NTR: Minor Villain Wants to Be the Main Villain-Chapter 90: How to Summon Someone!

Artis strode into his house, the silence only broken by the clatter of utensils as Juliana scrubbed dishes in the kitchen.

Her annoyed muttering about "lazy men" and "ungrateful husband" drifted through the air, but he paid it no mind. He had other plans.

He made his way to Nadia’s room, the faint scent of jasmine lingering in the hallway.

As he reached her door, it slid open, and out stepped Nadia—wrapped in nothing but a towel that clung to her like it was on a mission to reveal everything.

Her freshly showered skin glistened, and her damp hair framed her flushed face.

"I-I’m going shopping... w-with my friends…"

She stammered, her words tumbling over themselves as her eyes darted everywhere but at him.

Artis’s gaze didn’t waver, his smirk growing as he took in her deliciously flustered state. The towel barely covered her bouncing assets, which seemed to have a mind of their own.

Slam!

Nadia bolted for the shoji door, slamming it shut behind her like her life depended on it. Her embarrassed squeak echoed in the hallway.

Artis chuckled to himself, his smirk morphing into a wolfish grin.

’Cute as fuck.’

He could’ve had her right there—hell, the towel was practically an invitation—but he decided to savor the anticipation.

’Soon, baby girl. Soon.’

He made his way to his room, locking the door and shutting the windows. After a long stretch and a smug chuckle, he flopped onto the bed, sinking into a power nap that lasted until the sun dipped below the horizon.

When he finally stirred, blinking against the dim light, something caught his attention.

The window he distinctly remembered closing was now slightly ajar. His eyes narrowed as a flicker of movement caught his eye—a small black cat ear peeking just over the windowsill.

Artis sat up slowly, his lips curling into a smirk.

’Oh, so it was her cat? Figures.’

He scratched his head, leaning out to get a better look. The tiny black furball sat there, its tail flicking with a level of sass that suggested it owned the place—and possibly him.

’What was its name again?’

He muttered, squinting like the answer might be written on its smug little face.

’Man, I forgot. Guess when you’re not part of the tits-and-ass club, you don’t leave much of an impression.’

The cat, unbothered, licked its paw like it hadn’t been spying on him through the damn window all day.

Artis leaned back with a groan.

’Of course it’s not just a normal cat. Nothing in this fucking place is. Probably has some wild powers, too. Maybe it can teleport, shoot laser beams, or, I don’t know, recite poetry about boobs and betrayal.’

He rubbed his temples, trying to recall what he knew about it from the novel.

Up to the chapters he’d read, the damn furball hadn’t done much except prance around like it owned the Matriarch’s mansion.

But he knew it had some big role coming up—and knowing his luck, it probably involved making his life a living hell.

His eyes narrowed as he thought about all the "activities" it might’ve witnessed.

’Shit, it probably saw everything. The scripture, my... playdates with Juliana and Nadia...’

He sighed, scratching his chin.

’How do you deal with a cat that’s got more dirt on you than your enemies? Do I bribe it? Threaten it? Convince it to join the team?’

Then, like a lightbulb flickering on in a dim room, an idea hit him. His smirk returned, sharp and devilish.

’Yep, that’s the plan.’

Artis thought, his grin widening like a wolf eyeing a sheep in stilettos.

’Catch her off guard, but not now. Now... time for the real dual-cultivation session. Heh heh heh.’

Rubbing his hands together like a villain in a bad soap opera, his eyes locked onto the bottle of ridiculously expensive alcohol sitting on his table.

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’The kind of drink you use to woo a goddess or maybe bribe a demon lord—either way, it was going to get the job done.’

"Alright, showtime."

He muttered, springing from the bed with the enthusiasm of a horny teenager. He practically kicked down the bathroom door, stripping on the way like he was auditioning for a budget porno.

Under the shower, he scrubbed himself until he was squeaky clean, his mind swirling with mischievous plans.

When he finally emerged, he wore a white silk robe so thin and clingy it was practically a public service announcement for his bulge. The fabric hugged his body in ways that were borderline indecent.

"Perfect," he whispered, admiring himself in the mirror. "Let’s play."

Grabbing the bottle from the table, he stepped out of his room, his grin sharp enough to cut glass.

Juliana, lounging on the couch like a lazy cat, looked up at the sound of the sliding door. Her casual demeanor immediately shifted to surprise.

