A Psychopath Reborn as a Third-rate Villain

Chapter 12: Boundaries and Obedience

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound echoed repeatedly from outside Andras’s room.

"Young Master... may I come in?"

Lyra’s voice drifted through the door once again, softer this time yet tinged with unease.

"Young Master?"

Still, no answer came from inside.

Outside the room, Lyra tightened her grip on the tray in her hands. Worry slowly spread across her face.

Yesterday had been the first day Andras had awakened after remaining unconscious for three days. Even now, the memory of seeing him lying motionless on that bed lingered in her mind.

What if something had happened again?

She knocked harder.

"Young Master!"

Silence.

Lyra bit her lower lip.

Normally, entering his room without permission would risk provoking his anger. The old Andras had punished servants for far smaller offenses.

But after several moments of hesitation, concern finally overcame fear.

She slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit by the fading orange glow of evening sunlight. Long shadows stretched across the floor while a cool breeze stirred the curtains near the windows.

Andras lay peacefully upon the bed.

Asleep.

Lyra immediately released a quiet breath of relief, though the worry in her chest did not disappear completely.

Carefully, she approached the bed before gently shaking his shoulder.

"Young Master..."

---

ANDRAS’S POV:

Sleep faded slowly.

The first thing Andras saw upon opening his eyes was Lyra’s face hovering above him.

Her dark eyes were filled with concern.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke.

He simply looked at her.

And she stared back.

The silence felt strangely awkward.

Then—

A low chuckle escaped Andras.

He found her expression unexpectedly amusing.

The concern on her face was genuine. Painfully obvious, even.

Meanwhile, Lyra visibly relaxed after confirming that he was unharmed. The tension in her shoulders eased.

Andras pushed himself upright against the headboard.

"What happened?"

Lyra lowered her gaze slightly.

"I knocked several times, Young Master, but you didn’t answer. I became worried..."

"I was sleeping."

His answer was simple.

Lyra nodded.

"It is time for dinner. Would you prefer to eat in the dining hall, or shall I bring the meal here?"

"Bring it here."

"As you wish."

Lyra turned toward the door.

But before she could leave—

"Wait."

She stopped immediately.

"Bring the strongest alcohol stored in the estate as well."

For a brief moment, surprise flashed across her face.

"But, Young Master... you shoul drink when you are not perfectly fine.

Andras frowned.

How annoying.

A faint irritation surfaced within him.

Slowly, he lifted his gaze toward Lyra.

His eyes turned cold.

"I know that already."

His voice was flat.

"Just bring it."

Lyra froze.

Andras’s expression hardened slightly.

"Do what I tell you to do."

His voice became noticeably colder.

"Yesterday, I already warned you. Your duty is to follow my orders—not give me your opinions."

Lyra flinched.

"I... I understand, Young Master."

Lowering her head immediately, she hurried from the room.

The door closed behind her.

Andras leaned back against the bed, his expression returning to normal.

Several minutes later, Lyra returned carrying another tray.

This time, alongside the food, sat a dark glass bottle filled with expensive rum imported from the southern ports of Valtharyn.

She carefully arranged everything on the table beside the bed.

The aroma of freshly prepared food quickly filled the room.

Dinner within noble households was always extravagant.

Slices of roasted lamb covered in herb sauce rested upon polished silver plates.

Fresh bread, still warm from the ovens, sat beside bowls of butter and melted cheese.

There were grilled river prawns seasoned with black spices, accompanied by creamy mushroom soup.

Honey-glazed potatoes occupied one side of the table, alongside roasted vegetables prepared with fragrant oils imported from distant territories.

Even the wine glasses were crafted from crystal.

Andras began eating quietly.

Every movement was calm and refined, perfectly matching the etiquette expected of a noble heir.

The memories of the original owner made such behavior feel effortless.

Lyra stood nearby in silence while waiting for him to finish.

Meanwhile, Andras uncorked the bottle and poured himself a glass.

The scent alone was strong.

Good.

After finishing his meal, he drank slowly while Lyra stepped forward to collect the empty dishes.

Then—

"Stop."

Lyra froze instantly.

Andras placed the glass on the table and looked directly at her.

"Come here."

She hesitated briefly before obeying.

A moment later, she sat across from him.

"Look at me."

Her body stiffened.

Even so, she slowly raised her eyes until they met his.

The atmosphere in the room immediately grew heavier.

Andras leaned back in his chair, holding the glass loosely in one hand.

Then he spoke.

"Yesterday, you entered my room without knocking."

Lyra lowered her gaze slightly.

"And today," he continued, "you did the same thing again."

His eyes narrowed.

"You also tried telling me what I should and should not do."

Lyra’s fingers tightened around her maid uniform.

Andras’s voice turned colder.

"Are you incapable of understanding simple instructions?"

The pressure in the room intensified.

Lyra flinched.

"I-I was only worried about you, Young Master..."

"That is not your decision to make."

His response came immediately.

"You are a servant. Your role is to obey."

Lyra fell silent.

Andras took another sip of rum before setting the glass down.

The alcohol burned pleasantly as it slid down his throat.

"Do not mistake concern for permission," he said quietly.

"The next time you choose to ignore my words because of your emotions, the outcome will not be pleasant for you."

Lyra immediately lowered her head.

"I understand."

Andras observed her silently.

Despite the fear visible in her expression, he could still see something else hidden beneath it.

Attachment.

Loyalty.

Perhaps even affection.

How troublesome.

Emotions made people predictable.

Yet they also made them dangerous in entirely different ways.

Still...

For now, Lyra remained useful.

And loyal servants were difficult to find.

Andras picked up the bottle and poured another glass.

The amber liquid reflected the dim light of the room.

Outside the windows, darkness had already swallowed the estate.

Only the faint glow of enchanted lamps illuminated the distant corridors beyond his chamber.

Andras took another slow drink while Lyra remained seated across from him, too nervous to move without permission.

The room fell silent once more.

Heavy.

Tense.

Yet strangely calm.