I CHOSE to be a VILLAIN, not a THIRD-RATE EXTRA!!

The four of them stopped before a set of grand, closed gates. The Duke shot a brief, almost hesitant glance at Ashok before he stepped forward, unlocked the gates, and walked inside.

Ashok followed closely behind, his presence commanding, while Cassius and the Head Butler trailed in after him.

The room they entered was vast—at least twice the size of the cabin they had been in earlier. The room's interior was designed to resemble the night sky, an intricate tapestry highlighting the stars.

The ceiling was a work of art, with a massive light fixture at its center to resemble the moon. Magic had been expertly woven into the design of the ceiling beside the moon, creating a starburst pattern that stretched across the dark expanse, glowing softly against the black backdrop.

The walls were adorned with murals, their deep purple clouds swirling seamlessly into shades of blue, creating an atmosphere of vastness and serenity.

The colors seemed to shift with the light, giving the impression of a living night sky that stretched on forever.

'In the game, by the time the player arrives, this room, instead of resembling a starry night, resembles a black coffin—which also gets destroyed by the end of the year,' Ashok thought as he made his way toward the bed at the far end of the room, sticking to the wall opposite the door.

The contrast between what was and what would be was striking—what had once been a symbol of beauty and peace was destined to become a ruin, and Ashok had come here to change that destiny.

The room itself was a mix of opulence and strange, clinical order. Glass-door cabinets lined the walls, reflecting the dim, magical light from the ceiling.

A few bookshelves stood nearby, though they were secondary to the countless cabinets filled with various accessory-type artifacts.

Inside every single cabinet, innumerable accessory-type artifacts shimmered. The sheer volume of these items was overwhelming, far exceeding even Robert's impressive collection.

"Did your daughter want to become a shopkeeper?" asked Ashok jokingly, but there was no response from the Duke or his two aides.

Aside from the sea of accessories, there were only three or four bookshelves scattered around the room, each one crammed with romance novels.

Ashok glanced at the spines of a few, his eyes skimming over titles like The Princess and the Knight, The Werewolf and the Princess, Where to Find the Hidden Prince and others.

The overwhelming theme was clear—most of the books were centered around princes and princesses, fantastical tales of love.

"Tch! Not a single fantasy book. Waste of life," said Ashok as he clicked his tongue again, his words dripping with disappointment. He couldn't help it—he was an avid reader of the fantasy genre, always seeking out tales of adventure, magic, and mythical creatures.

Romance Novels never held much appeal to someone like him.

The Duke turned sharply, his eyes narrowing as he shot a glare at Ashok but Ashok met the Duke's gaze without flinching, "What? Any objections?".

The Duke turned around again, clearly uninterested in continuing the conversation with Ashok on that topic.

'If this girl were on earth, she would have been introduced to the twisted side of romance, the kind that should stay confined to the pages of books but somehow leaks into reality.

The aspect called N…T…R.' thought Ashok as he suppressed laughter.

He couldn't help but imagine the young girl, so wrapped up in her idealized tales of princes and princesses, encountering something so far removed from the fairy tale world. He smirked, knowing full well that if she ever came across something like that, it would devastate her.

Ashok's gaze shifted to the giant king-size bed at the far end of the room, its frame surrounded by translucent curtains that gently swayed in the air. From outside the soft fabric, a blurry silhouette lay sleeping on the bed.

The four of them walked silently to the side of the bed, and Ashok noticed multiple empty wooden flasks scattered across the bedside table.

Ashok raised an eyebrow, his tone skeptical as he looked at the Duke. "What are you feeding her?"

"Brew of Life," the Duke replied.

For a brief moment, Ashok couldn't believe what he was hearing. Despite his doubts, he asked again, "What purity?"

"One Percent," said Duke.

'What a blatant waste of money' thought Ashok.

Brew of Life is the diluted Elixir of Life.

The Elixir of Life itself was said to be capable of curing any illness or poison in the world, even those that were deemed incurable. It held the remarkable ability to restore life to a person, regardless of their rank, or how close they were to the door of death.

