Daily Life of a Transmigrating Villain

The morning air was thick with humidity as a taxi car slowly rolled into a quiet, rural area on the outskirts of the main city. The surroundings spoke of modest living—small apartments, faded paint, and weather-beaten structures. It was a far cry from the glamorous life that Damien was used to. But here he was, standing in front of a humble apartment that seemed to belong to someone not too well off.

The sound of a window creaking open shattered the morning calm. Inside, Damien stirred awake, his body slowly pulling itself out of a somewhat uncomfortable sleep. He glanced around, taking in his surroundings as he rubbed his eyes. Just as his feet hit the floor, they landed directly on something soft and fleshy.

A loud groan followed. "Damn, I'm down here, you idiot!"

Damien, still half-asleep, looked down and saw the driver—Karl—lying on the floor, his face twisted in pain. Without missing a beat, Damien smirked, "I know. That's why I stepped on you. Come on, wake up. We need to go."

Karl, clearly not in the mood for jokes, rolled over and groaned louder. "You dumbass! At least let me wake up properly. I gotta take a dump, man! I just woke up."

Damien glanced over his shoulder with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh yeah, thanks for reminding me, Driver. I need to use the bathroom too."

Karl's eyes widened in disbelief. He sat up, glaring at Damien, his face contorted with frustration. "You total bastard! No! It's not 'Driver,' my name's Karl. And seriously, man, can't you wait?

I gotta go now."

But Damien was already headed toward the bathroom, ignoring the protests behind him. "Well, I'm already up, so I'm first. You'll have to wait."

Karl groaned, holding his head in his hands as he sat there on the floor. "Unbelievable... You're a total bastard, you know that?"

Without even turning back, Damien responded, "You've mentioned that already. Good to see you're consistent."

Karl's frustration reached its peak as he stood up, feeling the growing pressure in his gut. "You... you... dumbass! I swear, if I don't find a toilet in the next five minutes—"

His words were cut off by the unmistakable sound of the bathroom door closing behind Damien.

"Dammit!" Karl muttered, rushing toward the door, banging his fists against it. "Let me in! I swear to God, if you're in there more than five minutes, I'm kicking this door down!"

But Damien's response was muffled, something about "patience" and "good things coming to those who wait."

Karl growled under his breath, his discomfort intensifying. Not wasting any more time, he bolted out of the apartment, running down the street. There was only one option left—a public toilet down the block.

Holding his hands over his backside, Karl ran as fast as he could.

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The car hummed along the quiet streets as Karl drove, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. His face, though calm, was still flushed with traces of frustration. Damien sat beside him, his demeanor the complete opposite—calm, collected, with one hand resting casually on the window ledge.

His gaze wandered out into the distance, looking at nothing in particular, as if the world outside was of no consequence.

Karl's blank expression mirrored his focus on the task at hand. His grip tightened on the wheel slightly as he reached over to adjust the volume of the radio, letting the soft music fill the silence in the car. Just as he was about to increase it, he heard Damien's voice, cutting through the quiet like a sharp blade.

"You're an adult, and you still pooped your pants."

Karl froze. The music faded into the background as his mind was thrust into an unwanted flashback—a bad memory. He could feel the frustration rising again. Turning his head slowly, his eyes narrowed on Damien.

"Bastard. It was because of you," Karl grumbled, his voice filled with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "Who knew there'd be such a long line for the public toilet?! If only you'd come out ten minutes earlier, I wouldn't have had to… you know…" He trailed off, unwilling to relive the full humiliation.

Damien barely turned his head, an infuriatingly amused smirk playing on his lips. "Tch, pathetic."

Karl clenched his jaw, his hands gripping the wheel tighter as he forced his attention back on the road. He wasn't about to let this idiot get under his skin again—not right now, at least. He took a deep breath, visibly calming himself, and after a moment of silence, he asked, his voice more controlled, "So… where are we going, anyway?"

Damien leaned back, folding his arms behind his head in a relaxed manner, his eyes glinting with the smugness of someone who held all the cards. "Let's go to the Harrison family's mansion."

