Daily Life of a Transmigrating Villain

Damien stepped out of the airport, the rhythmic click of his shoes momentarily blending into the city's steady hum—honking cars, distant conversations, and the ceaseless buzz of movement—but it all washed over him like a distant echo.

He glanced upward.

Skyscrapers reached into the sky, their glass and steel façades glinting under the midday sun. The streets were chaotic—cars were jammed bumper to bumper, and pedestrians darted through the frenzy, all seemingly pursuing something elusive.

Yet, to him, it was all inconsequential.

'Main city, huh?' A faint smirk tugged at the corners of Damien's lips as his gaze swept over the scene. Amid all this hustle and bustle, he found amusement; to him, it was merely noise.

'Are there any major plot points activated?' His thoughts shifted. Without pausing, he reached out to his system. His voice, cool and detached, fell from his lips as if it were an afterthought.

[No. There's no plot triggered yet.]

'Perfect.' The devilish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth only grew wider.

He still had time—plenty of it.

Edward wouldn't arrive for at least a month, which left Damien with ample room to maneuver, to plan.

'Location of the side character?' he asked, feigning a boredom that only partially masked his curiosity, which flared just for an instant.

[Akira Malhotra, present location: Rose Street.]

A display materialized, marking a spot on his mental map. A library. Of course, it had to be somewhere as mundane as that.

Typical for a side character—someone easily overlooked, at least for the moment.

Damien flagged down a taxi. It arrived almost as if the city itself bowed to his whims.

He slid into the backseat, letting out a quiet breath while watching the city rush by outside the window. His thoughts were elsewhere, formulating his next move.

But the driver seemed all too eager to engage in conversation.

"Busy day, huh?" The man's voice broke through Damien's reverie. He noticed the driver's eyes glancing at him through the rearview mirror. "You don't strike me as someone who enjoys airports much. Am I right?"

'Is he from another country?' Damien tilted his head, giving the driver a measured look. Then, without missing a beat, he asked, "What's your address?"

The driver blinked, visibly thrown off by the sudden, unexpected question. "Uh, my address? Oh! It's in Queens—Sunnyside, to be exact. It's a quiet place, way out of this craziness."

Damien let a small smile break through, intrigued by the man's eagerness to share. "I imagine it's a nice change of pace," he replied thoughtfully. "All the buzz of the city can be overwhelming."

"Yeah," the driver chuckled, adjusting his grip on the wheel. "You get used to it, though. Just need to find your own little escape from time to time, you know?"

Damien nodded, contemplating the idea. Escapes were vital. "Do you have a favorite spot?" he asked, genuinely interested now.

"There's this old park by the water," the driver said, sounding nostalgic. "Whenever I feel the weight of the city, I just sit there and watch the boats go by. It's peaceful, but there are scammers who sell ice cream at double the price."

Damien arched an eyebrow, intrigued. A park by the water? He stored that piece of information away, a potential resource for the future. "Sounds lovely," he replied, his voice smooth. "Maybe I'll check it out someday."

The driver nodded enthusiastically, clearly happy to share his slice of paradise. "You should! And hey, if you want, I can drop you off there instead. It's not too far out of the way."

"Some other time," Damien replied as he checked his pockets for money, which were empty, but without making the driver suspicious, he inquired, "What's your opinion on the city?"

The driver chuckled, his demeanor lightening as if relieved that they had shifted to a less fraught topic.

"Ah, the city? It's a love-hate relationship, you know? It has its own rhythm, like a living beast—never at rest, never stopping. But it has a heart, too. A place like Sunnyside really helps to keep you grounded when you need to escape the madness."

A faint smile curled at the corners of Damien's lips. "And yet here you are, driving through the heart of it every day."

"Yeah, funny, isn't it?" the driver replied, laughter bubbling forth a bit more freely this time. "I spent years trying to get away, and now look at me, navigating the chaos on a daily basis. It can wear you down sometimes, but hey—it's home."

Damien leaned back with hands folded, studying the driver intently for a moment, amusement glimmering in his eyes. "Are you truly content with that? What if someday you offend some rich family's third-generation heir? Isn't the main city their hub?"

The driver risked another quick glance at him through the rearview mirror, somewhat oblivious to the darker undertones lurking in Damien's gaze. "About that, who knows when we will kick the bucket, so I don't care much. Of course, there are only a few young masters or misses I need to care about; otherwise, others don't even care to ride a taxi."

"So, you mean those who you need to worry about travel through a taxi?" Damien murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He reclined back in his seat, his gaze locked on the sprawling city before them.

The driver, still riding the wave of their casual conversation, continued to express his thoughts. "Yeah, others stay away from these places; mostly they are found in sector 15 where major clubs and Ramphian groups of hotels are."

"But some of them drive rashly, and if they get into an accident, they just throw some money," he added, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his voice, which was definitely part of the harsh reality. "Last week, a teenager hit two IT professionals on a bike with his car, and the courts made him write an essay about driving safety and granted him bail.

I heard yesterday that the car involved in the accident was also returned, since it was an exclusive model. Money can purchase everything, even someone's life."

Damien remained silent for a moment, contemplating the driver's words. Given the presence of an influential family in the main city, it is obvious that those without power will be crushed. "Who is the well-known playboy of the city?"

The driver glanced back, a grin spreading across his face. "Now that's a question! It's definitely Ye Fan! From the Ye family, he has slept with several women, either willingly or forced them by using his family's strength."

As the car meandered through the winding streets, Damien's eyes flicked back to the driver. His interest wasn't really in small talk, but the man didn't need to know that.

Soon, they approached Rose Street.

Damien leaned forward slightly. "Stop here," he instructed, his voice laced with authority.

"Here?" The driver looked puzzled. "But we're not quite there—"

"Here," Damien repeated, his gaze locking with the man's in the rearview mirror. His voice left no room for argument.

The driver hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "Whatever you say, boss."

The taxi pulled over, and before the driver could even glance back to ask for the fare, Damien was gone.

The door hardly made a sound as he vanished into the sea of people, his presence fading into the city's rhythm.

The driver stared into the empty backseat, utterly bewildered. "What the—?" he muttered, scratching his head.

The door had somehow closed on its own, leaving no trace of Damien's sudden departure. He sighed, chuckling to himself in disbelief. "Man, did I just get scammed by some con artist?"

With another shake of his head, the driver shifted back into gear, a wry smile curling his lips. "And... in this city," he murmured, merging back into traffic before his expression turned to anger as he shouted, "Fuck! If I see you again, you're dead!"

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'Ye fan?' Damien glancing at a screen that had suddenly appeared in front of him. He took a moment to absorb the information displayed.

[ New Son of Heaven Detected = Ye fan ]

'Where is he right now?' Damien asked, fully aware that the system likely wouldn't be able to pinpoint his location since no significant plot had been established yet.

[ Not possible to track --⟩ Lyra here, he's in a hotel, sleeping soundly. ]

'....Zero?' Damien's focus slipping from the system's screen. He caught sight of the small tab that indicated his accumulated hate points had dropped to zero. Find adventures on m_v l|e'm-p y r

[ Ahem, you've received crucial information! What does it mean for your hate points to reach zero? ]

'....damn you, Lyra' Damien's mouth twitched in irritation as the system's voice chimed in. It had effortlessly drained his hard-earned hit points, delivering what felt like a half-baked piece of information—especially since he still didn't know which hotel that bastard of a man was resting in.

'Now, let's turn our attention to our second supporting character,' Damien realized that Ye Fan was not currently on Rose Street, so he set off towards the specific library that the system had pointed out to him.