The Elixir is created by the Elves by harnessing the extremely pure life energy released by the World Tree. Every year, only one or two vials of the Elixir are produced, making it of immense value, sought after by all races for its unmatched healing and life-restoring properties.

However, due to the high demand from kingdoms, noble houses, and factions across the world, the Elixir is often diluted to make it accessible to a wider audience.

One percent is the highest purity available for the Brew of Life, and even at that level, only a hundred vials can be created from a single Elixir of Life. This is a rarity reserved only for the highest echelons of society—the royalty of each race.

Normally, the Brew of Life created for ordinary nobles has a purity of only 0.01%, where ten thousand vials can be produced from a single Elixir of Life. For commoners, there is no purity available at all.

'Just how many did this rich fool feed her?' Ashok wondered.

The Brew of Life at 1% purity can extend a person's life by at least a decade, and here he was already seeing four empty flasks alone.

This comatose girl, who was likely only sixteen years old, now had a life expectancy that far surpassed normal humans—thanks to her father's actions, she likely has an extended lifespan of 300 to 500 years, placing her in the same league as an elf.

'Though all the life expectancy will be meaningless if she can't win over the entity inside her,' Ashok thought with a sigh.

The Duke slowly removed the curtain, revealing a beautiful but malnourished girl. Her sky-blue hair, just like the Duke's, framed a face that would have been extremely beautiful if not for the skin and muscles clinging to her bones like a malnourished child.

She was covered in a blanket to the neck with her arms outside placed over her chest. Her chest moved ever so slightly with each shallow breath, a weak and fragile sign of life in an otherwise still figure.

Her arms rested limply over her chest, the skeletal limbs almost resembling the pose of a corpse.

Ashok was not much surprised seeing her condition and he asked, "Why are you feeding her brews of life when she is in this state?"

"A Great Healer recommended the brew twice a week together with other potions that would replace the need for food," said the Duke. He slowly sat beside his daughter, his hand trembling ever so slightly as he reached out to gently brush her sky-blue hair.

"Was that Healer an Elf?" asked Ashok.

"Yes," said the Head Butler.

"As expected," Ashok replied, letting out a little laugh.

"How will you cure her; the witch is dead? So now there should be no one fighting for her body," the Duke's tone was devoid of patience, the frustration clear. He had no interest in Ashok's idle musings or laughter; his only focus was on his daughter, on finding a way to save her.

Ashok settled onto the edge of the bed, his weight shifting the blanket slightly as he glanced at the Duke and the others with an amused smirk. "After hearing about the witch's power, did you think that she was the one trying to possess your daughter's body?"

The Duke, Cassius, and the Head Butler all turned toward him, their faces a blend of confusion and incredulity. The unspoken question in their eyes was clear: What do you mean?

"HAHAHA! How naïve." Said Ashok as he laughed shaking his head in amusement.

BANG!

The Duke slammed his fist onto the bedside, the force sending a few flasks tumbling to the floor with a sharp clatter.

"SPEAK CLEARLY! STOP TALKING IN RIDDLES!" he shouted.

His eyes, red-rimmed and clouded with emotion, locked onto Ashok. Small droplets of tears glistened as they traced down his cheeks, the evidence of his grief and desperation now impossible to ignore.

The Duke couldn't fathom how Ashok could laugh in the face of such dire circumstances. His daughter lay on the brink of death, her body now looking like an empty shell, and here was Ashok, chuckling as if it were some sort of joke.

If it weren't for Ashok's vast knowledge, he would have surely killed him over a thousand times by now and removed this seed of unbearable arrogance from the world.

"First, calm down! There is no point shouting at me. Shouting at me will not cure your daughter," Ashok said in his usual commanding tone.

The Head Butler slowly approached the Duke and rubbed his shoulder while handing him a glass of water, hoping to calm him.

Though his movements were gentle, his eyes showed what he was truly feeling on the inside. He was glaring at Ashok, his gaze sharp and filled with an unmistakable grudge.

Cassius stood nearby, equally disturbed by Ashok's behavior in situations like these.