For a brief moment, Karl's calm demeanor faltered. His brows furrowed, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise. "The Harrison family? What the hell do you want there?"

Damien didn't answer immediately.

Instead, his smirk grew as he gazed out the window again, leaving Karl to wonder just what kind of trouble he was getting dragged into this time. The name alone was enough to cause a stir—a prestigious family, with deep connections in places that most people wouldn't even dare approach.

Still shaken, Karl pressed further. "Seriously, man. What's going on? Why the Harrison family?"

But Damien remained silent, his calm gaze never wavering, leaving Karl's growing curiosity unanswered as they drove.

They have finally arrived, located just a mile from the territory of the Harrison family.

The car rolled up to the imposing gates of the Harrison family estate, looming ahead like the entrance to a fortress.

Karl gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as his eyes flicked between the guards stationed near the entrance. Tension hung thick in the air as he glanced at Damien, who sat beside him with an unsettlingly calm smile.

"So, should I keep going?" Karl asked, his voice low with a trace of hesitation. "I mean, once we're in, if it's unauthorized, we're both going to be arrested. You know security's tight, especially after what happened with the patriarch getting severely injured."

Damien's smile didn't waver. In fact, it seemed to grow more confident as he leaned back in his seat, glancing casually at the guards ahead. "Trust me, Karl. No one's going to stop us."

Karl sighed, shaking his head but unable to suppress a faint grin. "Hope you're not lying this time," he muttered, though deep down, a part of him expected something to go wrong, as it always did with Damien.

With a final breath, Karl greeted his charge and accelerated the car toward the gate, the guards immediately becoming alert as they approached. One of them stepped forward, signaling for them to stop.

The other guards had their hands hovering near their holsters, ready to draw their weapons at the slightest sign of trouble.

"Why are you here?" the guard asked, his voice firm, professional.

Karl swallowed hard and put on his best nonchalant expression. "I'm just a driver. I brought this guy here." Without even looking in Damien's direction, Karl pointed his thumb toward the passenger seat.

The guard's brows furrowed, his gaze narrowing as he looked back at Karl. "What guy?" he asked, clearly confused.

Karl, still focused on his nervous explanation, continued, "You know, the guy sitting right here." His thumb jabbed in the direction of Damien again. "The man who—"

He froze mid-sentence. Something was wrong. Slowly, Karl turned his head to glance toward the passenger seat.

It was empty.

Damien had disappeared. There was no trace of him, as if he had vanished into thin air, leaving Karl to face the increasingly suspicious guards alone.

His heart dropped into his stomach as he processed the situation.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his expression going blank as the gravity of his predicament sunk in.

Surrounded by armed guards with no explanation, no way out, and his only companion having ditched him, Karl's mind raced.

The guards, meanwhile, were less patient, stepping closer, their hands now firmly on their guns.

"Who are you really? What's going on here?" one of them demanded, his tone taking on a more hostile edge.

Karl didn't respond immediately. He just stared straight ahead, his internal monologue repeating the same word over and over again.

"Fuck... Fuck... Fuck."

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'Is this the way?' Landing from the boundary while secretly passing by the guard, who was unable to stop him due to his speed and their distraction with the arriving taxi, Damien smoothly entered the mansion. Jumping into a corridor and moving with a relaxed, casual, and nonchalant posture, with both hands resting in his pockets, he kept looking around.

"Hey, is the patriarch arriving soon?" Civil servants were engaged in conversations about the arrival of their patriarch, who had somehow sustained an injury at a wedding held by the previous heir of the Raphael family.

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Although he had been receiving treatment at the Camphrian City Hospital, after reaching a stable condition where he was able to move, the patriarch was to be relocated to a hospital in the main city.

'He is still not here.' Upon hearing the words of the servants, he realized that he still had time to make preparations since the patriarch had not yet arrived. This prompted him to move down the corridor until he finally reached a room. Just as he was about to open it, a woman's voice called out to him.

"Who are you?"

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