Daily Life of a Transmigrating Villain

"Damn it," Edward muttered as he stepped out of the car he believed was provided by the head of the Crimwell family—at least, that was what he thought.

As he emerged, his gaze fell upon the nearby airport, knowing he needed to act quickly.

Given that police department was actively searching for him, it was highly probable they would issue a warrant for his arrest, potentially preventing him from leaving the city altogether.

Everything seemed much calmer last night, especially considering that most of the police had been focused on tracking down Damien the night before. But just this morning, while sitting in his car, he had heard on the radio that the Crimwell family was being accused of helping him escape from prison.

He was thankful for this and had definitely decided to return after dealing with things in the main city to repay this favor by marrying Amelia Crimwell.

Things had become even more problematic since he was charged with murder.

Accusations had come his way, pointing fingers at him as the one responsible for killing those reporters and police officers.

He had no idea who had actually committed the act, but one thing was clear: if he were caught now, he would face severe consequences for escaping from prison and even for killing people.

"Hello, where are my tickets?" he asked hastily as he adjusted his cap, which he had snatched from a nearby stall. Dialing a number, he inquired about his escape arrangements.

"It's the only favor I could do for you, given your master's help. Head to the main city; your ticket is in the third car in the fourth row," a deep voice responded from the other end of the line.

It was a man he recognized, someone connected to the main city who had been prompted to help him in thanks for his master's assistance.

Edward silently thanked his ally before quickening his pace, sprinting toward the fourth row of vehicles.

He found the designated car and opened it, retrieving the ticket stashed within.

"Abhishek, I will definitely return the favor," Edward replied, cutting off the call. He knew he owed this man—someone who had extended a hand in a time of desperation. The weight of the situation hung heavily on him, but he was determined to find a way out of this mess and reclaim his freedom. (Reference to Abhishek appears in Chapter 4.)

Checking the ticket, he moved towards the airport before arriving at the entrance as several individuals were following the pace while exiting and entering the airport as he arrived there.

Passing through the scanner, he felt a brief moment of relief when the metal detectors didn't go off.

He kept his cool, doing his best to blend in with the sea of travelers bustling through the airport.

Everything was going according to plan.

But just as he was about to step forward, a high-pitched voice pierced the air.

"Give me the watch! I can hear tic-tac sound from your pocket!" The shout came from a small child no older than five, tugging at his mother's hand and pointing directly at Edward.

A chill ran down Edward's spine. He instinctively glanced at his wrist, where he wasn't even wearing a watch, and then to his pocket.

But that didn't matter.

The security guards had already caught wind of the outburst.

The nearest officer shot him a suspicious look, signaling to his colleague.

Within moments, several security personnel were now watching Edward closely.

"Sir, we need you to step aside for a thorough check," one of the officers said, stepping forward. His voice was polite but firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

Edward felt a surge of panic rise in his chest. He couldn't afford this delay. Missing this flight meant losing his only chance to escape the city. The clock was ticking.

"I... I think there's a misunderstanding. I have a flight to catch. I'm going to miss it," Edward tried, forcing calmness into his voice that he didn't feel.

The officer didn't waver. "This won't take long. Please come with us."

Edward's heart sank as they led him away from the crowd. Every second that passed felt like another nail in the coffin.

Time was slipping away, and with it, his shot at freedom.

Edward's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to keep up with the unfolding situation.

"Sorry?" he mumbled, not quite sure how everything was spiraling so quickly out of control. He could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him, as every passing second brought him closer to the possibility of being arrested.

He had a sinking feeling that the police would block any chance of escape if this dragged on much longer. In a last-ditch effort, he looked at the security guard and asked, "Is there really no way I can make my flight? I swear, there's nothing on me."

The security guard's expression remained unchanged, his tone unyielding. "Sir, you need to follow us. No excuses will be entertained. This is for the safety of our passengers."

Edward's face twitched in frustration. He opened his mouth, about to protest again, when the same child interrupted, tugging on the sleeve of an officer and pointing at Edward with wide eyes.

