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

The girl's recovery, though limited, was undeniable. Her malnourished body had gained a touch of vitality, her skin now holding a faint glow where pallor once dominated, and her breathing had returned to a steady, normal rhythm—a significant improvement from her previously shallow gasps. Read exclusive adventures at My Virtual Library Empire

Yet, as the changes slowed and eventually halted, it was clear that the process had only just begun.

Ashok stood unfazed, observing the halted progress with a faintly amused smirk. "Hmm. Lesser than my expectations, but it's fine," he remarked.

The Duke, Cassius, and the Head Butler all turned their eyes toward him, questions burning behind their gazes.

None dared to voice their thoughts, but their expressions said it all: how had such an unorthodox method—a single symbol etched in blood, combined with a potion—achieved results when all else had failed?

The Duke, in particular, felt the weight of this question. He had exhausted every possible remedy, feeding his daughter countless potions of all kinds, yet none had even come close to yielding results. Surely, the symbol had played a pivotal role in this recovery.

The Head Butler, though battered and weary, found his focus drawn entirely to Ashok. His body still ached from the ordeal, but the intrigue surrounding the symbol overshadowed his pain.

Even Cassius, standing silently by his side, could not keep the flicker of curiosity from his otherwise stoic expression.

"There is no need to look at me like that," Ashok began, his tone sharp but measured as his piercing gaze swept across the room. "Let me make one thing clear: don't place all your hopes on that symbol. It's not the cure. I created it for one purpose only—to buy time. Time for your daughter... and for me."

The Duke, still seated with his daughter resting against him, met Ashok's eyes with a mix of curiosity and urgency. "Can you explain?" he asked.

Ashok crossed his arms, his expression calm yet calculated. "The symbol on your daughter's body acts as a kind of wall."

"A wall?" Cassius repeated, his voice laced with confusion.

Ashok, as though entirely unimpressed by Cassius's lack of understanding, chose to ignore him. Instead, his attention remained fixed on the Duke.

His voice carried the weight of authority as he continued, "Your wife created a barrier around your daughter's soul to protect her from the entity. What I've done is similar—but with a twist. I've created a wall between the entity's soul and your daughter's soul.

The Duke's brows furrowed deeply, his mind racing to piece together the implications of Ashok's words.

Ashok exhaled and elaborated "In simple terms, the entity is now trapped together with your daughter. It can neither attack your daughter's soul nor interact with her in any way. On the other hand, your daughter cannot harm the entity, unlike before.

The constant struggle, the battle between their souls—it's temporarily suspended. I've created a fragile truce, a temporary peace, in the war your daughter began."

The room remained silent as Ashok's words hung in the air. What he had revealed was difficult to comprehend—a solution so unorthodox, so far removed from conventional means, that it sounded almost absurd. Yet, as they watched the slight recovery of the Duke's daughter, they could not deny the truth unfolding before their eyes.

Ashok, sensing their lingering confusion and disbelief, interrupted their thoughts with his calm, deliberate voice. "I understand this doesn't sound much like a cure, but the combination of the symbol and the Mind Recovery Potion is the best approach for your daughter's condition. This method allows her to begin regaining her strength."

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "You've been feeding her brews of life, haven't you?" His eyes flicked briefly to the Duke. "But it was meaningless. Lifeforce affects the body—it strengthens physical vitality—but it does nothing for the mind or soul. It's like patching a roof while ignoring the crumbling foundation beneath."

The Duke's lips pressed into a thin line, his expression tense but contemplative, as Ashok continued. "The Mind Recovery Potion, however, is different. It works on healing the mind, addressing the damage inflicted there.

As her mind begins to heal, the connection between the mind and body allows her physical form to respond accordingly, which is why her body showed signs of recovery just now.

And it doesn't end there. Once her mind heals enough, her advantage over the entity's soul will increase. Remember—this is her body. It belongs to her. That fundamental truth gives her an edge."

Ashok's words hung heavy in the air, filling the room with an ominous tension. The Duke, struggling to grasp the complexities of the situation, asked, "What should I do now?"

Ashok's eyes flicked over to the Head Butler, his expression calm yet pointed. "You? Nothing much," he replied, his tone steady. "The main task falls to the old man over here."

The Head Butler, who had endured more than his fair share of hardship, felt a familiar sense of dread creep up his spine. His instincts warned him that whatever was coming wouldn't be easy. "What do you mean by that?" he asked cautiously, his voice tinged with both fatigue and suspicion.

Ashok didn't answer directly. Instead, he posed a question of his own, his gaze unwavering. "Do you think the symbol is permanent?"

The Head Butler's stomach twisted as the implications of Ashok's words dawned on him. "You can't mean—" he started, only to be cut off by Ashok's interruption. "What you're thinking is correct."

Without waiting for further argument, Ashok turned his attention to the Duke, his sharp eyes glinting with focus. "Can you turn her again?" he asked, his voice calm but commanding. "I need to see the symbol."

The Duke gently laid his daughter down, ensuring her back was fully exposed. The faint red shine of the symbol pulsed softly, its glow just visible under the dim light of the room. Ashok stepped closer, his gaze fixed on the intricate design as he began to speak, his tone matter-of-fact but firm.

"Now, pay close attention," Ashok instructed. "Notice how the symbol gives off a faint red shine? When you see that shine start to dim—that's your cue, old man." His eyes shifted to the Head Butler. "That's the moment you need to start channeling your mana into the symbol again."

The Head Butler's heart sank, dread creeping into his expression. The weight of those words hit him like a stone, and his knees nearly gave out beneath him. Cassius, quick to act, grabbed the older man's arm and steadied him, his grip firm and supportive.

Ashok, unfazed by the Head Butler's visible exhaustion, pressed on. "You don't need to be scared," he said, his tone sharp but not entirely unsympathetic. "This time, it won't demand as much mana as before—so long as you act quickly. The sooner you notice the shine fading and begin channeling your mana, the less you'll have to supply. Timing is everything."

He paused for a moment, his gaze hardening. "But let me make it clear: the later you are to react, the more mana the symbol will require to stabilize. I don't think I need to spell out what could happen if you're too late."

Ashok's words landed like another weight on the already weary shoulders of the Head Butler. His casual tone and smiling face did little to soften the blow. "You better start recovering, you know," Ashok said, his smile almost mocking.

"In about four hours, you'll need to begin another session. Clean and polish your veins, and don't forget to ask the Duke for mana potions to replenish your reserves."

The Head Butler's stomach churned at the mention of mana potions, the memory of the excruciating pain still fresh in his mind. To him, the potion no longer felt like a remedy—it was a poison, a harrowing ordeal he wished to avoid.

Yet, knowing he had no other choice, he swallowed his dread and silently returned to his lotus position. His focus shifted back to cleaning his veins, every movement measured, his resolve unbroken despite the challenges.

Meanwhile, the Duke, still holding his daughter close, broke the silence with a question. "What about the Mind Recovery Potion?"

Ashok's sharp gaze shifted to the Duke, his tone calm and precise. "Once every three days," he answered confidently. "You don't want your daughter to develop resistance to the potion. It needs time to work, and overuse would only hinder its effectiveness."

The Head Butler nearly coughed blood hearing that, the absurdity of it struck him like a blow—if the Young Miss could develop resistance to the Mind Recovery Potion, was he not also susceptible to the same with mana potions?

The implications were maddening. To him, Ashok's suggestion sounded like a cruel double-edged sword: not only would he risk building resistance to the potions, but addiction as well, a combination that could irreparably harm his natural mana recovery in the long run.