonardo, the world still saw him when they looked at me. And when he showed an interest in something, it made people nervous.

I'd been upfront about the dungeon: "I could go alone," I wrote, "but I'd get bored." Which, in Leonardian, roughly translated to: "High risk of death, but the rewards are drool-worthy."

My sister was an extremely powerful mage, and like everyone in this world, hungry for more power. Her letter was brief but carefully crafted. Every sentence was weighted, the pauses sharper than the words themselves. And at the end, a single sentence revealed everything I needed to know:

"If this isn't a trap, I'll come with you."

She was the only one in the family who didn't look down on me. the illegitimate child. The only one who seemed to offer support rather than scorn. Or at least, that's what Leonardo's notes had led me to believe.

She was also the ideal companion for the dungeon I had in mind. one the protagonist of the novel only stumbled upon by sheer luck much later. A dungeon filled with rewards I desired deeply. That's why, of all my options, I chose her.

After receiving her response, preparations became inevitable. Dungeons promised riches, yes but they were also infamous for their lethality. Especially this one. Not found on any map. Not spoken of in any tale. Only whispered about by half-mad monks with glowing eyes if you asked the right way.

Its name?

The Vault of the Lost Seal. Later in the story, it would simply be called The Vault. But I remembered the traps, the dual-entry requirement, the obscure symbols carved deep within its halls. No one else knew of it because its existence wasn't documented anywhere. Even the protagonist found it by accident.

But I didn't need accidents. I had prior knowledge.

So I got to work.

Preparing for a dungeon wasn't just about sharpening blades or hoarding potions. Not for this dungeon. The Vault demanded more than physical strength. it tested your mind, your resolve. Traps disguised as puzzles. Sigils that seemed meaningless until they weren't. Mechanisms that only activated if two were present. I knew all this. Because I'd read the novel. And that knowledge gave me the ultimate edge.

First, I crafted the dual resonance seal. an enchantment required to register us as a team. Without it, the dungeon would split us into separate labyrinths upon entry. And the Vault didn't forgive solo intruders.

By the time I finished, the sun had passed its peak. I sent a message to my servants. My sister would arrive any moment now. Someone like her didn't bother with standard teleportation gates. No, she would use the Mystic Purification Stone, a gateway reserved for the highest nobility.

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The servants lined up behind me. I'd asked them to keep a respectful distance, just in case my sister decided to mention something... embarrassing from Leonardo's past I wasn't yet aware of.

A faint shimmer sparked at the door. The telltale hum of a teleportation spell. A soft whisper, then a ripple in the air.

And there she was.

Rebecca.

Her short white hair flowed to her shoulders, silky and smooth with each step. But her hair wasn't what drew attention. nor the regal embroidery of her golden-trimmed robes. Rebecca had a presence that erased the existence of any other woman in the room. Whoever you were, whatever you looked like, your presence evaporated the moment she entered. Her bright blue eyes had turned silver as the light hit her face

She didn't speak at first. Just walked. But her walk- gods, that walk. Perfect posture. A turn of the hips so precise it bordered on theatrical. She looked sculpted by a painter's hand, every movement deliberate.

Her dress, deep violet and form-fitted by spell craft, hugged every curve unapologetically. Her chest stood proud and intimidating. The sharp hourglass of her waist whispered of a woman not only powerful, but dangerously aware of that power. Her hips moved with the weight of command, graceful yet dominating. Her entire body, a blade. beautiful, but lethal.

And yet, it was her stance that struck hardest. Rebecca never wasted words. Never made unnecessary movements. Everything she did was measured. When she sensed a danger, her face didn't flinch. it simply turned colder. And as she looked at me now... I could feel her weighing me.

When her eyes met mine, I felt a childish excitement flutter in my chest. Had I faced her one day one of my reincarnation, I wouldn't have known what to do.

But now? Now I could speak to her as Leonardo.

Or at least as the echo of his memories, strength, and reputation.

She stepped into the center of the room, looked me over, and smiled.

Not a greeting smile. A "What are you plotting?" smile.

Rebecca took a few more steps, glanced around the room, then turned to me.

"Is the dual resonance seal ready?" she asked.

Her voice was steady, melodic. Velvet with an undercurrent of steel. The kind of voice that made you want to obey or run.

"Ready," I said. "I prepared everything. There won't be any issues at the gate."

She nodded slightly. No thanks. No praise. But even that small gesture was enough. Earning value in her eyes meant more than any compliment.

She turned, walking toward the mirror at the far end of the room. As the light shifted, the back of her dress revealed an open cut. subtle, tasteful. The elegant lines of her shoulder blades framed a small glowing glyph etched into her skin. Her body wasn't just art, it was a magical conduit. Every line, every shape, deliberately constructed.

She looked not at herself, but at my reflection in the mirror.

"Don't disappoint me, Leonardo," she said, voice like a blade. "Or this vault will only let one of us out."

And she turned.