The Villain Professor's Second Chance

One quill meticulously detailed his research into the harmony between chaos and necromancy—a controversial topic that had already led him to breakthroughs others wouldn't even dream of. Another quill scribbled notes on the nature of origin attributes, tracing familial ideologies through the magic that each bloodline bore.

A third worked tirelessly to explore the dungeon core phenomenon, investigating the mechanisms behind the mysterious emergence of dungeons across the lands. And the final quill moved with fluid grace, sketching diagrams about mana flow disruption and stabilization, trying to identify ways to mend imbalances in magical systems.

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The room moved like a perfect clockwork mechanism, each pen, each paper, each movement choreographed to serve a purpose, all under the gaze of Draven's sharp, cold eyes. He stood in the center, watching, absorbing the details, capturing every calculation and hypothesis. To mere mortals, this would have been overwhelming—a madness of scattered thoughts. To Draven, it was precision, control.

His mind worked on levels beyond comprehension, capable of managing four entirely different lines of research while also preparing his body to move, should the need arise.

Suddenly, a knock resounded through the lab. It was soft but persistent, echoing in the otherwise silent room. Draven stopped, narrowing his eyes slightly at the unexpected interruption. Without uttering a word, he signaled to the pens to halt, each quill obediently freezing in place, still hovering mid-air.

With a flick of his wrist, he sent the papers into standby mode, the research stopping momentarily. He turned and moved towards his adjoining office. He listened for a moment before recognizing the voice on the other side of the door.

"Professor, it's Yuli... I, um, forgot something," came the muffled voice.

Draven paused briefly before finally opening the door. He moved back to his desk, seating himself gracefully and glancing at the door as it opened. He found "Yuli" standing there—her expression unassuming, her eyes downcast in what was meant to be nervousness. It might have worked on anyone else.

"Enter," Draven said in his usual cold tone, his hand reaching for a book that floated towards him with a simple thought.

As she stepped in, Draven's voice cut through the silence. "What report do you have for me, Liora?"

The woman halted, and a smile slowly crept across her lips. "As expected, it's hard to fool you, isn't it?" she said, the softness in her demeanor vanishing, replaced by a sly grin. Her form seemed to shimmer slightly, and the next moment, the disguise fell away. Her height adjusted, her posture shifting from the meek stance of Yuli to something more confident, more... dangerous.

She stood shorter now, but her presence felt a lot larger. The woman before him was not the shy university assistant but Liora—the Silent Merchant, a well-known figure in the underworld. She was both a master merchant and an assassin, her dual roles creating a mix of personalities that fascinated and infuriated those who tried to understand her.

Draven's gaze remained impassive. He had already dismantled her little trick the moment she had walked in. He gestured for her to speak, his cold eyes meeting hers with a hint of expectancy.

"What does the Silent Merchant have to report to me? How is business going?" he asked, his tone indicating he had little patience for unnecessary chatter.

Liora smirked, one hand resting casually on her hip. "Oh, it's been going great. Too smooth, actually," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "But, you really are here, aren't you?" Her tone shifted, her smirk widening playfully. She took a step closer, her gaze assessing him. "You're everywhere—the Earldom, the university, tutoring the queen.

Seems like you're everyone at once, master~"

The teasing edge in her voice as she called him "master" wasn't lost on Draven. She worked for him, yes, but loyalty was hardly something that could be expected from the Silent Merchant. Faithfulness was not in her nature, and Draven knew that better than anyone.

He did not respond to her playful words. His eyes flicked back to the book that hovered before him, a signal that the conversation should proceed without unnecessary games.

Liora sighed theatrically, moving further into the room, her footsteps making no sound against the polished floor. "Fine, fine, I'll get to the point," she said, leaning against the edge of his desk. "The auction will officially start in a week. We've already got people stationed to protect the artifacts, and I've got to say, Draven..." She paused, her eyes widening in mock amazement. "Wow."

He didn't look up. She continued.

"Those artifacts are high level—every single one of them. Honestly, I'm not sure how you managed to pull it off. Usually, auctions like this have some flops, but this time... Everything's just perfect! It's going to be one of the greatest auctions with the highest revenue we've ever seen." She tapped a finger to her lips, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

"And my siblings," she went on, her voice softening slightly as she mentioned her family—the orphans she had taken under her wing, her real family, in many ways. "With the success we've had, we managed to buy the large house next to our merchant firm, in cash. The place is huge, big enough for all my little sisters and brothers.

