Transmigrated as the Villain: I Will Destroy Fate

Irene looked more tired than shocked when he said that, as if she had to convince a child Santa wasn’t real. Because to her, Ronan beating Brutas was the same as Santa being real.

"Brutas isn’t some random student," Irene said flatly. "He’s physically stronger, has a clear combat path, and has more experience."

"So?"

Irene looked at him like he was insane.

Ronan didn’t respond.

There was silence for a bit.

"Is that all?"

"You’re playing with something you don’t understand," Irene said.

"I don’t think so," Ronan replied. "I think I understand this quite well."

She stared at him.

"What are you actually after?"

"Brutas’s rank," Ronan said. "An audience. Resources."

He didn’t bother lying.

"So this about your pride? You want to show off you’re not actually a failure in front of an audience?"

She wasn’t wrong.

He did want to do that, but not because of some sense of pride or ego. It simply worked towards his future plans.

"Yes," Ronan said. "This is about my pride. Will that help you back off?"

Irene sighed at that. Even she could tell the clear sarcasm in those words.

She seemed to think. Her expression turned into one of realization.

Irene then softened slightly, her tone shifting into something more cautious and sympathetic.

"Do you plan to manipulate the duel itself through bribes and underhanded tactics?" She asked. "I can’t say I agree, but if that’s true, then I can’t help but feel you have the right idea considering your lack of skill. If that’s so, Father and I will help with that so you don’t make any mistakes, don’t go about this alone."

Ronan found the gesture almost touching. Looks like Irene did care on some level.

"I plan to win inside the rules."

Irene looked at him like he was crazy.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"Again, is that all?" Ronan asked.

"Father will hear about this."

"I assumed so."

"He will not be pleased."

"Vulcan is rarely pleased by what I do, so that’s not a shocker either."

She paused. "Are you trying to drag Ashbourne down with you?"

"Of course not," Ronan said evenly, a small smile creeping on his face as he looked her in the eye. "Why would I drag down my own family?"

Irene said nothing for a long moment. Then she stepped aside, her expression very complicated.

Ronan continued toward his room as well.

Now the Ashbourne family is going to move as well. Finally, we are getting somewhere.

—

He reached his room, changed into darker, less recognizable clothing, and checked the time. Late enough that most students had already settled in. Early enough that the halls remained busy enough to provide cover.

Ronan slipped out before anyone could find him.

The greenhouse storage path behind the botanical wing received little foot traffic at night, which made it the perfect place to meet up. Students rarely went there unless assigned maintenance work, and faculty patrols avoided the area because nothing valuable was kept inside. Even if students were found here, they were just found having sex, so people would leave them alone.

Ronan arrived first, studied the layout, confirmed two exit routes, and leaned against the stone wall to wait.

Freya appeared three minutes later. She wore a simple cloak, hood drawn. She scanned the area once before approaching.

"You got everything?" Ronan asked.

Freya nodded and withdrew a small storage pouch from beneath her cloak. "It was annoying to gather, especially without leaving a clear purchase trail, but I managed."

She opened the pouch and began listing the contents as she handed them over.

"Five hundred grams of ashen mothscale dust. Three hundred milliliters of red myrrh extract. Four pounds of gravebell wildflower."

Ronan checked each item carefully. Not because he distrusted Freya completely, but because trusting people blindly was stupid. The mothscale dust felt fine and gray, the myrrh extract smelled faintly bitter, and the wildflower petals remained intact despite being sundried.

Freya watched him inspect the ingredients. "I still don’t understand why you want any of this. Ashen mothscale dust is used in preservation and ritual ink. Red myrrh extract is usually used in old medicinal mixtures or sealing preparations. Gravebell wildflower is mostly useless unless someone is making incense, corpse preservative, or some kind of strange blood-aligned reagent. The combination makes no sense to me."

Ronan did not explain.

Freya studied him for a moment, then sighed. "I did my part. Now I want what you promised. Information."

Ronan nodded. He withdrew a blank sheet of paper from his coat and began writing. He did not speak while he wrote. Freya watched the pen move, trying to read upside down, but Ronan angled the paper slightly so she could not see everything before he finished.

What he wrote was not all he knew about Iris Lockhart. Not even close. He only gave Freya around a quarter of what he knew from the novel, but he chose the parts that mattered.

He wrote about Iris’s insecurities. Her fear of being treated like a disposable noble daughter. Her tendency to overcorrect when someone questioned her composure. Her relationship with her family. The way she hated being pitied more than being insulted. The fact that she acted coldest when she felt cornered.

He wrote about her combat habits too. How she favored clean openings, how she disliked messy exchanges, how she could be forced into impatience if someone made her feel underestimated.

Ronan also wrote a few connections Freya did not know. Small things. People Iris respected. People she avoided. Which professors she listened to. Which noble families had been circling Lockhart lately.

Nothing too complete. There was a lot he didn’t tell her. Just enough to make Freya happy for now.

When he finished, Ronan slid the paper across.

Freya did not pick it up immediately. She waited for the mana contract to say he was scamming her.

The contract did not react.

Ronan had not given her false information.

Freya let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Then she started reading.

She tried to keep her expression neutral, but Ronan caught the small reactions anyway. Her eyes widened once. Then again. She read slower near the middle, then went back to reread one paragraph twice.

Finally, Freya smiled.

"You’re rather cruel, aren’t you?" she said. "Doing this to your fiancé."

She said it lightly, but she was clearly pleased with the trade. This was more than she expected.

Ronan looked at her. "You know of that?"

Freya’s smile widened slightly without looking away from the paper. "Iris confided in me. Not everything, but I know it’s back up."

Ronan filed that away. Iris telling Freya about the engagement meant their relationship was closer than he assumed. Was that progress made on Freya’s end? That made her more useful, but also more dangerous in many ways.

"I know more," Ronan said. "Things you would definitely like to hear."

Freya paused. For a second, interest flashed across her face. Then she folded the paper carefully and said, "No, this is plenty for now. I don’t what sick things you’ll ask of me in return."

She was clearly in a good mood if she was willing to make jokes like that.

A moment later, the paper burned. Freya watched until nothing remained but ash.

"I’d ask how you know so much about Iris, but I’ve given up trying to understand what you’re thinking," Freya said. "This was a good trade."

"That depends on whether the ingredients are real."

"They are," Freya replied, not at all bothered by the accusation.

The contract still did not react, so Ronan accepted it.

The meeting ended there. No farewell beyond Freya saying she would contact him again if she needed more. Ronan left with the storage pouch hidden beneath his coat.

As he walked back, his thoughts shifted away from Irene, Brutas, and even Freya.

Ashen mothscale dust. Red myrrh extract. Gravebell wildflower.

This should be enough to finally set him on his desired path.

The soul path.