The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Sharon opened her eyes to the soft light of dawn, slipping into her modest yet comfortable room. The ceiling above her held the soft carvings of old vines and leaves, an intricate design passed down by the Blackthorn family. She blinked away the remnants of sleep, her gaze moving to the rest of her room. The space was a blend of her military discipline and her noble heritage: a suit of armor displayed in the corner, ready to be worn; shelves neatly lined with books on history and strategy, as well as a few romantic tales she had a soft spot for but kept hidden behind the others. A longsword hung proudly on the wall, its handle glinting in the morning light. Everything was in its place—organized, purposeful, the way she liked it.

With a stretch, Sharon moved to the window, pulling back the heavy drapes to let in the fresh air of the early morning. The sky was painted with streaks of pink and orange, the first hints of sunlight just beginning to peek over the horizon. She leaned against the window frame, her thoughts drifting as they often did in the mornings—to Lady Sophie von Icevern.

Sophie. Her Lady. The once-shining scion of the Icevern family. The image of Sophie, standing tall in her pristine armor, her silver hair gleaming in the sunlight as she spoke with the kind of determination and kindness that inspired everyone around her, filled Sharon's mind. Lady Sophie was everything that Sharon admired: brave, honorable, compassionate. She had always believed that Sophie was destined for greatness, that her unwavering sense of justice would see her rise above the petty politics of the nobility. But that dream had begun to crumble the moment she broke off her engagement with Draven.

Sharon's brows furrowed, her teeth clenching slightly at the thought. Draven. The vile, manipulative head of the Drakhan family. Even now, just thinking of his name brought a bitter taste to her mouth. She knew—everyone knew—how ruthless he was. Cold, calculating, a man who seemed to move people around like pieces on a chessboard. He had never shown even a shred of humanity, never offered a single act of kindness without strings attached. To think that someone like him had been betrothed to her Lady… it made Sharon's blood boil.

Ever since Draven had broken off the engagement, things had only gone downhill. Her reputation had suffered. She had been ostracized, ridiculed, even within the Royal Knights of Regaria. Sharon had seen it firsthand—the whispers behind Sophie's back, the way even her fellow knights looked at her as if she were no longer worthy of her title. They saw the broken engagement as a sign of weakness, as if Sophie's value had been tied to her connection with Draven. But Lady Sophie had stayed strong. She had held her head high, continued to serve the kingdom with all her heart. Sharon admired her resilience, but she could see the toll it was taking. She could see the pain in Sophie's eyes, the way her smile never quite reached her eyes anymore.

Sharon's hands tightened on the window frame, her heart aching for her Lady. She wanted nothing more than to protect her, to shield her from all the pain and injustice. Lady Sophie deserved so much more. She deserved to be celebrated, not shunned. She deserved loyalty, respect—everything that vile Draven had taken from her.

A sharp knock on the door pulled Sharon from her thoughts. She turned, taking a moment to push aside her anger before calling out. "Come in."

A maid entered, bowing slightly before speaking. "Good morning, Miss Sharon. Your breakfast is ready in the dining room."

Sharon gave a nod of acknowledgment, her face softening as she smiled at the maid. "Thank you. I'll be down shortly."

The maid bowed again and left, closing the door quietly behind her. Sharon took a deep breath, letting her gaze linger on the sky outside for a moment longer before turning away. She couldn't let her emotions get the better of her, not today. She had duties to fulfill, responsibilities as both a knight and as an adjutant to Lady Sophie. With renewed determination, Sharon moved to her armor stand, carefully dressing in her uniform—the deep green of the Blackthorn family, accented with silver to signify her rank. Her movements were practiced, each piece of her uniform fitting perfectly into place. She paused for a moment, her fingers brushing over the emblem on her chest—the Blackthorn crest. It was a reminder of her duty, her loyalty. Not just to her family, but to Lady Sophie.

As she made her way to the dining room, Sharon's thoughts drifted back to the recent news she'd read in the magic newspaper. There had been articles—so many articles—about Draven. About his mentorship of Queen Aurelia, about his lectures at the Magic Tower, about how he was going to be one of the main speakers at the upcoming Continental Mage Symposium. It made her stomach turn. She could still remember the cold, ruthless man who had stood beside Lady Sophie, the way he had looked at people as if they were beneath him. And now he was being celebrated? It was infuriating. How could people not see through him? How could they be so blind to the truth?

Sharon clenched her teeth, her hands forming fists at her sides as she walked. Draven had always been manipulative, always finding ways to get what he wanted. He had never cared about anyone but himself. And yet, here he was, being praised as if he were some kind of hero. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. Lady Sophie had sacrificed so much, had given everything for the kingdom, and yet she was the one suffering, while Draven basked in glory.

Sharon's footsteps echoed through the hallway as she approached the dining room, her mind still occupied by her frustration. She couldn't understand how someone like Draven could be given such recognition, how he could be seen as anything other than the cold, scheming man he truly was. She remembered the rumors, the whispers of how he had manipulated his way into power, how he had used people to achieve his goals. He was not a hero. He was a villain, and she would never forgive him for what he had done to Lady Sophie.

