Reborn as a villain:Claim the omega, Kiss the beta, Kill the dukes Chapter 164: See you

Chapter 163

Ciel

I don’t go to the Crown Princess’s wing. Instead, I head ho.

Despite my outwardly calm deanor, my fingers are trembling. Slightly. Just enough that Lanny pats my hand and says, "Papa, stop."

I can’t.

I imdiately head to our section, beeline toward the bedroom, place Lanny on the bed, and collapse to the floor.

My back hits the wall. My knees draw up. My hands press flat against the cold marble, grounding myself, reminding myself where I am.

Not there. Not then. Here. Now.

I was so scared.

So, so scared.

But I didn’t show it.

I stood my ground.

I choke out a relieved laugh. It sounds strange all weird ,wet, broken, nothing like a laugh should sound.

Sure, he was scary. But it was more of a reflex, a mory, a ghost. The Sebastian in my head—the one who owned —he’s not as scary as he used to be.

He’s just a man.

A cruel, pathetic, desperate man.

And I stood in front of him and didn’t flinch.

I laugh again. Louder this ti. It echoes off the walls.

My lips taste salty.

Only then do I realize I’m crying.

I notice Lanny rushing toward the edge of the bed and rush toward him, catching him just in ti. I gently place him on the floor.

It feels like so part of the weight that was on has been released.

Not all of it. But so.

I take a breath. Then another.

I place a scarf over my head, drop Lanny off at the Crown Princess’s wing and leave the palace.

With an entourage of security, of course. But I still leave.

The car glides through the city. I watch the buildings blur past, the people walking, the world spinning on without . For once, I’m not running from sothing. I’m going to soone.

Nolan.

The building is a high-rise, all glass and steel, gleaming in the afternoon light. Fancy. Intimidating. I can’t believe he works here.

I notice people in suits walking in and out, briefcases in hand, phones pressed to ears. No wonder Nolan wears formal clothes for work. He fits in here—broad shoulders, tailored shirts, that serious expression he gets when he’s focused.

I walk into the building. The lobby is vast, marble floors, a ceiling so high it makes feel small. I approach the reception desk.

"Uhm, hello," I say to the man behind it.

An oga. I can tell from how pretty he is—delicate features, soft hands, a smile that’s practiced but not unkind.

"Of course. Welco to Vale Logistics. How may I be of service?"

"I’m here to see sobody."

"Of course. Do you have an appointnt?"

"Uhm, no." I shift on my feet. "But I’m here to see Nolan. If you could tell him it’s , he would understand."

The oga blinks at .

I tug my scarf lower, hiding more of my face. The collar of my coat is already high, but suddenly it doesn’t feel like enough.

He gives a soft smile. Kind. Understanding.

"What’s their full na?"

I feel embarrassed. Nolan. I said Nolan, like this receptionist would know.

"His na is Nolan Harlow."

He types on his computer. "And who are you? What’s the purpose of your visit?"

"Uhm..." My face warms. "I’m his... lover."

The word feels strange in my mouth. Lover. Like sothing from a novel. But it’s true. I am.

"As for the purpose of my visit..." I trail off.

He types again. "Personal business," he says, and hands a pass.

"This is a visitor’s pass. You can head to the elevator and press the 11th floor. Mr. Harlow’s office is there."

"Thank you," I say, taking the pass.

I walk toward the elevator, my heart pounding.

The doors close. The numbers climb.

I can’t believe I called Nolan my lover. This is the first ti I’ve acknowledged him as my lover and not just my best friend.

It makes feel weird.

And giddy.

Like—I an, obviously. We’ve said so. We’ve done things. But saying it to an outside party makes it feel... real.

We’re not best friends anymore.

We’re more.

The doors open. I step out onto the 11th floor.

The office is vast—open cubicles, soft lighting, the hum of computers and quiet conversation. People sit at desks, staring at screens full of numbers.

The sa kind of numbers I see on Nolan’s laptop late at night, when he’s too focused to notice watching.

They make dizzy just looking at them.

I scan the room. Then I see it,an office with glass walls at the far end.

And I see my target.

Nolan is inside, sitting at his desk, frowning at his computer screen. His sleeves are rolled up. His hair is slightly disheveled, like he’s been running his hands through it. His jaw is set in that focused way that makes him look serious. Important.

Nothing like the Nolan who leaves his socks on the bathroom floor and makes Lanny giggle by blowing raspberries on his stomach.

This is sothing else.

I inhale. Walk toward the door. Knock.

"Co in," he says.

His voice is different, it’s deeper, steadier, the kind of voice that expects to be listened to. I’ve never heard him sound like this before.

So this is his work voice.

I open the door.

He looks up. His eyes widen.

"Ciel?"

"Surprise," I say in a small, weak voice.

He imdiately stands up and pulls into a hug. His arms are tight around , warm, familiar. I press my face into his chest and breathe.

"I hope I wasn’t interrupting," I say, suddenly nervous.

He pulls away and looks at . His eyes scan my face worried.

"Of course not." His voice is soft. He pulls further into the office and shuts the door behind us.

The glass walls an everyone can still see us, but they can’t hear. I watch people glance over, curious, then quickly look away when I catch them.

"Are you okay?" Nolan asks, guiding to the chair beside his desk. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened. I just..." I sink into the chair. "I needed to see you."