NTR: Minor Villain Wants to Be the Main Villain

But finally, they stopped.

Right in front of a small, hidden flower garden.

It wasn't one of those over-the-top noble gardens from the inner sect—no, this was more… personal.

'What is this place?'

He wondered, scanning his surroundings.

'Damn. It's so... neat. Organized.'

The garden was small but well-kept, the flowers carefully arranged in precise, colorful rows. It was almost unsettling how perfect it looked—like someone had taken time to trim every single bush with obsessive devotion.

'Weirdly satisfying. I respect it.'

At the very center, a modest stone fountain stood tall, carved into the shape of the God of Prosperity.

The statue was majestic, grand, noble—

And holding a bowl of coins over his junk like a censor bar. Artis squinted at it.

"…Lily, why does your god look like he's about to flash me?"

Lily snorted, covering her mouth. "What? That's how the God of Prosperity is depicted!"

"Half-naked with his dick barely covered?"

She shrugged, her tail flicking behind her.

"Prosperity comes from generosity. And what's more generous than a man offering his… wealth?"

Artis just stared.

The flowers themselves looked familiar.

"You pluck flowers from here?"

Lily shot him an offended look.

"Not pluck. Buy."

She flicked her hair, then suddenly perked up, waving energetically toward an old lady tending to some flowers across the way.

"Hiii!"

The old woman smiled and waved back, her wrinkled hands still covered in soil.

Artis nodded.

"So you're a regular?"

"Of course. A flower girl's gotta stay in business."

She grinned, rocking back on her heels, which just so happened to make her boobs bounce slightly in her tunic.

Artis definitely noticed.

"You know your flowers, huh?"

"I do, sir."

She playfully emphasized the "sir" in a way that sent a shiver down his spine.

"You know every flower?"

His eyebrow arched in challenge.

She squared her shoulders, lifting her chest ever so slightly, giving him an unintentional eyeful of her swollen curves.

"Try me."

'Oh, sweetheart, you're making this too easy.'

Artis smirked and pointed at a small violet-colored flower nearby. It had a long, loose stem and delicate five-petaled blossoms.

Lily glanced at it for a second, then burst into laughter.

"Easy."

She smirked.

"Violets."

"..."

"..."

"...Err…"

She grinned and tilted her head.

"That's the name of the flower, silly."

Artis blinked.

'Oh. Well, fuck.'

With zero comeback, he just nodded slowly like a dumbass.

"Fine, fine. That one's on me. What about that one?"

Artis gestured toward a small bush covered in bright yellow flowers, their petals soft like silk, clustered together like a golden explosion.

Lily barely even looked before answering with obnoxious confidence.

"Honey blossom. Medicinal. Good for wounds, fevers, and—"

And then she was off, reciting flower facts like a damn encyclopedia in a corset.
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Artis narrowed his eyes.

'Alright, flower girl. Let's see how deep this rabbit hole goes.'

He pointed at another flower.

Lily scoffed and rattled off its name and uses without hesitation.

Then another.

And another.

Then a weird-looking weed that was sticking out of a crack in the stone path, and holy shit, she even knew that one.

By the time they were done, Artis crossed his arms, half-impressed, half-annoyed.

"Alright, fine. You're a damn flower genius."

Lily smirked like she just won a championship match.

"Told you. You doubted me, sir. Bad move."

She flicked his forehead playfully, but the way her chest slightly bounced from the motion was just enough to make Artis momentarily forget how words worked.

'This woman is dangerous.'

Lily brushed off her dress and stretched, her body arching just enough to give Artis a very nice, very sinful view.

"Alright, since you look half-decent and aren't a complete bastard, I'm gonna let you meet someone special...sir"

She grinned mischievously and started walking away.

Artis hesitated for a second before following, his gaze locked on the hypnotic sway of her hips.

'Special? Does she have a husband? A boyfriend?'

The thought itched at the back of his mind, but then he licked his lips as he watched her curves bounce with each step.

'Whoever it is, I'm sorry—but that fine piece of ass? Yeah, I'm tasting it.'

They walked for a while, passing through the bustling market, until she finally stopped in front of a small workshop with a weathered sign hanging above the door.

HAN'S WOOD CUTTER.

Artis stared at the sign, then at Lily, then back at the sign.

'...The fuck is this?'

From inside the shop, the deep, rhythmic sound of axes splitting logs echoed through the air, punctuated by grunts of exertion from muscular men hard at work.

The scent of freshly cut wood and sweat mixed in the warm afternoon air.

"Come on. Let's go."

Lily grinned, throwing him a glance over her shoulder before stepping inside with a sway of her hips.

Artis hesitated, eyebrows furrowing as he stared at the entrance.

'This better not be some secret boyfriend or, worse, a long-lost husband situation.'

With cautious steps, he followed her inside.

The moment he entered, his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, and he was greeted by the sight of men in loose tunics, their muscles flexing as they swung axes into thick logs, sending splinters flying.

It was like walking into a goddamn sweaty lumberjack fantasy.

'Well… if I was into burly men chopping wood, I'd be in heaven.'

Lily moved through the workshop effortlessly, dodging a stray log with the grace of someone who clearly belonged here.

She approached a young, broad-shouldered man who was mid-swing, his muscles flexing as he brought the axe down with a powerful crack, splitting the log cleanly in half.

Before he could grab another, Lily tapped him on the shoulder.

The young man paused mid-motion, turning to see who had interrupted him.

The moment his eyes landed on her, his expression softened—like a man seeing his beloved after a long, exhausting day.

'Oh, hell no.'

Artis narrowed his eyes, his gut immediately not liking this shit.

Lily leaned in close to the woodcutter, standing on her tiptoes as she whispered something into his ear, her soft lips dangerously close to his skin.

The man's eyes widened at whatever she said.

A tense second passed.

Then, slowly, he turned his head toward Artis.

His gaze flickered up and down, taking in Artis's stupidly handsome face, his too-perfect physique, and the way he looked so ridiculously out of place in a room full of sweaty laborers.

Artis crossed his arms and tilted his head, waiting.

'Alright, buddy, let's hear it. Who the fuck are you to her?'