Villains Regret That I Transmigrated With Omnipotent System

Derek's men were bewildered, still refusing to let me go.

"Boss, are you sure? This boy is definitely an infiltrator. Even his hump was fake," one of them said.

"Exactly! And that cat… What was all that about?" another added, their suspicion evident.

Espel—I mean, Derek—cleared his throat, his expression turning even more menacing.

"Which part of 'let him go' do you cunts not understand? How many times must I repeat myself?" he roared, his voice echoing through the camp.

Immediately, his men released me.

"Okay, Boss… as you say," they murmured, stepping away hesitantly.

I smiled inwardly. The plan was a success. I winked at Derek—Espel—who gave me a slight nod in return.

"Hurry up. Forget checking—just give the slaves their meals. And not that crappy bread. Give them meat and rice, the same stuff we eat," he ordered.

"Huh? You want to give the slaves our food?" one of the men asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

"And what will we eat, then? What's gotten into you suddenly, Boss?" another questioned.

"Whoever doesn't want to part with their meat can consider themselves fired right now. Don't forget who got you this job," Derek—Espel—snapped.

"Huh? You can't be seri—"

"Shut up and do it," he cut them off, his tone final.

I chuckled at the scene. It seemed Espel could extract information from the minds of those she possessed—that's how she knew about the meat and the way Derek's men were organized.

The men sighed but relented, opening a wooden crate filled with meat of some kind. Who knew what kind of animals existed in this world?

The slaves, having already choked down their meager bread, stared in disbelief as the men roasted the meat over the fire and handed it to them—though their expressions were resentful.

Some slaves hesitated, wary of a trick, while others could barely contain themselves, snatching up the food hungrily.

While they ate, Derek took me to his personal tent. The moment we entered, he fell to one knee, bowing his head low.

"Sir, did I follow your instructions properly?"

I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, you did, Espel. You aren't useless after all. Rise."

Derek looked up and stood. "But, sir, are you sure this won't cause further trouble? From what I gathered in his memories, the current overseer of the Blackstone Mines is Mistress Valentina Boxuelle Ron Solstice. She is the eighth wife of Emperor Solstice. I am certain word will spread that one of the foremen shared his men's food with the slaves. Valentina will definitely take offense—feeding the slaves more than necessary is a direct violation of her instructions."

I sat down on the floor, leaning against the tent wall, my eyes closing. What kind of world was this, where even feeding people properly was a crime?

"Tell me everything you know about this Valentina," I said.

"She married the emperor of this empire, Lord Solstice, two years ago, but it was merely a political marriage. Valentina's temper was not suited for palace life, so she was made the overseer of the Blackstone Mines. Her job is to ensure a steady supply of Blackstones for the empire. Here, her word is second only to the emperor's. The Blackstone Mines are vast—hundreds of caves, thousands of slaves, all in the same wretched condition as the ones you saw."

"I see..."

So it was like this. Was it fair to help just thirty slaves while leaving thousands in the dirt? But feeding thousands of people would be troublesome. And was just feeding them even enough? Shouldn't their entire condition be improved?

"You can't possess more than one person at a time, can you?" I asked.

"No, sir. I cannot."

"Understood. And what would happen to this man's body when you possess someone else?" I murmured.

"He will remember everything he did while I was in control, just like you did when I possessed you."

"Ah, that's a pain, isn't it? Then, there's only one way."

***

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a dim orange glow over the sprawling estate perched atop the jagged cliffs. Mistress Valentina Boxuelle Ron Solstice sat in her luxurious drawing room, a place as cold and uninviting as its mistress.

She reclined on a chaise longue, her posture as regal as her station. Her figure was slender and poised, wrapped in a gown of black silk that shimmered in the moonlight. Her long, black hair was pinned up in an elegant twist, a few loose strands framing her porcelain face. Her beauty was undeniable—sharp cheekbones, piercing ice-blue eyes, and a mouth often twisted in disdain. Yet, there was no warmth in her beauty, only the cold indifference of someone who believed themselves far above those around them.

Her fingers toyed idly with the edge of a crystal goblet, filled not with wine but a concoction of herbs said to enhance vitality. She had little patience for indulgences, especially those that dulled the mind.

"Katherine," she called, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. It was a command, not a request.

From the shadows emerged her maid, a young woman with soft, flaxen hair tied in a simple braid. Katherine moved with practiced grace, her head bowed, her eyes downcast. Her pale skin was flawless, her delicate frame wrapped in a simple but immaculately tailored uniform. Despite her beauty, there was an air of sadness about her—a muted existence mirrored in her inability to speak.

Valentina's cold gaze swept over her. "Pour me another," she ordered, her tone devoid of gratitude. When Katherine moved to comply, Valentina's lips curled into a faint smirk, one that spoke of control, of ownership.

"Faster," she snapped, though the maid had shown no hesitation. "Is your silence meant to compensate for your incompetence? Perhaps I should remind you how grateful you ought to be for my charity."

