I Became the Master of the Villain

I almost screamed.
“Master?”
Kian asked with concern, likely because of the startled look on my face.

I quickly collected myself and said,
“Something moved over there… but I guess it was just a squirrel.”
Looked more like a filthy rat had snuck in.

Someone bold enough to trespass on the duchy’s private land without permission.
The first thing that came to mind was tabloid reporters.
The sound of that camera shutter had been all too familiar.

Not only had they trespassed on private property—they’d also tried to snap secret photos?
Should I have Sir Hans drag the intruder out right now?
No, no. I didn’t want to ruin this pleasant time with Kian.

But that didn’t mean I was going to let it slide.
I took off my glove and rubbed at my eye.
“Something’s in my eye… Would you take a look for me?”

Kian’s expression grew more worried as he leaned in.
“Let me see.”
He examined my eye closely. I fluttered my lashes, feigning discomfort, and said,

“Can you come a bit closer?”
At my request, Kian stepped in and leaned down even further, peering into my eye.
When he was close enough that I could see his eyelashes tremble slightly…
I tilted my head just a bit—just enough to angle the shot right.

From the side, it would make for a great photo.
Click.
“There, I’m fine now. Thanks.”

“I’m glad,” Kian said, visibly relieved.
Before he could dwell on the sound coming from the bushes, I quickly changed the subject.
They were probably euphoric now, thinking they’d caught a scoop.

But just wait a little longer. They’d regret it soon enough.
My lips must’ve curled up without me noticing, because Kian asked,
“Did something good happen?”

“Mhm. Something like that.”
I decided to keep it from him.
This kind of pest could be dealt with on my own.

***
A scoop!
Hanson, a reporter for The Daily Gossip, returned to the office with a heart full of triumph.

When the lady of the duchy had met eyes with him in the bushes, he thought he was done for—his soul had practically left his body.
But luckily, she didn’t seem to have noticed him. And because of that, he had managed to capture this photo.
A shot of the noble lady’s slave lowering his head as if to kiss his master.

With this, he could rake in cash by the bucketload!
His last article had been a massive hit—setting the highest sales record in the paper’s history. He’d even received a bonus for it.
Bundles of cash were already piling up in his imagination.

Hanson rushed over to the editor-in-chief with the developed photos. The editor chuckled loudly as he examined them.
“Well done! This’ll sell even better than last time!”
He clapped Hanson on the back, proud. Hanson puffed up with pride but replied with false modesty,

“You flatter me.”
With greedy eyes, the editor said,
“Alright, Hanson. Let’s make a fortune again!”

“Yes, sir!”
They both drifted into blissful daydreams, never imagining what was about to happen.
***

The next morning, the editor-in-chief of The Daily Gossip looked like a ghost.
The phone hadn’t stopped ringing since dawn.
Every caller was an advertiser. And ten times out of ten, they all said the same thing: they would no longer be placing ads with the paper.

The editor was on the brink of madness. Ad revenue, along with newspaper sales, was their main source of income.
When asked why they were backing out, each advertiser dodged and gave vague, evasive answers.
If the ads dried up, how could they afford printing costs? What about the rent? Or the staff salaries?

To ease his headache, he pulled out his pipe and lit up. The tension in his skull eased slightly.
Stay calm.
They had some company savings—he could use that to cover expenses for now. And they could always find new advertisers…

Just having a plan made him feel better. He took a long puff, trying to steady himself, when the phone rang again.
What now? He gritted his teeth and picked up the receiver, already annoyed.
“It’s been a while, Editor.”

He immediately straightened up and composed his voice.
“Lord Spencer? What an honor to receive your call—what brings you—?”
“Nothing much. I’m calling about the promissory note I gave you. I’ll be collecting on it at the scheduled maturity.”

The words hit like a bolt of lightning.
The editor’s hand holding the receiver went damp with cold sweat.
“I believe you agreed to extend the deadline not long ago—?”

