Reincarnated As A First Rate Villain: I Don't Know How To Play My Role-Chapter 31

Lucien stood still for a moment, absorbing the strangeness of it all.

The forest stretched endlessly around him, quiet yet... alive.

Leaves fell from high above, gliding through shafts of warm golden light. As they drifted to the ground, they whispered sharply through the breeze, as though each one carried a secret meant for the earth.

He narrowed his eyes. The trees swayed gently—but not with the wind. There was something in the rhythm. Something deliberate.

Their trunks expanded and contracted subtly.

They were breathing.

Lucien's eyes widened slightly. "This place... where am I?"

Just moments ago, he had been in the awakening chamber with Aurorwen. He'd touched the Root of the World—and now he was in this serene, dreamlike forest that looked like something from a divine painting.

He looked down at his hands, half-expecting them to glow or burn or be marked in some mystical way—but they were normal. Flesh and blood.

"Aurorwen...?" he called out, glancing behind him.

No answer.

He turned slowly in place, trying to find any clue. "What just happened...? Where is—?"

His thoughts cut off.

A small hand slipped into his.

Lucien flinched, instinctively pulling slightly—only to stop when he looked down.

It was a young girl—no more than seven or eight—staring up at him with wide, unblinking green eyes.

She was barefoot. Her body was clothed not in fabric, but in soft leaves that clung gently to her form, like nature had woven a dress just for her. Vines curled loosely around her limbs like decorative ribbons.

Her long, tangled hair was dark mossy green, and her skin had a faint shimmer to it—like sunlight filtering through dew.

"Wh... who are you?" Lucien asked, his voice uncertain, almost whispering. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

The girl said nothing.

Instead, she turned, keeping hold of his hand, and pointed deeper into the forest.

Then, without a word, she began to gently pull him.

"H-Hey, wait... Hold on—where are we going? Who are you?"

Still, no answer. Her grip was small but surprisingly firm, and her steps were light but urgent.

Lucien hesitated.

Every reasonable part of him wanted to resist. This was bizarre. Impossible. And yet—

He glanced down at the girl's back.

She wasn't dragging him with malice or trickery. She seemed determined. Trusting.

He sighed, his brow furrowed. "...Tch. Alright, fine. Just—don't let go, okay?"

She didn't look back, but her small fingers tightened around his.

They journeyed deeper into the forest that breathed.

And it only grew stranger.

But not in a terrifying way.

Rather, it was... serene. Like stepping into a forgotten dream carved out of the world's first memory.

The trees were impossibly tall, their trunks marked with glowing runes that shifted slowly like lazy fireflies. The canopy overhead filtered sunlight into soft beams, and each one shimmered in a slightly different hue—some gold, some blue, others green like emerald waters.

The air was thick with the scent of wild herbs and earth. The moss beneath Lucien's feet was as soft as silk, and every now and then, glowing insects flitted past, giggling faintly—yes, giggling, like childlike spirits.

A rabbit-like creature hopped across their path, its fur made of moss and mushrooms.

Lucien's lips parted. "...What... is this place?"

But the girl kept pulling, silent as ever.

Eventually, a thin fog began to roll in.

It crept along the forest floor, winding between the trees and coiling gently around Lucien's legs. It wasn't cold or choking—it was like walking through mist woven from breath and memory.

Lucien's pace slowed slightly.

"This doesn't feel right," he muttered. "It's too quiet now."

The fog thickened.

Lucien couldn't even see the girl's body anymore—only her hand, still clinging to his.

"...Hey. I can't see anything now. Are we... still going the right way?"

No reply.

The silence was eerie now. Not hostile—but unfamiliar.

Lucien felt a faint panic settle in his chest. "Where are you taking me...? I swear if this is some sort of—"

And then—

YANK.

The little girl pulled him hard.

"W-Whoa—hey! What's the deal!?"

Lucien stumbled forward, out of the fog—his foot catching on something soft. He tumbled onto a bed of grass, grunting as he hit the ground.

And just like that—

The fog was gone.

As if it had never existed.

Lucien blinked, sitting up.

Before him was a vast grassy plain, bright and gently kissed by sun. Wildflowers swayed under a warm breeze. Bees buzzed lazily. The air here was clean, like the sky had just finished raining hope.

And in the middle of this beautiful, forgotten field stood a gazebo.

Wrought from twisted ivory-white wood and overgrown with flowering vines of every color, it looked like a throne for forest royalty. Blossoms curled along its arches. Wind chimes made of hollowed crystal flowers hummed softly.

And then—

He saw her.

Seated gracefully within the gazebo was a woman.

Her features bore an uncanny resemblance to the little girl—yet she was fully grown, mature, radiant, and... overwhelming.

Long, flowing hair like dark green velvet spilled over her shoulders, partly braided with living vines. Her skin gleamed with the same shimmer as the girl's, and her dress—if it could be called that—was made of leaves, silk, and blooming flowers.

