Marek's eyes remained fixed on the translucent screen floating before him, completely ignoring the girl's struggles beneath his grip.
The words glowed with that unnatural golden hue, and although his expression did not change in the slightest, his mind worked at a dizzying speed, processing the implications of what he was reading.
'Transmigration completed. Destination world. Host.'
A more intense muffled moan than the previous ones escaped Seraphine Blackwell's throat, and Marek finally lowered his gaze toward her.
The girl had her face pressed against the stone floor, her arm still twisted in a lock that was clearly causing her considerable pain.
Because of that forced posture, her breasts were flattened against the cold pavement, spilling to the sides under the pressure, while her enormous ass remained raised, offering a view as shameless as it was enticing.
Her violet eyes shimmered between humiliation and fury as she tried to break free, causing her rear to quiver temptingly with each futile effort.
Marek released her wrist without ceremony, stepping away from her in a fluid motion as he rose to his feet.
As he stood up abruptly, Seraphine's body reacted from the inertia; her tits bounced forcefully before stabilizing, and the sway of her hips as she regained her balance was fucking provocative.
He offered her no help in getting up, nor did he show the slightest remorse for the brutality of the submission.
He simply stopped paying attention to her as if he had lost all interest in her existence.
His eyes quickly scanned the surroundings, and that was when he noticed the two figures approaching from the mansion with hurried steps.
The first was an older man, probably in his sixties, with gray hair perfectly slicked back and an impeccable black suit that screamed "butler" from any angle.
The second was a young woman with red hair tied into a practical bun, dressed in the characteristic uniform of a noble house maid.
The butler passed by Marek without even looking at him, heading straight toward Seraphine with an expression of genuine concern.
"Miss Blackwell, are you alright?" the old man asked as he carefully helped her to her feet, examining her reddened wrist.
As she was lifted up, the movement caused the girl's bust to shake strikingly, while her firm ass swayed with each unsteady step, accentuating her curves in a way that made it difficult to look away.
The maid, on the other hand, stopped in front of Marek with a mixture of concern and evident surprise on her face.
She was a girl with soft features, perhaps around twenty years old, with honey-colored eyes that looked at him as if she were seeing a ghost.
"Young master! Are you alright? That technique you used… I've never seen you move like that."
'Young master.'
Marek observed her in silence for a couple of seconds, and then recognition struck his mind like lightning.
Red hair, honey-colored eyes, noble house maid uniform… and that particular way of addressing him with the honorific.
'Nylara,' he finally identified. 'A minor character who only appeared a handful of times in the novel. A personal maid of the Nighthollow family, if I remember correctly. Which means…'
His eyes briefly shifted to the system screen still floating in his field of vision, and then back to the girl who was anxiously waiting for his response.
"I'm fine," he replied in a flat tone.
The maid seemed relieved by his answer, although the confusion did not leave her expression. Clearly, what she had just witnessed did not match the young master she had served for years.
Marek took advantage of that moment of silence to organize his thoughts, connecting the dots his mind had been gathering since he opened his eyes in this place.
'She called me young master with that level of familiarity, which confirms I'm part of the Nighthollow family.
The butler went straight to help Seraphine, ignoring me completely, which suggests she belongs to the Blackwell family.
Two noble families in a training courtyard, with a duel that has just ended…'
Memories from his previous life, specifically those boring afternoons when he had read web novels to kill time between missions, began to surface with surprising clarity.
'Destined to End the SSS Villainesses. A medieval fantasy novel with a generic protagonist who kept collecting heroines while defeating the villainesses threatening the kingdom. I read it years ago, when I still had time for that kind of useless pastime.'
His eyes settled once more on Seraphine, who was now standing with the butler's help, glaring at him with a look that promised revenge.
As she straightened up, her heaving chest rose and fell, making her tits bounce slightly with each labored breath, while her ass was sharply outlined beneath the fabric of her combat attire.
'Seraphine Blackwell, the first main villainess. A combat genius with pride as great as her talent. In the original novel, she was engaged to a second-rate noble from the Nighthollow family. A complete useless man despite belonging to one of the richest and most powerful houses in the country. The engagement had been arranged for political interests, but she despised him to the point of demanding a duel to break it.'
The situation was beginning to make sense now.
'If the useless one lost, the engagement would be annulled. If he won, something everyone considered impossible, she would have to marry him. And apparently, I just won that duel.'
A translucent screen. A novel's world. A system that mentioned villainesses.
'Transmigration. I really died on that battlefield and ended up in the body of a fictional character. What a ridiculous situation.'