We're officially a proper merchant family now," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips, though her gaze was still sharp.

"There are mercenaries too," she added. "They're with us permanently—real guards, loyal enough since we pay them well. Our information network has spread across multiple cities. This... this is the first time I actually feel like a real merchant. Maybe I won't even have to do the shady stuff anymore," she finished, her voice drifting into something contemplative.

Draven's eyes flicked up from his book, pinning her with a cold, assessing stare. "Then why not stop?" he asked, his voice even, devoid of emotion.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Liora blinked, her surprise evident for the first time in the conversation. She opened her mouth but seemed to falter, genuinely taken aback.

"If you want to stop your work as the Silent Merchant, it's fine," Draven continued, his gaze steady on hers. "Working alongside the great merchant Liora would suffice."

For the first time, Liora seemed to lose her playful facade entirely. Her eyes widened slightly, her mouth falling open in shock. She stared at him, trying to gauge if he was being serious. It was so unlike Draven to show even a hint of consideration, let alone something like this.

Slowly, her expression softened, her gaze dropping. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, a spark of determination lighting her eyes. "No," she said, her voice firmer now. "You've given me much—more than anyone ever has. And I have my pride." She took a breath, her gaze meeting his, steady and resolute.

"I will take on whatever orders you have, whether for Liora the merchant or Liora the Silent Merchant."

She didn't expect the reaction she got. Draven closed the book, setting it aside, and his cold eyes bore into hers with an intensity that made her take a step back. "I don't care much for the Silent Merchant," he said, his voice low. "Useful, yes. But what I need is Liora the merchant—alive, thriving, her business flourishing. You are a crucial asset.

The assets of Drakhan."

She felt her face grow warm at his words, the intensity of his gaze striking her unexpectedly. She blinked, the color rising to her cheeks against her will. "W-what? Why are you saying it like that?" she stammered, caught off guard by the rare glimpse of... almost concern in his tone.

Draven frowned, his gaze sharpening. "Why are you blushing?" he asked, his voice cutting.

Liora's eyes widened, and she let out a flustered laugh. "Eh? Huh? I'm not blushing!" she protested, her voice rising in pitch. She shook her head, clearly rattled by his direct question. "E-ehh..."

She quickly cleared her throat, forcing herself to regain her composure. "Anyway," she said, her voice steadier, though there was still a hint of embarrassment lingering in her expression, "I don't know what kind of magic you're using to be everywhere at once, but make sure you take care of yourself too, boss."

Her words hung in the air, and there was something almost genuine in her tone—something that Draven caught, but didn't comment on. Instead, he inclined his head slightly, acknowledging her concern without addressing it directly.

"One other thing," Liora added, her tone growing serious once more. "There will be people aiming for us during the auction. We've fortified the base of our operations and added plenty of defenses, but I wanted you to be aware. Just in case."

Draven nodded, his gaze unfaltering. "Noted," he said, his voice cold and calm. "Let them come. We'll take from them as well."

A grin spread across Liora's face, her eyes glinting with excitement at his words. "Yeah, you're right," she said, her voice filled with a thrill that matched her expression. "Let's see them try."

The conversation seemed to settle into silence then, and Liora let out a slow breath, her posture relaxing. For a moment, she looked at Draven, her gaze lingering, as if she were trying to figure him out, to understand what drove him.

"Anything else?" Draven finally asked, his tone making it clear he was ready to end the discussion and return to his work.

Liora shook her head, pushing herself away from his desk. "No, that's all for now," she said, her playful smirk returning. "Take care, boss."

She turned, heading for the door, her movements swift and silent. Just as she reached the door, she paused, glancing back at him.

"Draven," she said, her voice softer, almost contemplative. "You're a strange one, you know that?"

He looked up, his cold eyes meeting hers. He didn't respond, and she simply chuckled, shaking her head before slipping out of the room, the door closing softly behind her.

Draven watched the door for a moment longer before turning back to his work. He took a deep breath, letting his mind refocus, the papers and pens around him resuming their movements, the quiet hum of activity filling the room once more.

There was always more to do—more to research, more to understand. And Draven would continue, pushing forward, no matter who stood beside him or who opposed him. This was his path, and he would walk it, alone if necessary.