Pushing open the door to the dining room, Sharon took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. She couldn't let her anger consume her. She had to stay focused, for Lady Sophie's sake. The dining room was quiet, the table set neatly with a simple breakfast—bread, cheese, and a small pot of tea. Sharon sat down, nodding to the maid who stood by the door. She picked up a piece of bread, her thoughts still swirling as she took a bite.

Halfway through her meal, a servant entered, bowing respectfully before approaching her. "Miss Sharon, a letter has arrived for you. It bears the seal of the main Blackthorn household."

Sharon's eyes widened slightly, her heart skipping a beat. The main household? Letters from them were rare, and they were never sent without reason. She took the letter from the servant, her fingers brushing over the wax seal—the Blackthorn emblem, pressed into deep green wax. She immediately knew this was important. Sharon nodded to the servant, her voice steady despite the anticipation she felt. "Thank you. That will be all."

The servant bowed and left, leaving Sharon alone with the letter. She set down her fork, her breakfast forgotten as she rose from her seat. This was not something to be read in public. She needed privacy. With purposeful steps, she made her way back to her room, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't help but wonder what this was about—what could be so urgent that the main household would send a letter directly to her?

Once inside her room, Sharon closed the door behind her, her eyes focused on the letter in her hands. She moved to her desk, sitting down and carefully breaking the wax seal. The parchment was thick, the ink dark and bold against the cream-colored paper. She took a deep breath before unfolding it, her eyes scanning the elegant script.

[

To Sharon of the Blackthorn Branch,

We trust that this letter finds you well. The Blackthorn family has always prided itself on its loyalty and its commitment to safeguarding the interests of the kingdom. It is in this spirit that we write to you today, with a matter of utmost importance.

Recent developments within the Continental Mage Council have raised concerns. There is intelligence suggesting that Draven of the Drakhan family may be planning to allow a dangerous organization—the Devil Coffin—to infiltrate Aetherion, the underwater fortress. The Devil Coffin, as you are undoubtedly aware, is a group feared for its use of dark magic and its history of political subterfuge. Their presence at Aetherion would pose an unimaginable threat to the security of the arcane arts and the stability of our realm.

The Mage Council has called for a gathering at Aetherion, and Draven will be in attendance. Your mission, Sharon, is to ensure that he does not succeed in whatever he plans. If it becomes apparent that he is a direct threat, you are authorized to take whatever actions are necessary—including his assassination. This is not a command we give lightly, but the safety of the kingdom and the balance of power must be preserved.

You will not be alone in this endeavor. There are others who share our concerns, and they will be positioned to assist you when the time comes. Trust in your training, in your loyalty to the Blackthorn family, and in your duty to the kingdom.

May the shadows guide you,

The Deputy Leader of the Blackthorn Family

]

Sharon's eyes narrowed as she read the letter, her grip tightening on the parchment. The Devil Coffin—just the name was enough to send a chill down her spine. They were dangerous, ruthless, and if Draven was truly planning to let them into Aetherion, then he was even more of a threat than she had thought. The weight of the command settled heavily in her chest—an assassination mission, sanctioned by her family. The idea of taking a life, even Draven's, was not something she took lightly. But if he was a threat to Lady Sophie, to the kingdom… then she would do what needed to be done.

She folded the letter carefully, placing it inside her tunic. Her mind was racing, her emotions a mix of anger, determination, and a hint of fear. Draven was dangerous, that much she knew. He was intelligent, always a step ahead, and if she was to succeed, she would need to be cautious. But her loyalty to Lady Sophie ran deeper than her fear. If Draven was a threat, she would eliminate him. For Sophie, for the kingdom, for everything she believed in.

Sharon rose from her desk, her gaze moving to the armor stand in the corner of her room. Her fingers brushed against the cold metal of her pauldrons, her heart pounding as she prepared herself for what was to come. Each piece of armor was donned with care, her movements precise, her resolve hardening with every buckle and clasp. The chest plate, the gauntlets, the greaves—each piece felt heavier than usual, the weight of her mission settling onto her shoulders. She picked up her longsword, testing its weight in her hand before sliding it into its scabbard. The familiar weight was comforting, a reminder of her training, her purpose.

She moved to the mirror, her reflection staring back at her. Her expression was one of steely determination, her eyes sharp, her jaw set. This was her duty. This was her chance to prove herself—to prove her loyalty to Lady Sophie, to the Blackthorn family, to the kingdom. She took a deep breath, her fingers brushing against the Blackthorn emblem on her chest. "For Lady Sophie," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "For the kingdom."

With one last glance at her reflection, Sharon turned and left her room, her steps echoing through the quiet corridor. She made her way to the stables, her heart pounding in her chest, her mind focused on the task ahead. The sky was still dark, the stars glimmering faintly above, the chill of the early morning air biting at her skin. Her horse, a sturdy chestnut mare, stood ready, her ears flicking forward as Sharon approached.

Sharon mounted her horse, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Aetherion awaited her. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with danger.

But she will definitely unfold the truth.

"I will prove myself useful to you, My Lady,"