Her body was breathtaking—soft curves wrapped in nature's finest, full and divine. Her assets alone made Lucien's throat clench, and he instinctively swallowed.

Hard.

Like trying to gulp down a stone.

His heart was racing.

He didn't understand why. The woman hadn't even looked at him yet.

But everything about her—her presence, her silence, her beauty—felt otherworldly. Divine, almost.

Lucien looked to the side, breathless, trying to calm himself.

Then he realized—he was still holding the little girl's hand.

He looked down at her, heart still pounding. "Wh... Who are you really?"

The little girl just stared at him with the same unreadable expression.

He tried again, voice softer. "What... are you?"

She offered no answer.

Instead, she let go of his hand at last... and simply walked toward the gazebo.

The little girl quietly skipped toward the overgrown gazebo, flowers and leaves rustling at her ankles as she climbed the moss-lined steps. Without hesitation, she settled beside the divine-looking woman who sat at the center, veiled in vines and draped in elegance as natural as breath.

Lucien remained frozen.

His feet were rooted to the soft, dew-slicked grass. His heart drummed a wild rhythm in his chest. The moment felt thick—unreal. Surreal. Yet not terrifying. Just... heavy, as though the wind itself held its breath.

He blinked once.

What in the world did I get myself into...?

He looked at the gazebo, then at the woman—the woman who looked too perfect, too composed, too present to be real. Her beauty felt primordial, like something born from the first dawn. Her mere stillness commanded reverence.

Lucien swallowed hard.

Is this still part of the awakening...? Am I even still... alive?

Then she moved.

A gentle turn of her head—like a tree swaying with the wind—and her gaze, golden and shimmering with ancient light, fell upon him.

She raised one hand and curled her fingers delicately.

A beckoning motion.

And yet Lucien's spine straightened like he'd been given an order. His chest tightened. He didn't even try to fight it. He walked forward, slowly, reverently—like a pilgrim approaching a holy shrine.

Each step was silent.

The air around the gazebo was warmer, humming, as if the earth beneath his feet recognized the presence of something divine.

He reached them.

The little girl continued nibbling on a snack, kicking her feet lightly in the air. The woman simply looked at him, eyes aglow beneath the flowering arch above her.

Then she spoke.

"Sit."

The word was barely a breath—but it echoed in his bones. Her voice was melodic, soft, but vast—as though nature itself had learned to speak.

Lucien obeyed immediately.

He sat down beside them, posture straight, knees tense. He didn't know what else to do.

The woman lifted her hand again, and from the empty air, a tea set formed—carved from vine-like porcelain, steaming gently with a scent like rain and sun-soaked earth. The cups floated between them, filled with golden-hued tea that sparkled faintly.

Lucien stared at his cup, nervous.

The woman took hers calmly and sipped. The little girl munched another bite.

Then, the woman placed her cup down and spoke, her words wrapped in gentle grace.

"We've finally met... Outsider."

Lucien blinked, startled.

"...Outsider?" he echoed. "I... I'm sorry, but—what do you mean by that?"

She didn't answer.

Not with words.

Instead, she lifted a hand, and a mirror of woven silver and blooming branches appeared before him, drifting down like a leaf caught in wind.

Lucien looked into it—

And gasped.

The reflection staring back at him wasn't Lucien Caelum Velebrandt, the boy with silver hair and mismatched eyes.

It was... him.

Dark hair. Dark eyes. A slightly handsome but unmistakably ordinary face.

His past life.

His original self.

"...That's... that's me," he whispered.

The woman's smile deepened slightly. A calm, knowing smile.

"That is who you once were."

Lucien's voice trembled. "But I... I'm Lucien now. Right?"

"You are," she replied. "And you are not."

He clenched his fists.

"I don't understand..."

"You will."

The mirror dissolved like morning mist.

Lucien stared at her, stunned.

"...Who... who are you?" he asked finally, his voice softer than a whisper. "Why do you know this?"

The little girl offered him one of her snacks, smiling innocently. He barely noticed.

The woman met his gaze, and in that moment, her presence seemed to expand—not in size, but in weight, in light, in reverence.

The vines around the gazebo trembled.

The flowers slowly turned toward her.

Even the wind itself stilled.

Then she spoke, her voice radiant with calm power.

"I am she who breathes life into all things. The hand that steadies the wheel of rebirth. The bloom beneath the sunless soil."

Her golden eyes locked onto his.

"I am Elyssira, the One you call Goddess in this World."

Lucien's breath caught.

His body froze.

His mind blanked.

He was sitting—face to face—with the very goddess worshipped by empires, the divine being whose name was etched into temples, whose will shaped the world.

The Goddess of Light, Life, and Grace.

The divine force behind every Awakening.

And she was here. Now. Offering him tea.

"...W-why?" Lucien managed. "Why are you here?"

The Goddess Elyssira smiled—not with pride, but with a motherly patience, ancient and soft.

"Because your awakening... is unlike any that has come before it."

Lucien sat in stunned silence, tea untouched, heartbeat thundering, breath shallow.