Katherine flinched but said nothing, her hands steady as she poured the liquid into Valentina's goblet. The mistress reached out, brushing her fingers along Katherine's wrist—not a gesture of affection, but a reminder of who held power here.

Valentina sipped her drink and leaned back, her eyes drifting toward the large window overlooking the cliffside. "Do you know why I keep you, Katherine?" she asked, though she didn't expect an answer. Her voice was smooth but devoid of any kindness. "Because you're quiet. No prattle, no nonsense. Just obedience. A rare quality, especially among the fools I'm forced to manage."

She set the goblet down with a clink and rose to her feet, her gown trailing behind her like a shadow. She walked to the window, the heels of her shoes clicking against the polished marble floor. The wind howled outside, battering against the glass, but Valentina stood unmoved, her arms crossed as she surveyed the darkened landscape.

It was then that a servant entered the room, his steps hesitant. He was a middle-aged man, wearing the livery of the Solstice household, but his shoulders were hunched as if he expected a blow.

"M-Mistress Valentina," he stammered, bowing deeply. "I bring news from the mines. There has been... a disturbance."

Her head turned slightly, the movement deliberate and sharp. "A disturbance?" she repeated, her voice low and venomous.

"Yes, Mistress. One of the foremen has... altered the rations. The slaves were given meat and rice, ma'am."

Valentina's eyes narrowed, her lips thinning into a cold smile that held no humor. She turned fully to face the man, her presence as suffocating as the air before a storm.

"And which imbecile thought themselves wise enough to undermine my orders?" she asked, her voice calm but dangerous.

The servant hesitated. "I-It was Foreman Derek, Mistress."

"Derek," she repeated, her tone laced with contempt. "Summon him here. Immediately. Why didn't you bring him here in the first place?"

The man flinched, bowing lower. "M-Mistress, I—"

"Silence," she snapped, cutting him off with a wave of her hand.

"Y-Yes, Mistress," the servant stammered, scurrying out of the room.

Valentina exhaled slowly, her expression as composed as ever. She turned back to Katherine, who stood motionless by the side. With a flick of her hand, she motioned for the maid to approach.

"Prepare my chamber for my return," Valentina instructed, her voice softer but no less commanding. Her fingers grazed Katherine's cheek, tilting her face upward so their eyes met. "And make yourself presentable. I'll need... entertainment when this tiresome ordeal is done."

Katherine nodded once, her expression carefully neutral, and stepped back into the shadows.

Time passed, the air in the grand hall heavy with anticipation. The rhythmic click of Valentina's heeled boots against the marble floor was the only sound as she stood near her throne-like chair, awaiting the arrival of the fool who had dared defy her.

Finally, footsteps echoed through the chamber, and the heavy doors were thrown open. Derek was dragged inside, his hands bound behind his back. The guards tossed him to the floor at Valentina's feet, his body hitting the cold stone with a dull thud.

He remained silent as he looked up at her, his face devoid of fear, his expression unreadable.

Valentina's ice-blue eyes narrowed as she gazed down at him. "So, it was you," she murmured, her voice laced with contempt. "You disobeyed my orders. You thought I wouldn't find out?"

She lifted her foot and pressed it against his face, forcing his head against the floor. The pressure was just enough to bruise, to humiliate.

"You must think I'm a joke," she sneered, applying more weight. "Do you have anything to say before I have you executed?"

With deliberate grace, she removed her foot and stepped back. "Stand him up," she commanded.

The guards obeyed, seizing Derek by the collar and yanking him to his feet.

"Speak," she ordered, her voice dangerously low. "Why are you silent?"

But Derek did not answer. He remained still, his breathing shallow.

Unbeknownst to all, he was biting down on a small piece of Blackstone concealed in his mouth. The poisonous mineral was dissolving on his tongue, weakening his body, dulling his senses—his consciousness flickering in and out like a dying flame. But he endured, waiting for the perfect moment.

Then, in an instant, he lunged forward.

With startling speed, he rammed his forehead against Valentina's, the impact sending a sharp, sickening crack through the hall.

Valentina let out a sharp gasp as she stumbled back, her vision momentarily blurring from the force. A rare, genuine expression of shock crossed her face as pain lanced through her skull.

"YOU—!"

Before she could finish, Derek's eyes rolled back, his body going limp. The guards barely managed to hold him upright.

The hall fell into chaos.

"Mistress, are you alright?" One of the guards rushed to her side, his face pale with concern.

"You bastard! What did you do to her?!" Another kicked Derek's limp form, his panic evident.

But then—

"I am fine," Valentina's voice rang out, steady and composed.

The room went still.

She lifted her head, her icy gaze locking onto Derek's unconscious form. A slow, unreadable smile curled on her lips.

"Let him go," she commanded.

The guards hesitated, exchanging confused glances.

"M-Mistress?"

"You heard me," she said smoothly, brushing a stray strand of black hair back into place. Her expression was eerily calm, her usual cold indifference returning.

"Release him."

They obeyed—but none of them could shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.