A Regressed Villain: Heroines, Villainesses and Me?

"Greetings, Sir Marquess," the owner said, stepping forward. His demeanor was a mix of formality and anxiety, dressed in a black suit and tie that made him look more like a manager than the head of the hotel group. It was evident that he felt the weight of hosting a figure of noble status like Avendial in his establishment.

Typically, nobility preferred to stay in exclusive venues within the Free City, favoring their private hotels or those owned by fellow aristocrats, such as the Das family, who held the title of barons.

If the noblemen chose to stay in a less extravagant hotel, they would likely opt for those in City B, which is renowned for its picturesque landscapes, rather than a hotel group that doesn\'t even rank among the top three in City A like his.

The owner, fraught with the pressure of the moment, found himself in a golden yet precarious situation—any misstep could lead to dire consequences for him.

\'Too many,\' Avendial thought, momentarily disregarding the visibly anxious owner. He surveyed the lobby, noticing several guests attended to by hotel staff, some seated in the hallway flipping through magazines. Most notably, the sheer number of women present stood out.

It was all too clear that these guests belonged to the Sertsul family, a fact that was undeniable.

\'I need to keep them in check,\' Avendial mused, feeling confident that, should any issues arise, he could rely on his backup. However, the constant feeling of being pursued by untrustworthy individuals weighed heavily on his mind. He contemplated ways to keep these people occupied as he made his way out of the hotel, flanked by the anxious manager and the owner.

"Apologies, Marquess, we are from the special forces." Suddenly, three people, wearing glasses and earbuds and dressed in completely black suits, stretched out their hands with a slight bow, showing their identity cards in a respectful manner, revealing their identities as members of the special forces.

\'What timing,\' Avendial thought. Seeing these people, he felt how convenient it was that the government had taken action, given it was a matter of utmost concern and safety of a nobleman roaming freely through the city\'s streets. Looking toward these people, he understood they were there to offer him protection from afar.

"We once again apologize, but Sir, we would like—" The chief of the team was able to introduce the task laid out by the central government to protect Avendial but was halted by him.

"Fine, but remain at a half-mile distance," Avendial said, keeping calm as he made his way towards the black car before taking out his keys and was about to open the door using the smart key.

As he contemplated the situation, Avendial couldn\'t help but draw parallels to the day before. Just like yesterday, he found himself considering the implications of the arriving special forces, which presented a serendipitous opportunity to aid in eliminating the Serts family\'s bias. It struck him that perhaps there was no such thing as luck, merely coincidences at play.

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Yesterday, amid the whirlwind of unfolding events, Avendial had entertained the notion that Aecilia\'s presence had somehow enhanced his fortune.

However, with her absence now apparent, it seemed that theory might have simply been a speculation after all.

"I really should have asked her about Amrita—" Avendial thought to himself. He was about to express how he wished he had tasked Aecilia with gathering information on Amrita, considering that while his primary target was Aria, knowing more about Amrita might prove beneficial in the long run.

Yet, before he could finish his train of thought, he opened the driver\'s side door.

"It might be more pleasant for you to sit comfortably; I can handle the steering."

Avendial\'s eyes twitched at the sight before him. A woman occupied the driver\'s seat, her black hair meticulously tied back. She wore glasses, which framed her calm expression, while bold black lipstick accentuated her striking features.

Her demeanor was relaxed—one hand rested casually on the steering wheel, while the other lay elegantly on her lap.

Dressed in a formal, professor-like ensemble, she radiated confidence. As she regarded him with a small, knowing smile and her eyes remained closed, it was as if she had been patiently awaiting his arrival.

"What brings you here?" Avendial inquired, a hint of amusement creeping into his expression as he recalled his hasty exit from the bathroom. He took a moment to thoroughly inspect the blankets, realizing she had cunningly employed the classic pillow trick to deceive him.

And indeed, he had been outsmarted.

"Isn\'t it obvious? I\'m now a professor," Aecilia replied, effortlessly adjusting her glasses with her fingers. She shrugged her shoulder slightly, a gesture that clearly signified her accomplishment; with her influence, she had successfully secured a position at the academy.

With her arrival, the Elite Academy\'s long-standing rule against appointing professors through personal connections had been decisively overturned.

"Is that so?" Avendial continued to scrutinize her for a moment, his gaze drifting downwards to take in her white shirt, tucked seamlessly into a sleek black skirt that accentuated her waist.

Her legs were elegantly clad in black stockings, leading down to polished high heels that clicked authoritatively against the floor. Her hair was neatly tied into a taut bun, further enhancing her aura of professionalism.

"Marquess, you can infuse my image patiently after taking your seat," Aecilia said, seeing how Avendial was looking towards her clothes. She couldn\'t help but tease him, to which he just gave a blank look as if he was not interested in seeing her dress; he moved towards the seat.

\'Is she really going to teach in that dress?\' Avendial thought as he moved towards his seat, questioning whether Aecilia\'s dress choice was really fitting for teaching.

Although it appeared to be a professor\'s dress, he couldn\'t shake the feeling that any male student would not be able to learn anything today.

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On the highway in sector 18, a young man with pink hair and striking pink eyes was seated in the driver\'s seat of his Ferrari, speeding toward the elite academy.

Just then, his phone rang.

:: Young Master Lin, we\'ve received the postmortem reports; they suspiciously indicate that the victims actually died in a drunk driving incident...::

The voice on the line delivered alarming news regarding the individuals whom Lin Diego had tasked with monitoring a newly arrived professor.

On the same day Lin had last communicated with them, they were found dead in a vehicle that had been burned after crashing into a tree along the highway.

Initially, it had seemed inconceivable that the highly trained mercenaries from the Diego family could perish so easily in an accident.

This prompted an immediate decision to conduct a postmortem examination.

"What? Don\'t joke with me—are you saying they died in an accident? Damn it!" Lin\'s fury ignited as he gripped the steering wheel tighter, feeling the car accelerate beneath him. A sense of unease grew, and he couldn\'t shake the feeling that something was seriously off.

He had never liked that professor from the beginning, but now, with the news of the alleged accident, his anger deepened. There was definitely more to this situation than met the eye.

He had submitted the bodies for examination to one of the most reputable forensic science departments, which was funded by the Sertsul Family.

Considering their nobility and the influence they wield, it would be nearly impossible for anyone to tamper with the forensic findings.

So, did they really just die from a regular accident?