Two days later.
Hermes Archnemesis, the villain of the story, was currently relaxing his body and mind alone in the garden of the Archnemesis mansion, a glass of chilled grape juice in his hand. His appearance was normal—at least by the standards of the current era—but with his vast wealth and the Archnemesis name, he could easily attract a few gold diggers if he wanted to.
Amidst the chaos and crises he had partaken in, he had decided to take a day off. To refresh his mind from the total stress and depression; he had to do it for his health. On his right side, his submachine gun leaned against his chair. For his safety, his weapon was ready for action if a sudden assault occurred. His charismatic and dominant aura looked particularly sharp, thanks to a perfectly tailored suit.
The only reason he was wearing it was that Justin had forcibly suggested it. Hermes had originally wanted to wear a 1930s-era American Don's suit, but his fashion sense had been labeled as having "commoner ideals" by his fastidious butler.
These past few days of self-imposed isolation made his life feel incredibly relaxed. He had spent the time checking on the individuals involved in the recent incidents. Right now, he was patiently waiting for his servant, Justin, to arrive at the right moment.
And there he was. The man wore his signature butler suit, and his black hair looked fancy as he approached his master. In his hands, he carried two sealed documents. He handed them both to his master at once when he got close.
"This is all the information about the incidents two days ago, right?" Hermes asked. He tilted his head, resting his cheek on his left arm as it sat on the table.
His servant nodded and answered with impeccable manners, "My Don, you are right. The first one contains what happened to the Priestess, the villagers, and the madman, Chief Zamor. The next document involves the bandit's lair, its territories, and the Visigoth Cult that was hiding in the shadows to control the underground world. I also gathered enough information about their connections yesterday, which is why it took me some time to show this to you personally."
"Visigoth Cult, huh." Hermes leaned his cheek on his closed hand while his eyes locked onto the papers. "This is a malicious organization residing here. We don't have a clear idea of who they all are yet. But I read here that you know this person named Seraph. Is this true?"
Justin hung his head and nodded. "Yes, master. That information expresses the truth about my past connection to that evil organization. But I can guarantee that they won't lay a single hand on you. Since you have me." He raised his head with a confident face.
Hermes squinted at the paper, then back at Justin. "So you and that Seraph guy were friends for, what, five or six years? I assume you met him during your travels before you joined my household?"
Justin paused, his expression flicking with a momentary, unreadable shadow. He realized Hermes assumed they were both mere humans—members of the race that currently dominated the world. Hermes had no idea that the "human race" wasn't the only one out there, nor did he realize his butler had been alive for a millennium. To Hermes, a "long time" meant a decade, not an era.
"Something like that, my Don," Justin replied smoothly, choosing not to correct the massive misunderstanding.
"I see. It's a shame your old friend turned out to be a cultist nutcase," Hermes sighed, flipping to the next page. "So, the organization's numbers are still unknown. The size of their force is unknown. The location of their secret hideout is unknown—with the exception that they might be hiding somewhere here on Scily Island. Only intel we have right now is this? How pathetic."
"Should I conduct a massive search around our territory? I can use my clairvoyance skill to check for them, however, it is limited to approximately a two-kilometer radius. Forgive me, that is all I can suggest for now," Justin said, his expression glooming.
Hermes waved his hand with an annoying tone. "Naah, forget about them. Oh, by the way, what happened to that person you fought two days ago? That Seraph person, I mean."
At the question, Justin heaved a sigh. "He escaped. After our last clash, he ran away. No need to worry, however, as I made sure to break several of his limbs before he could do so."
Hermes gulped upon hearing that. He muttered to himself that this butler was indeed a monster.
"Aah, yeah. I got it. Next report." He put the paper back into its envelope and picked up the next one. "So, with the death of those bastards, we gained the right to become the new owner of their headquarters. Not only that, but we also made a good investment for our cause with that man—Chief Zamor. Well, reading this document, I'm glad that the priestess and Mambo are back at the church. However, I don't quite understand her. Why does that girl want to stay after that incident?"
"Sir, remember that time she embraced you? Perhaps she stays here just for you," Justin answered, smiling.
"What? Are you her supporter now? Hey, moron. Don't you know that she embraced me and almost stuck her lips to my mouth?" Hermes abruptly complained.
His servant leaned back and tilted his head. "Eh? That's normal, I think. At least she has good sight in choosing you to become her lover."
Hermes slammed his armrest. "Oi, how dare you say that? I don't know why she became like that, but is that a normal way to appreciate your savior? Even if I saved her, I don't intend to have a relationship like that." He leaned back and covered his face with his hand. "Man, I'm tired of dealing with women."
"But, sir. You are the heir of this organization. The sole leader of the Archnemesis Household. To be honest, the Priestess might even pass the requirements to become your wife—or a mistress, if you have someone else in mind. Since you are only fifteen years of age, we might need to find suitable candidates to betroth to you. We could find powerful families who have the same merits as your mother, my Don."
"Rejected!"
"Eeeh!?" Justin's eyes widened, his usual professional composure momentarily shattered by his master's bluntness.
"Stop that nonsense already," Hermes groaned, rubbing his temples to soothe the burgeoning migraine. "All of the women in this world are scary and significantly stronger than me. So, just drop it."
"Eeh... but I want to cuddle and see the growth of your children, my Don," Justin insisted, his eyes gleaming with an annoying level of sincerity. "We need an heir to carry on the Archnemesis legacy!"
"Stop! I told you to stop giving me a headache. Change the topic!" Hermes slammed his armrest again.
