The Villain Professor's Second Chance

Chapter 222 The Butler's Questions

Draven's hand absentmindedly brushed over the lapel of his cloak, his fingers lingering on the fabric. His mind wandered back to the court, to the way Sophie's hands had trembled ever so slightly when he had spoken. The finality in his words, the resolve that had poured from him, felt both distant and crushingly close at once.

He let out a quiet sigh, barely audible, but it did not escape Alfred's ears.

The butler, sitting across from him, had his usual impeccable posture, though his sharp eyes were focused on Draven, catching the brief crack in his master's otherwise unyielding composure. It was a rare thing to witness, especially from Draven. Alfred had been at his side for years, a constant presence in both the grand victories and the personal losses his master had faced. But this was different.

The weight of this decision seemed to settle over Draven in a way Alfred hadn't seen in some time.

"Is something troubling you, Master Draven?" Alfred asked in his usual composed, respectful tone, though there was a note of quiet curiosity woven into his words.

Draven didn't respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed outside the carriage window, his thoughts miles away. After a long pause, his eyes flickered back to Alfred, who met his gaze calmly, patiently waiting for his master to speak.

"You got the worst part of this, Alfred," Draven said, his voice low, but there was a bitter edge to his words. "Cleaning up after the chaos I leave behind. You always do."

Alfred allowed himself a small smile, though his expression remained neutral. "It's not my place to question you, master. I've never considered it the 'worst' part of my duties." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing in thought. "However, I have another question on my mind… one I've been considering for some time."

Draven's brow furrowed ever so slightly as he turned to look fully at his butler. "What is it?" he asked, his tone measured but laced with curiosity.

Alfred hesitated for only a moment, choosing his words carefully, as he had always done. "Master, is this truly the best choice?"

Draven's eyes narrowed, and a coldness crept into his gaze. "What exactly are you referring to, Alfred?"

Alfred's expression softened, though his voice remained steady. "I've always known of your obsession, your deep feelings. And I've seen how much you loved Lady Kirara before… before the tragedy. Losing her changed you, sir. You were lost, and for a time, I feared you might never return to yourself. But then, Lady Sophie appeared, and I saw a spark return to you.

She reminded you of what you had lost. Is this truly the best choice, to let her go like this?"

Draven's jaw tightened, and he looked away, his eyes drifting back to the window, where the shadows of the passing buildings flickered in the dim lantern light. For a long moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching between them, thick with the weight of unspoken emotions.

When he finally spoke, there was something different in his voice—a hint of emotion that Alfred rarely heard from him. "I'm not a fool, Alfred," Draven said quietly, his tone heavy with resolve. "I'm not stupid enough to let her follow me down the path I've chosen."

Alfred's eyes flickered with understanding, though his expression remained composed. "The path you've chosen…" he repeated softly. "What exactly do you mean by that, master?"

Draven turned to face Alfred fully now, his gaze piercing, as if searching for something in the butler's calm demeanor. "If I were to dive headfirst into hell," Draven said slowly, his voice cold and deliberate, "would you follow me?"

Alfred's lips curled into a rare smile, one that reached his eyes. He let out a quiet, almost amused chuckle before responding. "Master, I very much doubt you'll end up in hell. Despite the reputation you've built for yourself, there's a kindness in you that most will never see. A hidden kindness that you try so hard to bury." He paused, his smile fading slightly as he looked Draven in the eye.

"But yes, I would follow you, sir. Wherever you go, I'll be there. Even to the depths of hell, if that's where you choose to go."

Draven's eyes softened, just for a moment. "That's good to hear," he said, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. "But I won't be dragging her there with me."

Alfred's smile returned, though there was a sadness behind it. "I thought as much," he said softly. "You always did carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, master, even when you didn't have to." He leaned back slightly, his eyes drifting toward the carriage ceiling as if lost in thought. "I believe, truly, that the greatest form of kindness is the one that goes unseen.

The kind that doesn't ask for recognition or thanks. And perhaps…" He paused, glancing back at Draven. "Perhaps this decision of yours, this path, is a form of kindness as well."

Draven's gaze flickered, but he said nothing at first. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, of memories long buried, of decisions made and paths taken. The image of Sophie's face, the hurt in her eyes when he had spoken those cruel words in the court, flashed in his mind. He had chosen to push her away, to sever their connection in the harshest way possible. And it had worked.

She was gone from his life, just as he intended. But was it truly for the best?

"I didn't want her to follow me," Draven said after a long silence, his voice quieter now, as if speaking more to himself than to Alfred. "I didn't want her to become entangled in the mess I'm about to create."

Alfred listened quietly, his sharp eyes never leaving Draven's face. "And yet," he said softly, "you did it in the most brutal way possible, didn't you, master?"

Draven let out a low, bitter chuckle. "Brutal, yes. But necessary."

Alfred nodded slowly, understanding the logic, even if he didn't fully agree with it. "You've always been pragmatic, master. Cold, calculated. But I wonder… is there a part of you that regrets it?"

Draven didn't answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the window, watching as the familiar landscape of the Drakhan estate began to appear in the distance. The towering walls, the grand gate, all of it felt so far removed from the warmth he had once known. He had chosen his path, and now there was no turning back.

"I regret many things," Draven said finally, his voice distant. "But not this. This was… the right choice. She deserves better than to be pulled into the darkness with me."

Alfred's eyes softened, his heart aching for the young man he had served for so long. He had watched Draven grow from a brilliant but cold student into the powerful and feared mage he was now. He had seen him lose everything, only to build himself up again, stronger but more distant than ever. And now, once again, he was watching Draven sacrifice the one thing that might have brought him peace.

"Perhaps," Alfred said quietly, "you're right. Perhaps she does deserve better. But I still believe that what you've done, pushing her away like this, was done out of love. It was done out of a kindness that no one else will ever see."

Draven's gaze shifted to Alfred, his eyes hard but thoughtful. "Kindness?" he repeated, his voice laced with disbelief.

Alfred nodded, his expression resolute. "Yes, master. Kindness isn't always soft. Sometimes, it's cruel. Sometimes, the kindest thing we can do is to protect those we care about from ourselves, even if it means breaking them in the process."

Draven's eyes flickered with something unrecognizable—perhaps a flicker of doubt, perhaps a brief moment of vulnerability. But it was gone as quickly as it came. He leaned back in his seat, letting out a slow breath as the carriage pulled into the Drakhan estate.

"You may be right," Draven said quietly. "But it doesn't change what's to come."

Alfred smiled faintly, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding. "No, it doesn't. But for what it's worth, master, I'll be there, as always."

Draven allowed himself a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Thank you, Alfred."

As the carriage came to a halt, the grand gates of the Drakhan estate towering above them, Draven stepped out, his mind still heavy with the weight of his decision. He knew the path ahead would be filled with darkness and danger, but at least one thing was certain: he would walk it alone, without Sophie by his side. And perhaps, in some twisted way, that was the greatest kindness he could offer her.

As Alfred followed close behind, a quiet sense of resolve settled over the two of them.

This Draven is just a clone, but he holds the perfect mind as well as the heart of the original Draven as he's completely separate yet at the same time completely connected.

And right at this moment, he's gathering hatred in his eyes.

"It's time to be a villain,"