Road To Revenge: Obtaining a villain system

007. Ariana Shaw

Niccolo knew his eyes had widened the instant he heard her name. His fingers tingled as he reached out and clasped her extended hand, trying to keep the tremor from showing. Ariana Shaw.

That name wasn’t just familiar, it was practically legendary in certain circles. Back when he still worked for Gregory, he had heard it whispered more than once. Ariana Shaw was the only daughter of the city’s Mayor, a young woman who had become something of a mystery to the public.

There were countless rumors about her beauty, the kind of beauty that could quiet a room and make time feel slower. But few had actually seen her in person, and those who had didn’t speak carelessly about it. Ariana was said to hate the spotlight. She avoided cameras, sidestepped journalists, and did everything she could to remain a shadow in her own father’s limelight.

And yet, here she was, standing in front of him in the fading light, her hair loose around her shoulders, her eyes as sharp as they were soft. She had the kind of presence that made him instinctively straighten his posture.

Before Niccolo could find the right words to respond, the sound of heavy footsteps approached fast. Two large men in fitted black suits strode out of the mansion gates, their eyes locking instantly on him. Their pace quickened, and their expressions sharpened into something between suspicion and aggression.

Niccolo didn’t flinch, but his jaw tensed. He could feel their silent questions before they even opened their mouths.

“He’s with me,” Ariana said before they could speak, her voice carrying a quiet authority that made them both halt mid step. “He saved me from my captors. I brought him here as a show of gratitude.”

The change in the men’s posture was immediate. They straightened, nodded once to Ariana, then gave Niccolo a slower, more assessing look, this time less hostile, but still cautious.

They escorted the two of them inside the tall wrought iron gates, and the moment Niccolo stepped into the courtyard, he had to suppress a low whistle. The mansion was… otherworldly.

It wasn’t just wealth on display —it was artistry. The driveway curved like a grand entrance in an old European palace, and the stone beneath his feet gleamed under the soft lighting. The main building rose before him, its tall windows reflecting warm light, giving the whole place an inviting glow. Every edge, every archway, every carved column looked like it had been placed with exact precision.

But it was when they stepped into the building itself that Niccolo truly forgot to breathe.

The air smelled faintly of jasmine and polished wood. The floor was a mosaic of marble so pristine it almost seemed untouched by footsteps. Crystal chandeliers hung above, scattering gold light across walls lined with tasteful paintings. Everything shone —not the cold, sterile shine of a showroom, but the rich, lived in glow of a home maintained with pride and care.

Niccolo had never seen anything like it. It felt… unreal, as if he’d stepped through a portal into another world entirely.

Before he could take in more, a flurry of movement caught his eye. An averagely tall man in a tailored suit descended the grand staircase with surprising speed, a graceful, beautiful woman right beside him. Their faces were a mixture of relief and disbelief.

“Ariana,” the man said, his voice shaking slightly as he reached her. He pulled her into a tight embrace, and the woman followed, wrapping her arms around her daughter with trembling hands.

Niccolo stood still, unsure whether to turn away from the intimate moment or simply wait.

When Ariana pulled back, she began telling them what had happened— how Niccolo had been the one to save her. She didn’t embellish, didn’t dramatize. Her voice was calm, almost casual, but Niccolo could feel the weight in every word.

When she finished, her mother crossed the room to him. She took his hands in hers and thanked him earnestly, her eyes shining with both emotion and exhaustion.

“You’ve brought our daughter back to us,” she said softly. “We can never repay that debt… but please, at least stay the night. Let our doctor tend to you. You’ve clearly been hurt.”

Niccolo shook his head gently. “I appreciate it, ma’am, but I’ll be fine.”

Her husband— Mayor Owen Shaw— looked at him with a gratitude that was almost fierce. “Then at least allow us to reward you,” he said firmly. “Thirty million dollars. That’s what those thugs demanded for her release. We had the money ready, but now… now I would rather it go to the man who brought her home alive.”

Niccolo blinked, his mind scrambling to keep up. Thirty million? In cash?

Mayor Shaw motioned to the suited men, and within moments, two large black duffel bags were carried in and placed at Niccolo’s feet. The weight of them was enough to make the marble floor give a muted thud.

Niccolo stared. In all his life, he had never seen this much money. He had imagined it, maybe, in the vague way a man might imagine stumbling into a fortune he knew he’d never touch —but this was real. Right there. In front of him.

Before he could respond, Ariana stepped forward again, holding out a sleek black card with her name embossed in gold. “If you ever need anything,” she said, her gaze steady on his, “call me. Anytime.”

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, she gestured to the driveway outside. “Take one of my cars. It’ll be easier than walking on the road with this much cash.”

One of her cars turned out to be a gleaming silver luxury model that Niccolo wouldn’t have dared to touch in another life. He loaded the bags into the trunk, still half convinced this was some elaborate dream.

He thanked them all again— Ariana, her parents, even the silent guards —and finally drove off.

The moment he exited the estate, the world outside felt darker, smaller, almost less real than the mansion he had just left.

And then, he heard it again.

>”Congratulations on completing your first task”<.

The voice wasn’t Ariana’s. It wasn’t anyone’s from the mansion. It was that same disembodied voice from before— smooth, calm, and utterly inhuman.

Niccolo gripped the steering wheel tighter. The game, it seemed, was only beginning.