Justin coughed into his hand, regaining his professional mask with practiced ease. "Forgive me. Alright, let us set aside the potential wife candidates for now." He heaved a dramatic, disappointed sigh.
Hermes narrowed his eyebrows, keeping one eye closed as he tried to ignore the lingering stress. "Good. Now, prepare me some of these," he said, pointing to the plate of cookies on the table. He had assumed his butler had baked them as usual.
"My Don," Justin paused, a small giggle escaping his lips. "Oh, so that's how it is."
"'Oh, so that's how it is'? What's that supposed to mean?" Hermes caught the intriguing mutter and demanded an explanation.
"Forgive me, master. The thing is... those cookies were made by the Priestess."
"Ooh, that's really interesting. Wait—what!?" Hermes's face turned from curiosity to sudden, defensive rage. "Why did you even bring this stuff to me?"
The young Don's expression became so fierce that Justin instinctively dropped to one knee, bowing his head. The butler had genuinely thought his master would be delighted that a girl had personally requested his assistance to deliver a gift.
"Never mind. Forget about it. I'll eat them all anyway," Hermes grumbled, grabbing a cookie with a look of suspicion. "Didn't I warn you not to take anything from that woman? After all, she is a frightening existence."
Justin tilted his head curiously. "But she is such a good candidate for you, my Don. She's clumsy, delighted, and naive, yet she possesses a certain cunning. Your mother was a very cunning woman as well."
"What the fuck are you saying? She's an abnormal existence! Don't you remember what she did to me?" Hermes argued reluctantly, the memory of her intense embrace still fresh.
Justin's face turned weary as he looked at his master. "But that is a normal thing for a woman of such good taste to do."
Hermes facepalmed, reaching the limit of his patience. He stood up abruptly, grabbing his submachine gun. "For fuck's sake, I've lost my appetite. We're returning to the same damn topic. Throw those cookies out of my sight! I'm going to the training ground. I need to practice my accuracy."
"Yes, master." Justin bowed his head and quickly began to clear the table.
…..
As Hermes walked toward the training field, the scenery suddenly warped. He was sure he had been heading straight for the shooting range, but the garden and the mansion vanished, replaced by a vast, shimmering empty space. He didn't feel scared; he had already grasped that this was the work of a familiar being he didn't want to meet.
Before he could take another step, a pair of soft hands covered his eyes. His body stiffened as his back touched something soft and warm.
"Guess who this is?~" a feminine voice teased, melodic and ethereal.
Hermes sighed, his shoulders relaxing despite himself. "The white lady."
"How rude! Guess again, Mister~"
Hermes raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I give up. Hey, can you please remove your soft hands from my eyes?"
"Okay~"
The hands retreated. Hermes turned around to face the young lady draped in her flowing, seductive Greek-style dress.
"Like usual... the beautiful lady in her distracting dress," he muttered, narrowing his eyes.
"Oh, fu, fu~" she tilted her head, her gaze concentrated on his face. "What's this? Are you blushing because of my appearance? Oh, my. Are you falling in love with me now?"
Hermes took a deep breath, his expression turning grave. "Nope, it's not like that. I hate to admit it, but you are beautiful and cute. However, even if you try your best to tease me, there's no love entering my heart. In short, I don't have feelings for you. So, back off." He gave her a slight, firm push on the shoulders.
The lady puffed her cheeks in a pout, crossing her arms over her chest. "Hmph! No matter what I do, you're always like that."
"Seriously... have we met before?" he asked, his voice dropping to a serious tone.
She quickly waved her hands in denial. "Nope! We haven't met before."
Hermes remained suspicious, but he knew it was pointless to grill her. "Alright, then what's the purpose of this sudden summons? Why bring me to this dimension?"
She leaned back, looking genuinely confused. "I just wanted to see you. That's all."
"That's all?"
"Yep! That's all."
Hermes covered his face with his palm. "Alright, then. Thanks for your time. I've got to go."
She reached out, grabbing his sleeve. "Wait, don't go! Even if you try to escape, you can't—I'm the owner of this place."
"Seriously, let me go back to my world," Hermes sighed. "I don't have time for chitchat about love. Sorry, lady, but I'm rejecting your love."
"Nope. You will love me."
"What?"
"You'll love me even if you hate it."
"What are you talking about?" he asked, glaring at her.
"Anyway, as I promised, I will introduce myself. But we don't have much time left. So, for now, let's leave it aside."
"What? Aah, shit. I finally remember," Hermes snapped, pointing a finger at her. "Your promise! You promised you'd tell me your name after I accomplished that mission. So, spill it."
The lady smiled, her image beginning to flicker and fade. "My name is—"
…..
Hermes snapped his eyes open. He was standing in the center of the training field, his gun still in his hand.
Was it a dream? He stood still, but the sensation of her touch and the warmth in his heart lingered. For some reason, he didn't feel angry. He actually felt... happy.
"This world is really getting on my nerves," he muttered, looking up at the sky. "I guess it's about time to gather more information and trace the history behind the secrets of this universe I've been transmigrated into by that jerk, Stump G."
He gripped his weapon tighter, his gaze hardening.
"If my destiny is to die at the hands of those female protagonists, I'll just have to commit enough peculiar events to break the flow of the story. Just like what I did in the village... I will succeed no matter what. My time has come to fulfill it."
He looked toward the horizon, the weight of the Archnemesis name settling on his shoulders.
"Since I [Wake as a Mafia Boss].