"Oh, you’re out already? I thought you’d be holed up in there until, like, midnight. Are you hungry? I can get you something to eat—Mommy can whip up dinner right now, okay?"

Her voice had that nervous edge, a mix of surprise and something else. She sat up straighter, her loose robe slipping just enough to give Artis a good look at her ample "assets."

She finally craned her neck over the back of the couch, and when her eyes landed on him, she froze mid-breath, her lips parting slightly.

There he was, leaning casually against the doorframe, looking like sin personified. His robe clung to him in all the right ways—or wrong, depending on your moral compass.

The silk hugged his chest, the outlines of his muscles practically begging for attention, but the real kicker? The shadowy silhouette of his package.

Her throat dried up faster than a cheap wine at a bachelorette party. She gulped, her cheeks glowing brighter than a bonfire.

’What... what the hell is he planning now?’

Her thoughts swirled as her body betrayed her, heat pooling in places she didn’t want to admit.

"Yes, Mommy, I’m hungry," he said, his voice low and smooth like honey dripping over a blade. Then, after the perfect dramatic pause, he added, "But not for food."

He licked his lips, his sinful eyes locking onto her with enough intensity to melt steel.

Her heart skipped, then started pounding like a drumline at a college football game. She glanced at his hand, where the bottle of expensive booze gleamed under the soft light.

’Is that... oh god, is that for lighting the mood? Is it finally happening?!’

Juliana’s mind raced. For two weeks, two long, agonizing weeks, he’d teased her relentlessly.

Whispering filthy things, making her cum more times than she cared to count, but never crossing the final line.

She’d resigned herself to more of the same torment, but now... now this?

Her body tingled with anticipation, her legs pressing together as if trying to keep the heat from leaking out.

’Is he serious?’

Artis, still standing there like he owned the world—and her—tilted his head, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face.

"G-glasses? You need glasses for that?"

Juliana stammered, her voice shaky as she gestured towards the bottle in his hand.

"Oh, this?"

Artis gave the bottle a little shake, the liquid inside sloshing temptingly.

"Yes, three glasses, Mommy. Three."

"Th-three? But there’s only two of us here?"

Her brow furrowed, confusion etched all over her face. She knew Nadia was out, and surely he didn’t mean...

"Oh? You’re not thinking about Dad?"

Artis smirked, his sinful grin spreading like wildfire.

Her eyes widened.

"You can’t be serious—"

"Bingo!"

He cut her off with a sing-song tone, then pointed toward the kitchen with the casual authority of someone who knew he was in control.

"Now off you go, baby. Fetch three glasses and meet me in my room. I’ll be waiting."

Juliana stood frozen as he sauntered away, his robe swaying just enough to hint at the sculpted perfection beneath.

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Her gaze followed him until the door slid shut behind him, leaving her alone with her racing thoughts—and an even faster-beating heart.

’Oh, god! What is he planning?’

Her pulse drummed in her ears as she shuffled toward the kitchen. Each step felt heavier than the last, her mind swirling with scenarios that were both mortifying and... strangely exciting.

’Three glasses... for him, for me... and for Lui?!’

She grabbed the glasses with trembling hands, her body betraying her better judgment.

’Is he really going to—’

She shook her head, her cheeks flaming.

’No, no, don’t think about it!’

But deep down, a traitorous little voice whispered:

’You’re curious, aren’t you?’

...

Minutes later, Juliana nervously knocked on his door.

"Come in."

Artis’s deep, lazy voice called out.

She stepped inside, clutching the glasses, and her eyes were immediately drawn to him. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor at a low table, the bottle of booze front and center.

His robe had casually parted at the chest, revealing a teasing glimpse of smooth, ripped abs that looked like they were carved by a thirsty god.

Her gaze darted to the bottle, then back to his smirking face.

"Come on, Mommy, take a seat."

He gestured to the spot beside him with a flick of his fingers.

Juliana nodded, her heart thumping louder than a war drum, and sat to his left, her knees tucked neatly under her. She set the glasses down on the table, careful not to make any sudden movements.

"Should I call Lui?"

She asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Artis chuckled, leaning over to pat her head like she was a good little puppy. The casual brush of his fingers against her hair sent a shiver down her spine.

"No need. I’ll show you a magic trick instead. A trick to summon someone. Watch and learn, baby."

With an infuriatingly cocky grin, he grabbed the bottle. With a flick of his thumb, the cork flew off with a satisfying pop, the sound echoing like a challenge in the quiet room.