Seraphine abruptly pulled away from the butler's grip and walked toward Marek with furious steps, stopping barely a meter away.
Her silver hair swayed with each movement, and her body vibrated with an aggressive energy that made her breasts shake with every firm step, while her ass bounced rhythmically and enticingly under Marek's gaze.
Her violet eyes burned with an intensity that would have intimidated any normal person.
"You!" she exclaimed in a voice trembling with rage. "You hid your true level all this time! Was that your plan from the beginning? To humiliate me in front of everyone?"
Marek did not even blink at her outburst. Instead, he cast a casual glance toward the mansion's balconies, where several figures had been watching the duel.
He distinguished two couples emanating an aura of authority: probably his parents and Seraphine's, the patriarchs of both noble families.
'Witnesses to the duel and to her defeat. No wonder she's so agitated.'
"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Seraphine demanded when she felt ignored, taking another step toward him with her fists clenched, which caused her bust to give a small bounce from the abruptness.
Marek finally granted her his attention, but not in the way she expected. His red eyes traveled up and down her body with an evaluative gaze, examining her as if she were an interesting specimen rather than a person.
He observed her natural combat stance, the way she distributed her weight, and how her curves tensed under the pressure of the moment.
'I'm really inside the novel,' he confirmed to himself as he studied her. 'And this is Seraphine Blackwell, one of the five main villainesses of the work. In the original canon, after this engagement was broken, her family forced her into another arranged marriage with the kingdom's prince. That, combined with the restrictions they imposed on her for rejecting said engagement, led her into a state of rage that eventually turned her into an antagonist.'
Seraphine interpreted his scrutiny in a completely different way. Her face flushed a furious red as she crossed her arms over her chest, involuntarily pushing her tits upward and making them look even larger as she instinctively tried to cover herself.
"Disgusting pig!" she hissed with venom in every word. "Are you savoring your prize now? Do you think that because you won a duel you have the right to look at me like that?"
Marek blinked once, processing her reaction, and then let out a sound that might have been a laugh if there had been more emotion behind it.
"You lost," he said simply, in that flat and cutting tone.
Seraphine opened her mouth to reply, but he continued before she could.
"A fair duel, without restrictions, in front of witnesses from both families. And you lost in less than three seconds." His red eyes pierced her like knives of ice. "If you have time to invent excuses, you should use it to become stronger. Although, considering what I just saw, I doubt that would change anything."
Seraphine's face shifted from the red of embarrassment to the white of pure fury. Her lips moved as if she wanted to spit out a dozen insults, but the words seemed to have gotten stuck in her throat.
In the end, she simply clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white and spun on her heels to walk away.
As she turned abruptly, her enormous ass shook violently and her silver hair lashed through the air, leaving an extremely enticing image as she departed.
'Proud until the end,' Marek observed without particular interest. 'At least she has the intelligence not to humiliate herself more than necessary.'
He shifted his attention to the system screen, which had remained motionless throughout the entire conversation. Neither Seraphine, nor the butler, nor Nylara had reacted to its presence, confirming his initial suspicion.
'Only I can see it. Interesting.'
"Young master," Nylara's voice interrupted his thoughts.
The maid remained at his side in a servile posture, waiting for instructions with that mixture of loyalty and confusion that had not left her expression since the duel ended.
Marek observed her for a moment, evaluating her with the same coldness with which he evaluated everything else.
'A loyal maid who clearly did not expect her young master to be capable of something like what she just witnessed. She is useful to me, for now.'
"Let's go to the duke," he ordered, beginning to walk toward the mansion without waiting for her response.
"Y-Yes, young master!" Nylara hurried to follow him, positioning herself half a step behind him as protocol dictated, her own body moving smoothly behind him.
As they approached the main entrance, Marek noticed that the figures who had been on the balconies had already descended and were waiting for them in the foyer.
Four people with expressions ranging from surprise to suspicion.
Before entering, Marek cast one last glance over his shoulder toward the training courtyard.
Seraphine remained standing where he had left her, her arms crossed over her chest, emphasizing her bust, and her fists still clenched.
Her silver hair shone under the sun, and although her face was partially obscured by the distance, the tension in her ass and thighs was perfectly visible from behind.
Her violet eyes met his for a brief instant, and she immediately looked away while covering herself even more, as if his mere attention were an unforgivable affront that made her curves tremble.
'The first villainess turns out to be my fiancée,' Marek thought as he turned his attention forward again. 'This is going to be troublesome.'