The main hall of the Nighthollow mansion was exactly what Marek expected from a noble family: high ceilings decorated with pretentious frescoes, dark wooden furniture that probably cost more than an average house, and that suffocating atmosphere of inherited wealth he knew so well from his previous life.
Four figures awaited him in the center of the room, arranged in two clearly differentiated pairs.
To his right were his parents—or rather, the parents of the body he now occupied. Rowan Nighthollow was a middle-aged man with black hair streaked with gray and blue eyes that examined him with a mixture of surprise and caution.
At his side, Leonora Nighthollow stood out for her mature beauty, with delicate features framed by jet-black hair and an expression that tried, without much success, to conceal her bewilderment.
Leonora's elegant dress clung to her waist, highlighting an hourglass figure that retained enviable firmness, making each of her measured movements subtly alluring.
To his left, the Blackwells presented an interesting contrast. Godwin Blackwell was a burly man with an easy smile and calculating eyes that gleamed with barely concealed interest.
Rosalind Blackwell, for her part, maintained a neutral expression that revealed nothing of her thoughts, though the tension in her shoulders suggested she was not particularly pleased with the outcome of the duel.
Behind each couple, a maid stood in a service position. The one accompanying the Nighthollows was a woman in her thirties with blonde hair gathered into an elegant bun, whose uniform failed to conceal a generously curved figure that any man would notice, especially with the way her bust rose and fell with provocative slowness.
The Blackwells' maid was equally striking, with jet-black hair and a voluptuous body with wide hips that the discreet uniform barely contained, stretching the fabric over her firm ass with each small adjustment of her posture.
'The head maids of each family, most likely,' Marek deduced without particular interest as he walked toward the center of the room.
Rowan Nighthollow was the first to speak, stepping forward with an expression that blended disbelief and something akin to paternal pride.
"Marek," he began in a deep voice, "I must admit that what we witnessed was… completely unexpected. I never imagined you were capable of something like that."
Leonora nodded beside her husband, bringing a hand to her chest with a dramatic gesture that seemed rehearsed, causing her breasts to press together and sway slightly beneath the fine silk.
"My son, where did you learn to move like that? All these years we thought that…"
"That I was useless?" Marek finished in a flat tone that made both of them visibly tense. "What you thought before doesn't matter. The result speaks for itself."
An uncomfortable silence settled among the Nighthollows, but before they could respond, Godwin Blackwell stepped forward with determined strides and a broad smile that did not reach his calculating eyes.
"Splendid! Absolutely splendid!" he exclaimed as he extended his hand toward Marek with enthusiasm.
"I must confess I had my doubts about this engagement, young Nighthollow. The rumors about your… situation… were rather discouraging. But this changes everything."
'There it is,' Marek thought as he observed the man's smile.
'That gleam in his eyes. I've seen it hundreds of times before. Politicians, businessmen, crime lords… they all wear that same expression when they scent an opportunity to gain more power.'
"I'm glad to know you're not the useless man everyone claimed," Godwin continued without losing his smile.
"The union of our families will be beneficial to both parties, and my daughter…" his gaze briefly shifted toward the door, "will be an excellent addition to the Nighthollow house."
Marek observed the outstretched hand for a moment. This man did not see his daughter as family, but as currency. A piece on a political and economic chessboard.
'Pathetic, but useful. A man like that is easy to manipulate if you know which buttons to press.'
"Your daughter's hand is an acceptable offering," Marek replied as he shook Godwin's hand with a firm grip.
The Blackwell patriarch's smile widened, clearly satisfied with the pragmatic response.
At that moment, the doors of the hall opened and all eyes turned toward the newcomer—except Marek's, who kept his gaze fixed on Godwin for a second longer before turning with deliberate slowness.
Seraphine Blackwell entered with stiff steps, her silver hair now tied into a high ponytail that left her elegant neck exposed.
She had changed out of her training attire into a formal dress that accentuated her athletic figure; the fabric molded to her firm buttocks, which swayed rhythmically with each furious stride, while her expression remained as stormy as when he had left her in the courtyard.
Without saying a word, she walked directly toward her mother and positioned herself at her side with her head lowered. Her clenched fists at her sides and the tension in her jaw revealed everything her sealed lips did not say, making her breasts tremble from the force of her restrained breathing.
Rosalind Blackwell placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder in a gesture that could have been either comfort or warning.
-x- -X- -x-
Half an hour later, Marek found himself in a smaller room watching as the four patriarchs reviewed legal documents on an oak table.
'All of this is ridiculously sudden,' he reflected as his gaze occasionally drifted toward Seraphine, who remained standing by the window with her arms crossed.
That position pushed her bust upward, emphasizing her curves temptingly while the dress tightened over her pert rear. 'Although I suppose in this world, noble engagements work like this. Contracts, signatures, and that's it.'
His thoughts drifted to the duel he had won barely an hour earlier.
'I only won because she was overconfident. She charged straight at me without strategy, without using magic, without considering that there might be something different about her opponent. If she had fought seriously from the start, with her full arsenal… it probably would have been an interesting fight.'
He did not entirely blame her for that arrogance. After all, her entire life she had faced the useless Nighthollow heir, not a monster who had massacred dozens of elite assassins in his previous world.
'Though this body…'
Marek discreetly flexed his fingers, feeling the difference. His current height was around six feet, considerably less than the nearly six and a half feet he had before.
And the physique… was deplorable. Muscles atrophied from years of inactivity, clumsy reflexes, and stamina that would probably leave him panting after climbing a flight of stairs.
'I'll have to work on that.'
At that moment, the translucent screen that had remained inactive since the duel flickered before his eyes, displaying a new message.
[Mission Available!]
[Sign the engagement with the first villainess of "Destined to End the SSS Villainesses"]
[Rewards]
[Status Panel unlocked.]
[Host body memories.]
'I was going to do it anyway,' Marek thought as an almost imperceptible smile curved the corner of his lips. 'Though I must admit that attractive women were always one of my weaknesses. And this particular villainess…'
His gaze slid toward Seraphine, tracing the line of her thighs and the curve of her hip outlined beneath the silk. 'Definitely not bad.'
"The documents are ready," Rowan Nighthollow announced, interrupting his thoughts. "All that's left is the fiancés' signatures to make the engagement official."
Marek approached the table where two identical contracts awaited. Seraphine did the same from the other side, and for a moment their gazes met.
Her violet eyes burned with pure resentment, while his red eyes remained as cold and indifferent as ever.
A servant offered them both quills. Marek took his without ceremony, but he noticed how Seraphine gripped the quill so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
Her hand trembled slightly over the paper, resisting placing her signature on something that would seal her fate.
The seconds stretched uncomfortably until finally, with a brusque and resentful motion, Seraphine signed the document as if she were stabbing the paper. As she leaned forward to do so, her ass tightened firmly, offering a rounded and perfect silhouette beneath Marek's gaze.
Marek, for his part, signed with the same indifference with which he did everything else.
"Excellent!" Godwin Blackwell applauded with genuine enthusiasm, stepping forward to shake Rowan's hand. "This alliance will strengthen both families. And of course, my daughter will move to the Nighthollow mansion immediately to fulfill her role as the principal wife."
Seraphine lifted her head abruptly, her eyes wide with horror at her father's words.
But before she could protest, Godwin's warning glance effectively silenced her, making her chest rise and fall agitatedly from indignation, causing her attributes to bounce rhythmically.
Marek observed the exchange without any expression, though internally he processed the implications.
'A villainess wife living under the same roof. This will be… interesting.'