A Regressed Villain: Heroines, Villainesses and Me?

In the northeastern province of Croceaus Estate, the stillness of the night enveloped the atmosphere with a refreshing breeze, while the buildings showcased architectural designs rooted in the principles of natural airflow.

This stood in stark contrast to the free cities, where anyone could construct houses in any shape they desired, often resulting in structures that blocked sunlight from reaching their neighbors.

The houses here predominantly featured simple and similar designs, generally three stories tall, accommodating multiple residents.

These individuals belonged to the Croceaus territory, either born into it or fortunate enough to receive an invitation to become a native of this esteemed place.

Typically, talented individuals were invited by the main family or specific divisions of the branch families residing in Croceaus Estate, based primarily on their assessments, which were often somewhat arbitrary.

Most talented individuals from free cities accepted these invitations, knowing that the Kingdom of Thaloris could offer them a significantly improved standard of living.

However, entering the territory of a nobleman often meant entering a feudal system where rights were rarely acknowledged, and grievances often went unheard by the governing authorities.

Protection was seldom guaranteed.

Thus, accepting such an offer resembled a double-edged sword.

While they might enjoy a comfortable life, they often lacked the recourse to challenge injustices. Consequently, many only chose to accept proposals from noble families regarded highly in the free cities.

The Croceus family, distinguished from others, boasted an acceptance rate exceeding 97.8%.

Their outstanding reputation and their practice of recruiting only exceptionally talented individuals from elsewhere, all with appropriate salaries and contracts approved by the government, positioned their invitations as a significant leap in one's social hierarchy.

Of course, the activities taking place within their territory cannot be reached by the government.

Nevertheless, the assurance that the terms of the contracts were validated by the royal court and the government provided many with a sense of security.

While there were inherent risks, most understood that success often required taking such risks.

Thus, individuals frequently chose to migrate here, with their assignments sorted based on their respective talents, ensuring that the natives could blend in and adapt alongside them.

In the northeastern province of Croceaus Territory, one would find a community primarily focused on farming, consisting of generations of families who had been born and raised on this land.

At the grand entrance of a mansion reminiscent of a lavish palace, where modern buildings harmoniously blended with traditional architecture, a few local guards stood vigil at the imposing iron gates, their guns firmly in hand.

These guards were private soldiers, specifically assigned as bodyguards to the mayor of the 7th province.

"Hey, did you hear? The Lord of the land is probably still in the Royal Kingdom," remarked one guard, dressed in a sleek black suit and a modern bodyguard uniform, wielding an M16-A4 with both hands. He glanced over at his fellow guard as they began their night shift.

"Yeah, my wife mentioned that others returned without him, and even the Lord's bodyguard came back alone," replied the other guard, his wife working as a maid inside the main palace of the Croceaus family. It was certainly a love match, especially since her position as a maid was considered higher and more significant than his.

"Hm, you should consider yourself lucky that your wife is not a maid here, haha," the first guard chuckled, casting a sly glance at his colleague, who felt a twitch in his mouth at the jest.

"Shut up, you idiot. Don't you know the rules? Maids here are themselves whores who spread their legs; that fat bastard can't force them." The other guard shot back, recalling the rigid regulations in place while glaring at this bastard who dared to compare his wife with the maids of this place.

According to the strict guidelines, if a servant or anyone felt mistreated and lodged a complaint with the main family—using the specific apps or websites set up by the Croceaus family—the mayor would face a thorough investigation. In extreme cases, such actions could even lead to his execution.

After all, this was not an antiquated feudal system where complaints could not reach a distant king due to a lack of direct communication; nowadays, anyone could simply send an email, prompting the establishment of a proper investigation team within hours.

The judgment on such cases would come swiftly, particularly under the authority of the formidable Head Butler, Alfred Spartan.

It should be noted, of course, that *Spartan* was merely a title bestowed by the locals, keenly aware that he was far more dangerous than anyone dwelling within this whole territory.

"Hahaha, yes, I know, I know," The guard chuckled, holding back his urge to grumble about sending an email about his excessive workload, for he understood that even walls can eavesdrop.

If an investigation were to take place and revealed that the complainant had delivered false accusations, the consequences would fall not upon the accused but rather upon the accuser, regardless of gender.

Thus, if a woman falsely claimed that a man committed sexual assault, and the investigation ultimately cleared his name, she would face the same punishment that would have been meted out to him—execution, in this grim reality.

Ultimately, this was not a democracy where anyone could manipulate the laws without consequence, feeling as if they were free to act without restraint.

In summary, while one has the vast sky to soar, that very sky is saturated with diligent surveillance; one misstep, and the penalties could be dire—possibly even fatal.

As one wandered through the sprawling mansion, strolling along an impeccably tended garden, its lush greenery a testament to the skill of the gardeners.

The luxurious cars that graced the premises created a stunningly picturesque scene.

Each worker diligently carried out their tasks, reaping the benefits of timely payments due to a minimum wage system that guaranteed a salary of 10,000 Imperial Crowns.

For many, including those toiling as sewage cleaners, it seemed as if they were living a dream life.

Indeed, there was a reason behind Marquess Croceaus being known as the wealthiest man in the Arinphiam Empire.

As moonlight cascaded through the empty corridor, it filtered into a half-open door, illuminating a room where a dim, yellow light glowed softly.

The darkness outside lay heavy with the knowledge that night had fully descended, while the moonlight gracefully streamed through the windows.

"Sir Berlyn, I—I wanted a promotion to be considered for the main palace," a delicate, womanly voice called from within the room, echoing softly down the hallway.

As the door swung ajar, three maids came into view among many others, one of whom had already begun to remove her garments. She had undone her white apron and was now sliding the black fabric of her inner dress from her shoulder, revealing milky white skin within.

"Y-yes, I'm seeking a raise," Another maid chimed in, mirroring the actions of her colleague as she lifted her skirt, having discarded her apron earlier, revealing white stockings.

"Me too," The third maid added, her hands moving deftly to unzip her dress. As she pulled the fabric away from her upper body, like the milky white rabbits jumping out of their burrow, two perky, puffy curves popped up, tightening due to touching the cold air outside. Those two jiggling soft mounds that emerged from their confines, adorned with delicate, brownish tops, stood trembling yet alluring.

"Ho ho ho, my little darlings, once I assess your sincerity, you shall receive whatever your hearts desire," chuckled a rotund man, puffing on a cigar he had just placed on the table. As he moved, he began to unbutton his bathrobe, revealing a rather hairy and ample belly that could easily conceal three of the maids behind it. Stay immersed with m-vl-em-py-r

His flushed face gleamed as drool threatened to escape his lips, showcasing a lustful and unappealing expression as his eyes hungrily roamed over their bodies. With a predatory grin, he added, "Now, all three of you, lie down on the bed; let's indulge ourselves tonight!"