“Circumstances have changed. I’ll expect full repayment by the due date.”
That loan had kept the paper afloat during a rough patch.
But now that he had hard evidence of the Ashford Lady’s romantic entanglement with her slave—this article would make him rich. He’d be able to repay the debt and then some…

But if he couldn’t pay it back before then, the paper would go bankrupt. The deadline was tomorrow.
“Please, just give us a little more time! If not, our paper’s done for...!”
The editor pleaded, but the answer came back cold.

When he begged for an explanation, he heard a click of the tongue on the other end.
“Editor, you messed with the wrong person.”
“I-I beg your pardon…?”

“Lady Ashford. She’s a terrifying woman. Even I would never want to make her my enemy.”
At those words from Lord Spencer, the editor finally grasped what was going on.
She had orchestrated everything—this was retaliation for that article.

He had assumed she’d let it slide a second time since she had the first.
He thought another fine would be the worst-case scenario. He never imagined she’d go this far...
“Heh... heheheh!”

So this was what it felt like to go from heaven to hell in a single day. The editor laughed like a madman—then collapsed, unconscious, unable to face reality.
***
Before heading to work, Hanson habitually checked his mailbox.

There was a letter waiting for him. He opened it on the spot.
His face turned ashen the moment he read the contents.
It was a court summons.

He’d been reported for trespassing on private property, and the document ordered him to appear in court on a specified date.
Hanson’s mind went blank. He had been sure no one knew he’d snuck into the duchy’s private forest...
‘It’s just a misdemeanor. Probably just a fine. No need to panic. Once I publish this article, I’ll get a bonus anyway… It’ll be fine.’

He steeled himself and headed into the office. The article he submitted was even more provocative than the last. It would sell like hotcakes again.
That comforting thought carried him to the office—until a fellow reporter approached him with a grim look.
“Hanson. We’re in deep trouble.”

“…What?”
“Our paper. It might go ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ under.”
Hanson frowned like it was a bad joke.

“Come on. What kind of prank is this first thing in the morning?”
But once he heard the full story, he could no longer treat it as a joke.
Only then did Hanson realize the magnitude of his mistake.

Lady Ashford—she was practically a wild beast you should never provoke.
And now, too late, the realization hit him.
He collapsed on the spot, murmuring in despair,

“I’m finished…”
A few days later, The Daily Gossip quietly ceased publication. People were puzzled how a paper that had been going strong just days ago had vanished so suddenly.
Rumor had it they’d angered the wrong noble.

People were curious who it was, but they were too scared of suffering the same fate to investigate.
Some truths, they said, were dangerous to know.
***

“Young Lady, we’ve punished them as you instructed.”
I smiled in satisfaction as the butler gave his report.
“Good work.”

He bowed and replied, “It was nothing.”
Then he pulled something from inside his coat.
“These are the photos we confiscated from the reporter.”

He placed them on the desk in the study—dozens of them, all from our picnic.
I hadn’t expected that many. I had to hand it to that reporter for his dedication.
Anyway… I would be keeping these photos for myself. Some of them would be dangerous in the wrong hands.

Like the one where Kian appeared to be leaning in to kiss me.
That had been the angle I’d intended… but now that I was seeing it in print, my face grew hot.
***

With that arrogant newspaper put in its place, I decided to have dinner in town with Kian that evening.
“They say this place is famous for southern-style lobster dishes.”
In the carriage, I showed Kian a brochure from the restaurant.

“I do enjoy seafood,” he said, sounding excited.
His pure, eager gaze was so cute that I smiled without realizing it.
We chatted about his favorite foods, and whether there was anything he couldn’t eat.

Before we knew it, the carriage arrived in front of the restaurant.
Hopefully, the chef’s cooking would suit Kian’s taste.
Just as we were about to go inside—

“Oh my… Kian?”
A noblewoman I had never seen before suddenly called out to him.