"This uncle can't hear loud sounds! He is under the effect of some medicine!" the child exclaimed with a kind of innocent confidence only children could possess.

The security personnel exchanged glances and then turned back to Edward with an almost sympathetic look, which hid their suspicion of drugs on him, considering the crowd was gathering to watch this whole scene.

One of the guards moved closer, grabbing Edward's hand firmly but not aggressively, as if they were handling a man who might not fully understand what was happening. "We'll take you to a detention room. We'll bring someone who knows sign language to explain the situation."

Edward's eyes widened in disbelief, his panic reaching new heights. "What?! I can hear you! I'm telling you, I can hear everything just fine! That kid is lying! He's just accusing me for no reason!"

But no one listened.

The child's innocent proclamation seemed to carry more weight than Edward's desperate pleas.

'Fuck! I will kill you!' He glanced at the boy, who couldn't have been more than five or six, yet his words had turned the situation on its head.

The guards, trusting the child's observation without a second thought, tightened their hold and led Edward away.

Edward kept protesting, his voice echoing in the crowded terminal.

But all around him, people only watched as if it were just another minor disturbance at the airport.

To them, he was already guilty, his words falling on deaf ears as they dragged him toward an uncertain fate.

'Goodbye, idiot,' Damien stood as he saw his flight was about to arrive before making his way towards it while already making sure that Edward missed his flight.

Considering how soon the news would reach the airport security, Edward would be detained in Camphrian City for quite a while.

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"Mom, I could only find kitchen knives," Emilia said as she opened the car door. Placing a bundle of plastic knives on the dashboard, she climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door behind her. Dressed in her patient uniform, she glanced over at her mother, who was wearing a white shirt and a skirt, her fingers resting lightly on the steering wheel.

Emilia continued, "Do you want us to go home and grab the guns?"

She was referring to the firearms her mother had buried in the backyard, which Emilia had stumbled upon at the age of fourteen. At that time, her mother had shared stories of her days as a hunter, before settling down and starting a family.

"Come on, we're not going to kill anyone, Emilia," Visana replied, shifting the car into gear and accelerating onto the highway. She was already bracing herself for the inevitable confrontation that would arise from the board of directors aligned with Gabriel.

Now that she had survived the ordeal, her body healing, she felt a renewed determination to reclaim her rightful place. Seconds away from a showdown, she yearned to wield her weapons once more. No longer would she rely on hard work or strategic maneuvers; it would simply come down to a death threat or a massacre.

"Huh? But Damien said you used to be an assassin?" Emilia asked, propping her chin on her hands as she leaned towards the window, gazing outside through the transparent glass. She maintained an indifferent expression, but inside, she was reeling from the revelation that Damien had shared with her while her mom was busy arranging tickets and a vehicle for him.

'What?!?'

"Wh-what?" Visana exclaimed suddenly as her daughter's words registered. She pressed the brakes hard, causing the car to skid slightly, and they both jerked forward uncontrollably. With a twitching mouth, Visana turned to Emilia, her face a mix of shock and denial. "N-no, he must be joking."

"It's alright, you did great, Mom, and I don't hate you," Emilia replied, her eyes still fixed on the outside world. She muttered softly, her mind replaying the recording Damien had given her—one she had stumbled upon after being left alone. In that recording, she had learned the painful truth: her real mother was already dead.

Although the truth stung deeply, Emilia was aware of the sacrifices this woman had made for her. Even if Visana wasn't her biological mother, she had provided her with everything a child could wish for, perhaps even more than her real mother could have offered.

Pride welled up in Emilia for the woman who had raised her, but anger simmered beneath the surface as well—anger for the way Visana had poisoned herself all these years to keep Emilia from suspecting anything.

But she pushed those thoughts aside, knowing that voicing her feelings could only wound the woman who had sacrificed so much of her youth to raise her. Instead, she chose to hold her tongue, determination brewing within her as she silently resolved, 'I will kill you, Damien! You pervert!'