A Regressed Villain: Heroines, Villainesses and Me?

In those critical moments, it was all too easy to interpret the actions of the doctors as prioritizing someone influential over the ordinary patients who were already in the hospital and desperately needed their care.

This scenario reflects a harsh reality in our society: those with wealth often possess the means to command privilege.

The way the doctors and nurses responded revealed an uncomfortable truth—status can sometimes overshadow the fundamental principles of empathy and care, especially in dire situations.

"They're quick," Aecilia remarked as she opened the car door. First, her black heels emerged, followed by her nightgown that fell just below her knees. She brushed aside a few stray strands of hair, her golden eyes scanning the crowd.

She noticed several men casting admiring glances her way, their expressions slightly flushed, yet she remained unfazed.

However, it wasn't just the men who seemed entranced; women were too.

Wait, women?

Realizing she wasn't the sole object of attention today, Aecilia shifted her gaze and spotted Avendial stepping out of the vehicle. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and wearing round black sunglasses that concealed his striking bluish eyes, he casually draped a tailored black suit over his shoulder, exuding an air of effortless elegance.

'Nope, he is definitely enjoying this,' Aecilia thought, blinking in surprise as she regarded him with pursed lips. Observing him, she sensed that he was trying to flex his charm—something she wouldn't have believed had she not seen it with her own eyes.

As they approached the car, one of the doctors, noticed that the individuals around them were dressed in clothes that seemed less extravagant compared to the wannabe-rich folks adorned with gold chains and rings.

"Sir, are your injuries deep?" the doctor asked, catching sight of the blood stains on Avendial's shirt. Although he appeared calm and composed, the doctor wondered if the wounds were not as severe as they seemed.

In that moment, the doctor was able to confirm that these individuals were indeed wealthy and influential.

Having connections with politicians and high-class society himself, he understood that the truly rich—those with enough money—do not feel the need to flaunt their wealth through ostentatious displays.

Instead, they prioritize their own comfort.

Seeing how both of these individuals appeared charming, particularly the woman who wore a nightgown purely by choice and seemed at ease in it, made it clear to him that these were genuine members of the wealthy elite.

"The patient is inside the car; take him," Aecilia said as she used the smart key to unlock the back door, which elegantly opened at her command.

Inside, they found a bloodied and injured man lying there, struggling to remain conscious. His vision was blurred, and the world around him felt distorted, as if time were slipping away, accompanied by jumbled sounds.

"Y-yes, hurry, take him to the emergency room!..." the doctor half-finished his sentence as the staff members gently maneuvered the man into a seated position before assisting him out of the car, following the doctor's lead. He took note of the man's disheveled state, the blood, and the fact that injured man was clad in construction work attire.

Despite his initial inclination to seek favors from whoever these people might be or to leave a positive impression, the doctor dismissed that thought upon witnessing the man's horrific condition.

Sprinting toward the emergency room, he focused solely on his duty, prioritizing the urgent need to save this dying man.

"Hm, should we take our leave?" Aecilia inquired as she stood with her arms folded beside Avendial. The other individuals surrounding them continued to gaze in their direction, as they had become the center of attention in that moment.

"No, let's wait here for a while," Avendial said, already aware that it wouldn't be long before he received numerous calls and had people trying to contact him through the CEOs or any means possible, including the Sertsul family. He chose to spend some time inside the hospital.

After all, when faced with a bloodbath, tonight would surely be chaotic. Those desperate to survive would likely reach out to him, and among those few would be shareholders of his company and old friends of his father.

Avendial couldn't simply ignore their cries for help. So, he made the decision to tune out those cries from the start.

"I see," Aecilia replied, glancing at Avendial, whose gaze remained fixed on the glass door of the hospital. She then turned and walked towards the car, picking up three cards that lay on the dashboard. With a quick motion, she threw her key to one of the guards, adding, "Park it."

"Huh, y-yes, have a good day," the guard stammered, his voice shaky as he responded. He gripped the steering wheel of the car, likely a dream vehicle for someone his age, and started the engine. As he maneuvered out of the entrance and headed towards the parking lot, his nervousness was palpable.

Vrooom!

"Woah, now that's..."

Ignoring the soft murmurs and background chatter of people engaged in conversation, both Avendial and Aecilia stepped into the hospital, each seeking a semblance of peace amid the bustle.

"Apologies, but you need to fill out this document," the receptionist said, approaching Avendial with a form in hand. He cast a fleeting glance at the header, which prominently read: Indemnity Form.

Avendial couldn't help but feel a tinge of amusement at the realization that no one was willing to take responsibility for the death of the man in question; even the hospital sought his signature as a guarantee that they wouldn't be liable for any complications that might arise concerning the injured individual during the funeral.

Unperturbed by the implications, Avendial prepared to sign the document. Suddenly, Aecilia snatched the form from the nurse's hand, extending her own as she demanded, with the intent to not let Avendial sign his name which might reveal his identity and create chaos, "Give me the pen."

After all, even though no one had seen Marquess Croceaus, his sign was well known among rich people given his business deals.

'Tch, jealous aren't you', The receptionist's expression unfolded into one of discontent as she glanced at Aecilia, a woman exuding confidence in her distinctive makeup—complete with black lipstick—and a stylish nightgown that suggested allusions of seduction towards the man she had approached.

It was evident that she had hoped to make an impression on him, even if her role as head receptionist mandated that she deliver a rather unceremonious document.

"Take a look in the mirror. What could I possibly be jealous of you for?" Aecilia murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried clearly to both Avendial and the receptionist. The latter frowned, her gaze trained on Aecilia with a fierce glare and her fists clenched, torn between irritation and the desire to maintain her poise in front of the striking man before them.

Ultimately, she chose silence, unwilling to tarnish her image in front of Avendial.

'Bitch...' The receptionist took the form and nodded, turning to leave, but not before muttering a curse under her breath about the woman in black, who seemed to hold herself in far too high regard, oblivious to her own place.

Dressed only in a nightdress, it was evident to the receptionist that this woman was merely a beautiful country bumpkin, in stark contrast to herself, who prided herself on being both smart and stunning.

"Marquess, will it be possible for you to wait here?" Aecilia asked, her eyes fixed on the receptionist's back as she purposefully strode away, her steps highlighted by a deliberate catwalk.

Aecilia felt her irritation rising as she observed the receptionist's demeanor; slamming her legs together, she stomped her way further down the hospital corridor, her frustration simmering to the surface.

Since the moment that woman had entered, Aecilia's patience had worn thin.

"Fine," Avendial replied, nodding. He assumed she was merely headed to the restroom, dismissing the look of discontent and jealousy that the receptionist had shot Aecilia.

Though he had noticed the tension, he chose to ignore it, understanding that he had more pressing matters to attend to.