Reincarnated as the Villainess’s Unlucky Bodyguard

I lay there, sprawled like the world's most tragic snow angel in a sea of cold, slightly damp sand, still blinking up at the night sky as if the stars themselves might have some opinion on what had just occurred. Spoiler: they didn't. Even the moon, usually a smug observer, hid politely behind a tatter of clouds.

You would think that after two years of warfare, mind control, betrayal, and the occasional existential crisis, I'd be immune to a simple ambush. But Enara's method somewhere between a wrestling maneuver and a romantic declaration had managed to short-circuit my brain so thoroughly that the only coherent thought I could muster was:

Well. That happened.

The sand was already finding its way into my tunic, which felt like poetic justice for whatever cosmic sin I'd just committed by nearly kissing my ex-best-friend-who-I-might-actually-love-right-back. I remained motionless, staring at the stars, partly because I couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry, but mostly because moving felt dangerous. Moving meant the world was real. Moving meant the moment was over.

Of course, the system, whose sense of timing was rivaled only by its sense of tact, chose this moment to insert itself into my suffering.

[Well, well, well,] it purred, its voice silkier than usual. [Was that an attempted seduction, a duel, or a lesson in how to collect sand in every orifice?]

Please, I thought back, eyes shut, not now. I'm having a crisis.

[You're always having a crisis. At this point, I'm convinced you collect them for fun. Or perhaps for sport. You did, after all, invent a new wrestling hold. I call it: the Flustered Villainess Takedown.]

I groaned aloud, pressing a palm to my forehead. "You're not helping."

[Correction: I'm helping myself. You, on the other hand, seem determined to sabotage every romantic opportunity fate throws at you. Impressive consistency, if nothing else.]

I pushed myself upright, dusting off the worst of the sand. My wrists still tingled from Enara's grip. My face was hot. My chest felt as if a horde of nervous butterflies had decided to rehearse the opera in my ribcage.

Was I that obvious? I wondered. Did I really just almost kiss her? Did she almost let me?

[Obvious? My dear, the only thing more transparent is your inability to handle basic emotional honesty. If I had a coin for every time you and Enara exchanged longing looks without actual communication, I could buy myself a new user. One who reads context clues.]

I staggered to my feet, legs wobbly, as if the sand were trying to suck me back down to the realm of the socially inept. "This is your fault," I muttered, realizing only after I said it that the system wasn't exactly equipped to feel shame.

[My fault? Oh, certainly. I control the tides, the weather, and your catastrophic talent for saying exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time. Remind me to add 'matchmaker' to my résumé.]

I began to pace the edge of the ring, running my hands through my hair. The torches were guttering low, casting long, shaky shadows over the walls. I tried to focus on the night: the scent of bruised grass, the hush of wind, the faint, metallic tang that always clung to this yard blood, sweat, hope.

She almost kissed me, I admitted, not sure if I was confessing or just trying to convince myself I hadn't imagined it.

[Correction: she didn't kiss you. She fled as if you were about to sprout tentacles. Which, considering your history, is a possibility we cannot rule out.]

I couldn't help it a shaky laugh escaped me, half hysterical, half delighted. She ran. She actually ran.

[As one does, when overwhelmed by the urge to do something stupidly brave, like loving you.]

The truth stung more than I liked to admit. I wanted to run after her, to find her in the castle's winding halls, to demand an explanation demand that she not give up on us before we'd even had a chance to become anything real again. But I stayed rooted in place, unsure if I even deserved to ask for that.

I sat down on the low stone wall that marked the edge of the ring, letting my boots dangle into the dewy grass. The world felt both vast and impossibly small just me, the moon, a handful of memories, and the sound of my own too-loud heart.

The system, of course, couldn't let me enjoy even this moment of peace.

[Well? What have we learned, student of suffering?]

That I am an idiot. That I still love her. That nothing in the world, not shadow magic, not exile, not even being tackled in the sand, can erase that.

[Touching. Now, if only you could say it to her, rather than to me. Or at least work up the courage to not look like a startled goose every time she leans in.]

I rolled my eyes. "Thank you, oh wise voice in my head."

[You're most welcome. Now, I suggest you go inside before someone finds you here and assumes you're brooding, plotting, or composing poetry. You wouldn't want to ruin your reputation as the reformed villainess. Or worse let Kael find you and start monologuing about fate again.]

I flinched at the thought. That was motivation enough.

As I made my way across the silent courtyard, I let myself remember the feeling of Enara's hands, the echo of her heartbeat against mine, the brief, dazzling certainty that we could have been something other than broken.

The castle had not changed much in my absence: the flagstones still cold, the corridors still wide and echoing, the servants still vanishing into thin air whenever I approached. But something inside me felt different, fragile and fierce at once. For the first time in years, I felt hope a tiny, stubborn ember smoldering beneath the guilt.

I paused outside the kitchens, staring at my own reflection in the leaded glass. My hair was a mess, my tunic askew, my cheeks burning. But my eyes my ridiculous, mismatched eyes were bright. Alive.

I let myself smile. Maybe a little victory was enough for tonight.

[Look at you,] the system said, sly. [One little sparring match and you're already glowing with post-traumatic optimism. Don't worry. Reality will adjust that soon enough.]

I rolled my eyes, but my heart felt lighter. Let it try.